prompt:
Chapter: From this time Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot were repeatedly in the
same circle.  They were soon dining in company together at Mr
Musgrove's, for the little boy's state could no longer supply his aunt
with a pretence for absenting herself; and this was but the beginning
of other dinings and other meetings.

Whether former feelings were to be renewed must be brought to the
proof; former times must undoubtedly be brought to the recollection of
each; they could not but be reverted to; the year of their engagement
could not but be named by him, in the little narratives or descriptions
which conversation called forth.  His profession qualified him, his
disposition lead him, to talk; and "That was in the year six;" "That
happened before I went to sea in the year six," occurred in the course
of the first evening they spent together: and though his voice did not
falter, and though she had no reason to suppose his eye wandering
towards her while he spoke, Anne felt the utter impossibility, from her
knowledge of his mind, that he could be unvisited by remembrance any
more than herself.  There must be the same immediate association of
thought, though she was very far from conceiving it to be of equal pain.

They had no conversation together, no intercourse but what the
commonest civility required.  Once so much to each other!  Now nothing!
There had been a time, when of all the large party now filling the
drawing-room at Uppercross, they would have found it most difficult to
cease to speak to one another.  With the exception, perhaps, of Admiral
and Mrs Croft, who seemed particularly attached and happy, (Anne could
allow no other exceptions even among the married couples), there could
have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so
in unison, no countenances so beloved.  Now they were as strangers;
nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted.  It
was a perpetual estrangement.

When he talked, she heard the same voice, and discerned the same mind.
There was a very general ignorance of all naval matters throughout the
party; and he was very much questioned, and especially by the two Miss
Musgroves, who seemed hardly to have any eyes but for him, as to the
manner of living on board, daily regulations, food, hours, &c., and
their surprise at his accounts, at learning the degree of accommodation
and arrangement which was practicable, drew from him some pleasant
ridicule, which reminded Anne of the early days when she too had been
ignorant, and she too had been accused of supposing sailors to be
living on board without anything to eat, or any cook to dress it if
there were, or any servant to wait, or any knife and fork to use.

From thus listening and thinking, she was roused by a whisper of Mrs
Musgrove's who, overcome by fond regrets, could not help saying--

"Ah! Miss Anne, if it had pleased Heaven to spare my poor son, I dare
say he would have been just such another by this time."

Anne suppressed a smile, and listened kindly, while Mrs Musgrove
relieved her heart a little more; and for a few minutes, therefore,
could not keep pace with the conversation of the others.

When she could let her attention take its natural course again, she
found the Miss Musgroves just fetching the Navy List (their own navy
list, the first that had ever been at Uppercross), and sitting down
together to pore over it, with the professed view of finding out the
ships that Captain Wentworth had commanded.

"Your first was the Asp, I remember; we will look for the Asp."

"You will not find her there.  Quite worn out and broken up.  I was the
last man who commanded her.  Hardly fit for service then.  Reported fit
for home service for a year or two, and so I was sent off to the West
Indies."

The girls looked all amazement.

"The Admiralty," he continued, "entertain themselves now and then, with
sending a few hundred men to sea, in a ship not fit to be employed.
But they have a great many to provide for; and among the thousands that
may just as well go to the bottom as not, it is impossible for them to
distinguish the very set who may be least missed."

"Phoo! phoo!" cried the Admiral, "what stuff these young fellows talk!
Never was a better sloop than the Asp in her day.  For an old built
sloop, you would not see her equal.  Lucky fellow to get her!  He knows
there must have been twenty better men than himself applying for her at
the same time.  Lucky fellow to get anything so soon, with no more
interest than his."

"I felt my luck, Admiral, I assure you;" replied Captain Wentworth,
seriously.  "I was as well satisfied with my appointment as you can
desire.  It was a great object with me at that time to be at sea; a
very great object, I wanted to be doing something."

"To be sure you did.  What should a young fellow like you do ashore for
half a year together?  If a man had not a wife, he soon wants to be
afloat again."

"But, Captain Wentworth," cried Louisa, "how vexed you must have been
when you came to the Asp, to see what an old thing they had given you."

"I knew pretty well what she was before that day;" said he, smiling.
"I had no more discoveries to make than you would have as to the
fashion and strength of any old pelisse, which you had seen lent about
among half your acquaintance ever since you could remember, and which
at last, on some very wet day, is lent to yourself.  Ah! she was a dear
old Asp to me.  She did all that I wanted.  I knew she would.  I knew
that we should either go to the bottom together, or that she would be
the making of me; and I never had two days of foul weather all the time
I was at sea in her; and after taking privateers enough to be very
entertaining, I had the good luck in my passage home the next autumn,
to fall in with the very French frigate I wanted.  I brought her into
Plymouth; and here another instance of luck.  We had not been six hours
in the Sound, when a gale came on, which lasted four days and nights,
and which would have done for poor old Asp in half the time; our touch
with the Great Nation not having much improved our condition.
Four-and-twenty hours later, and I should only have been a gallant
Captain Wentworth, in a small paragraph at one corner of the
newspapers; and being lost in only a sloop, nobody would have thought
about me." Anne's shudderings were to herself alone; but the Miss
Musgroves could be as open as they were sincere, in their exclamations
of pity and horror.

"And so then, I suppose," said Mrs Musgrove, in a low voice, as if
thinking aloud, "so then he went away to the Laconia, and there he met
with our poor boy. Charles, my dear," (beckoning him to her), "do ask
Captain Wentworth where it was he first met with your poor brother.  I
always forgot."

"It was at Gibraltar, mother, I know.  Dick had been left ill at
Gibraltar, with a recommendation from his former captain to Captain
Wentworth."

"Oh! but, Charles, tell Captain Wentworth, he need not be afraid of
mentioning poor Dick before me, for it would be rather a pleasure to
hear him talked of by such a good friend."

Charles, being somewhat more mindful of the probabilities of the case,
only nodded in reply, and walked away.

The girls were now hunting for the Laconia; and Captain Wentworth could
not deny himself the pleasure of taking the precious volume into his
own hands to save them the trouble, and once more read aloud the little
statement of her name and rate, and present non-commissioned class,
observing over it that she too had been one of the best friends man
ever had.

"Ah! those were pleasant days when I had the Laconia!  How fast I made
money in her.  A friend of mine and I had such a lovely cruise together
off the Western Islands.  Poor Harville, sister!  You know how much he
wanted money:  worse than myself.  He had a wife.  Excellent fellow.  I
shall never forget his happiness.  He felt it all, so much for her
sake.  I wished for him again the next summer, when I had still the
same luck in the Mediterranean."

"And I am sure, Sir," said Mrs Musgrove, "it was a lucky day for us,
when you were put captain into that ship.  We shall never forget what
you did."

Her feelings made her speak low; and Captain Wentworth, hearing only in
part, and probably not having Dick Musgrove at all near his thoughts,
looked rather in suspense, and as if waiting for more.

"My brother," whispered one of the girls; "mamma is thinking of poor
Richard."

"Poor dear fellow!" continued Mrs Musgrove; "he was grown so steady,
and such an excellent correspondent, while he was under your care!  Ah!
it would have been a happy thing, if he had never left you.  I assure
you, Captain Wentworth, we are very sorry he ever left you."

There was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth's face at this
speech, a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome
mouth, which convinced Anne, that instead of sharing in Mrs Musgrove's
kind wishes, as to her son, he had probably been at some pains to get
rid of him; but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to
be detected by any who understood him less than herself; in another
moment he was perfectly collected and serious, and almost instantly
afterwards coming up to the sofa, on which she and Mrs Musgrove were
sitting, took a place by the latter, and entered into conversation with
her, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with so much sympathy and
natural grace, as shewed the kindest consideration for all that was
real and unabsurd in the parent's feelings.

They were actually on the same sofa, for Mrs Musgrove had most readily
made room for him; they were divided only by Mrs Musgrove.  It was no
insignificant barrier, indeed.  Mrs Musgrove was of a comfortable,
substantial size, infinitely more fitted by nature to express good
cheer and good humour, than tenderness and sentiment; and while the
agitations of Anne's slender form, and pensive face, may be considered
as very completely screened, Captain Wentworth should be allowed some
credit for the self-command with which he attended to her large fat
sighings over the destiny of a son, whom alive nobody had cared for.

Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary
proportions.  A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep
affliction, as the most graceful set of limbs in the world.  But, fair
or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will
patronize in vain--which taste cannot tolerate--which ridicule will
seize.

The Admiral, after taking two or three refreshing turns about the room
with his hands behind him, being called to order by his wife, now came
up to Captain Wentworth, and without any observation of what he might
be interrupting, thinking only of his own thoughts, began with--

"If you had been a week later at Lisbon, last spring, Frederick, you
would have been asked to give a passage to Lady Mary Grierson and her
daughters."

"Should I?  I am glad I was not a week later then."

The Admiral abused him for his want of gallantry.  He defended himself;
though professing that he would never willingly admit any ladies on
board a ship of his, excepting for a ball, or a visit, which a few
hours might comprehend.

"But, if I know myself," said he, "this is from no want of gallantry
towards them.  It is rather from feeling how impossible it is, with all
one's efforts, and all one's sacrifices, to make the accommodations on
board such as women ought to have.  There can be no want of gallantry,
Admiral, in rating the claims of women to every personal comfort high,
and this is what I do.  I hate to hear of women on board, or to see
them on board; and no ship under my command shall ever convey a family
of ladies anywhere, if I can help it."

This brought his sister upon him.

"Oh! Frederick!  But I cannot believe it of you.--All idle
refinement!--Women may be as comfortable on board, as in the best house
in England.  I believe I have lived as much on board as most women, and
I know nothing superior to the accommodations of a man-of-war.  I
declare I have not a comfort or an indulgence about me, even at
Kellynch Hall," (with a kind bow to Anne), "beyond what I always had in
most of the ships I have lived in; and they have been five altogether."

"Nothing to the purpose," replied her brother.  "You were living with
your husband, and were the only woman on board."

"But you, yourself, brought Mrs Harville, her sister, her cousin, and
three children, round from Portsmouth to Plymouth.  Where was this
superfine, extraordinary sort of gallantry of yours then?"

"All merged in my friendship, Sophia.  I would assist any brother
officer's wife that I could, and I would bring anything of Harville's
from the world's end, if he wanted it.  But do not imagine that I did
not feel it an evil in itself."

"Depend upon it, they were all perfectly comfortable."

"I might not like them the better for that perhaps.  Such a number of
women and children have no right to be comfortable on board."

"My dear Frederick, you are talking quite idly.  Pray, what would
become of us poor sailors' wives, who often want to be conveyed to one
port or another, after our husbands, if everybody had your feelings?"

"My feelings, you see, did not prevent my taking Mrs Harville and all
her family to Plymouth."

"But I hate to hear you talking so like a fine gentleman, and as if
women were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures.  We none of
us expect to be in smooth water all our days."

"Ah! my dear," said the Admiral, "when he had got a wife, he will sing
a different tune.  When he is married, if we have the good luck to live
to another war, we shall see him do as you and I, and a great many
others, have done.  We shall have him very thankful to anybody that
will bring him his wife."

"Ay, that we shall."

"Now I have done," cried Captain Wentworth.  "When once married people
begin to attack me with,--'Oh! you will think very differently, when
you are married.'  I can only say, 'No, I shall not;' and then they say
again, 'Yes, you will,' and there is an end of it."

He got up and moved away.

"What a great traveller you must have been, ma'am!" said Mrs Musgrove
to Mrs Croft.

"Pretty well, ma'am in the fifteen years of my marriage; though many
women have done more.  I have crossed the Atlantic four times, and have
been once to the East Indies, and back again, and only once; besides
being in different places about home: Cork, and Lisbon, and Gibraltar.
But I never went beyond the Streights, and never was in the West
Indies.  We do not call Bermuda or Bahama, you know, the West Indies."

Mrs Musgrove had not a word to say in dissent; she could not accuse
herself of having ever called them anything in the whole course of her
life.

"And I do assure you, ma'am," pursued Mrs Croft, "that nothing can
exceed the accommodations of a man-of-war; I speak, you know, of the
higher rates.  When you come to a frigate, of course, you are more
confined; though any reasonable woman may be perfectly happy in one of
them; and I can safely say, that the happiest part of my life has been
spent on board a ship.  While we were together, you know, there was
nothing to be feared.  Thank God!  I have always been blessed with
excellent health, and no climate disagrees with me.  A little
disordered always the first twenty-four hours of going to sea, but
never knew what sickness was afterwards.  The only time I ever really
suffered in body or mind, the only time that I ever fancied myself
unwell, or had any ideas of danger, was the winter that I passed by
myself at Deal, when the Admiral (Captain Croft then) was in the North
Seas.  I lived in perpetual fright at that time, and had all manner of
imaginary complaints from not knowing what to do with myself, or when I
should hear from him next; but as long as we could be together, nothing
ever ailed me, and I never met with the smallest inconvenience."

"Aye, to be sure.  Yes, indeed, oh yes!  I am quite of your opinion,
Mrs Croft," was Mrs Musgrove's hearty answer.  "There is nothing so bad
as a separation.  I am quite of your opinion.  I know what it is, for
Mr Musgrove always attends the assizes, and I am so glad when they are
over, and he is safe back again."

The evening ended with dancing.  On its being proposed, Anne offered
her services, as usual; and though her eyes would sometimes fill with
tears as she sat at the instrument, she was extremely glad to be
employed, and desired nothing in return but to be unobserved.

It was a merry, joyous party, and no one seemed in higher spirits than
Captain Wentworth.  She felt that he had every thing to elevate him
which general attention and deference, and especially the attention of
all the young women, could do.  The Miss Hayters, the females of the
family of cousins already mentioned, were apparently admitted to the
honour of being in love with him; and as for Henrietta and Louisa, they
both seemed so entirely occupied by him, that nothing but the continued
appearance of the most perfect good-will between themselves could have
made it credible that they were not decided rivals.  If he were a
little spoilt by such universal, such eager admiration, who could
wonder?

These were some of the thoughts which occupied Anne, while her fingers
were mechanically at work, proceeding for half an hour together,
equally without error, and without consciousness.  Once she felt that
he was looking at herself,  observing her altered features, perhaps,
trying to trace in them the ruins of the face which had once charmed
him; and once she knew that he must have spoken of her; she was hardly
aware of it, till she heard the answer; but then she was sure of his
having asked his partner whether Miss Elliot never danced?  The answer
was, "Oh, no; never; she has quite given up dancing.  She had rather
play.  She is never tired of playing."  Once, too, he spoke to her.
She had left the instrument on the dancing being over, and he had sat
down to try to make out an air which he wished to give the Miss
Musgroves an idea of.  Unintentionally she returned to that part of the
room; he saw her, and, instantly rising, said, with studied politeness--

"I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat;" and though she
immediately drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced
to sit down again.

Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches.  His cold
politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.

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

completion: Chapter VIII, pages 63-72 Wentworth and the Crofts visit Uppercross frequently, and Anne learns to steel herself in his company. She conceals her horror when he describes for everyone his escapades in the navy. When Mrs. Musgrove reminds him that her own son, Richard, was under his command, Wentworth sits down beside her and talks kindly of Richard. Anne, who is on the same sofa, just on the other side of Mrs. Musgrove, detects that Wentworth is concealing his true feelings about the wayward and troublesome Richard Musgrove. Anne is also forced to listen as the Admiral teases Wentworth for declaring that women--specifically a wife--should not be aboard a ship, although Wentworth has ferried the wives of fellow officers. Mrs. Croft speaks up about the many times she has resided on her husband's ship and declares that nothing can be more comfortable. Anne unselfishly plays the piano while the others dance, grateful that she can hide her tears. Once, when she takes a break and returns to the piano to find Wentworth in her seat, she is embarrassed by how quickly he gets up. Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches. His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than any thing.


prompt:
Chapter: Captain Wentworth was come to Kellynch as to a home, to stay as long as
he liked, being as thoroughly the object of the Admiral's fraternal
kindness as of his wife's.  He had intended, on first arriving, to
proceed very soon into Shropshire, and visit the brother settled in
that country, but the attractions of Uppercross induced him to put this
off.  There was so much of friendliness, and of flattery, and of
everything most bewitching in his reception there; the old were so
hospitable, the young so agreeable, that he could not but resolve to
remain where he was, and take all the charms and perfections of
Edward's wife upon credit a little longer.

It was soon Uppercross with him almost every day.  The Musgroves could
hardly be more ready to invite than he to come, particularly in the
morning, when he had no companion at home, for the Admiral and Mrs
Croft were generally out of doors together, interesting themselves in
their new possessions, their grass, and their sheep, and dawdling about
in a way not endurable to a third person, or driving out in a gig,
lately added to their establishment.

Hitherto there had been but one opinion of Captain Wentworth among the
Musgroves and their dependencies.  It was unvarying, warm admiration
everywhere; but this intimate footing was not more than established,
when a certain Charles Hayter returned among them, to be a good deal
disturbed by it, and to think Captain Wentworth very much in the way.

Charles Hayter was the eldest of all the cousins, and a very amiable,
pleasing young man, between whom and Henrietta there had been a
considerable appearance of attachment previous to Captain Wentworth's
introduction.  He was in orders; and having a curacy in the
neighbourhood, where residence was not required, lived at his father's
house, only two miles from Uppercross.  A short absence from home had
left his fair one unguarded by his attentions at this critical period,
and when he came back he had the pain of finding very altered manners,
and of seeing Captain Wentworth.

Mrs Musgrove and Mrs Hayter were sisters.  They had each had money, but
their marriages had made a material difference in their degree of
consequence.  Mr Hayter had some property of his own, but it was
insignificant compared with Mr Musgrove's; and while the Musgroves were
in the first class of society in the country, the young Hayters would,
from their parents' inferior, retired, and unpolished way of living,
and their own defective education, have been hardly in any class at
all, but for their connexion with Uppercross, this eldest son of course
excepted, who had chosen to be a scholar and a gentleman, and who was
very superior in cultivation and manners to all the rest.

The two families had always been on excellent terms, there being no
pride on one side, and no envy on the other, and only such a
consciousness of superiority in the Miss Musgroves, as made them
pleased to improve their cousins.  Charles's attentions to Henrietta
had been observed by her father and mother without any disapprobation.
"It would not be a great match for her; but if Henrietta liked him,"--
and Henrietta did seem to like him.

Henrietta fully thought so herself, before Captain Wentworth came; but
from that time Cousin Charles had been very much forgotten.

Which of the two sisters was preferred by Captain Wentworth was as yet
quite doubtful, as far as Anne's observation reached.  Henrietta was
perhaps the prettiest, Louisa had the higher spirits; and she knew not
now, whether the more gentle or the more lively character were most
likely to attract him.

Mr and Mrs Musgrove, either from seeing little, or from an entire
confidence in the discretion of both their daughters, and of all the
young men who came near them, seemed to leave everything to take its
chance.  There was not the smallest appearance of solicitude or remark
about them in the Mansion-house; but it was different at the Cottage:
the young couple there were more disposed to speculate and wonder; and
Captain Wentworth had not been above four or five times in the Miss
Musgroves' company, and Charles Hayter had but just reappeared, when
Anne had to listen to the opinions of her brother and sister, as to
which was the one liked best.  Charles gave it for Louisa, Mary for
Henrietta, but quite agreeing that to have him marry either could be
extremely delightful.

Charles "had never seen a pleasanter man in his life; and from what he
had once heard Captain Wentworth himself say, was very sure that he had
not made less than twenty thousand pounds by the war.  Here was a
fortune at once; besides which, there would be the chance of what might
be done in any future war; and he was sure Captain Wentworth was as
likely a man to distinguish himself as any officer in the navy.  Oh! it
would be a capital match for either of his sisters."

"Upon my word it would," replied Mary.  "Dear me!  If he should rise to
any very great honours!  If he should ever be made a baronet!  'Lady
Wentworth' sounds very well.  That would be a noble thing, indeed, for
Henrietta!  She would take place of me then, and Henrietta would not
dislike that.  Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth!  It would be but a new
creation, however, and I never think much of your new creations."

It suited Mary best to think Henrietta the one preferred on the very
account of Charles Hayter, whose pretensions she wished to see put an
end to.  She looked down very decidedly upon the Hayters, and thought
it would be quite a misfortune to have the existing connection between
the families renewed--very sad for herself and her children.

"You know," said she, "I cannot think him at all a fit match for
Henrietta; and considering the alliances which the Musgroves have made,
she has no right to throw herself away.  I do not think any young woman
has a right to make a choice that may be disagreeable and inconvenient
to the principal part of her family, and be giving bad connections to
those who have not been used to them.  And, pray, who is Charles
Hayter?  Nothing but a country curate.  A most improper match for Miss
Musgrove of Uppercross."

Her husband, however, would not agree with her here; for besides having
a regard for his cousin, Charles Hayter was an eldest son, and he saw
things as an eldest son himself.

"Now you are talking nonsense, Mary," was therefore his answer.  "It
would not be a great match for Henrietta, but Charles has a very fair
chance, through the Spicers, of getting something from the Bishop in
the course of a year or two; and you will please to remember, that he
is the eldest son; whenever my uncle dies, he steps into very pretty
property.  The estate at Winthrop is not less than two hundred and
fifty acres, besides the farm near Taunton, which is some of the best
land in the country.  I grant you, that any of them but Charles would
be a very shocking match for Henrietta, and indeed it could not be; he
is the only one that could be possible; but he is a very good-natured,
good sort of a fellow; and whenever Winthrop comes into his hands, he
will make a different sort of place of it, and live in a very different
sort of way; and with that property, he will never be a contemptible
man--good, freehold property.  No, no; Henrietta might do worse than
marry Charles Hayter; and if she has him, and Louisa can get Captain
Wentworth, I shall be very well satisfied."

"Charles may say what he pleases," cried Mary to Anne, as soon as he
was out of the room, "but it would be shocking to have Henrietta marry
Charles Hayter; a very bad thing for her, and still worse for me; and
therefore it is very much to be wished that Captain Wentworth may soon
put him quite out of her head, and I have very little doubt that he
has.  She took hardly any notice of Charles Hayter yesterday.  I wish
you had been there to see her behaviour.  And as to Captain Wentworth's
liking Louisa as well as Henrietta, it is nonsense to say so; for he
certainly does like Henrietta a great deal the best.  But Charles is so
positive!  I wish you had been with us yesterday, for then you might
have decided between us; and I am sure you would have thought as I did,
unless you had been determined to give it against me."

A dinner at Mr Musgrove's had been the occasion when all these things
should have been seen by Anne; but she had staid at home, under the
mixed plea of a headache of her own, and some return of indisposition
in little Charles.  She had thought only of avoiding Captain Wentworth;
but an escape from being appealed to as umpire was now added to the
advantages of a quiet evening.

As to Captain Wentworth's views, she deemed it of more consequence that
he should know his own mind early enough not to be endangering the
happiness of either sister, or impeaching his own honour, than that he
should prefer Henrietta to Louisa, or Louisa to Henrietta.  Either of
them would, in all probability, make him an affectionate, good-humoured
wife.  With regard to Charles Hayter, she had delicacy which must be
pained by any lightness of conduct in a well-meaning young woman, and a
heart to sympathize in any of the sufferings it occasioned; but if
Henrietta found herself mistaken in the nature of her feelings, the
alteration could not be understood too soon.

Charles Hayter had met with much to disquiet and mortify him in his
cousin's behaviour.  She had too old a regard for him to be so wholly
estranged as might in two meetings extinguish every past hope, and
leave him nothing to do but to keep away from Uppercross:  but there
was such a change as became very alarming, when such a man as Captain
Wentworth was to be regarded as the probable cause.  He had been absent
only two Sundays, and when they parted, had left her interested, even
to the height of his wishes, in his prospect of soon quitting his
present curacy, and obtaining that of Uppercross instead.  It had then
seemed the object nearest her heart, that Dr Shirley, the rector, who
for more than forty years had been zealously discharging all the duties
of his office, but was now growing too infirm for many of them, should
be quite fixed on engaging a curate; should make his curacy quite as
good as he could afford, and should give Charles Hayter the promise of
it.  The advantage of his having to come only to Uppercross, instead of
going six miles another way; of his having, in every respect, a better
curacy; of his belonging to their dear Dr Shirley, and of dear, good Dr
Shirley's being relieved from the duty which he could no longer get
through without most injurious fatigue, had been a great deal, even to
Louisa, but had been almost everything to Henrietta.  When he came
back, alas!  the zeal of the business was gone by.  Louisa could not
listen at all to his account of a conversation which he had just held
with Dr Shirley: she was at a window, looking out for Captain
Wentworth; and even Henrietta had at best only a divided attention to
give, and seemed to have forgotten all the former doubt and solicitude
of the negotiation.

"Well, I am very glad indeed:  but I always thought you would have it;
I always thought you sure.  It did not appear to me that--in short, you
know, Dr Shirley must have a curate, and you had secured his promise.
Is he coming, Louisa?"

One morning, very soon after the dinner at the Musgroves, at which Anne
had not been present, Captain Wentworth walked into the drawing-room at
the Cottage, where were only herself and the little invalid Charles,
who was lying on the sofa.

The surprise of finding himself almost alone with Anne Elliot, deprived
his manners of their usual composure:  he started, and could only say,
"I thought the Miss Musgroves had been here: Mrs Musgrove told me I
should find them here," before he walked to the window to recollect
himself, and feel how he ought to behave.

"They are up stairs with my sister:  they will be down in a few
moments, I dare say," had been Anne's reply, in all the confusion that
was natural; and if the child had not called her to come and do
something for him, she would have been out of the room the next moment,
and released Captain Wentworth as well as herself.

He continued at the window; and after calmly and politely saying, "I
hope the little boy is better," was silent.

She was obliged to kneel down by the sofa, and remain there to satisfy
her patient; and thus they continued a few minutes, when, to her very
great satisfaction, she heard some other person crossing the little
vestibule.  She hoped, on turning her head, to see the master of the
house; but it proved to be one much less calculated for making matters
easy--Charles Hayter, probably not at all better pleased by the sight
of Captain Wentworth than Captain Wentworth had been by the sight of
Anne.

She only attempted to say, "How do you do?  Will you not sit down?  The
others will be here presently."

Captain Wentworth, however, came from his window, apparently not
ill-disposed for conversation; but Charles Hayter soon put an end to
his attempts by seating himself near the table, and taking up the
newspaper; and Captain Wentworth returned to his window.

Another minute brought another addition.  The younger boy, a remarkable
stout, forward child, of two years old, having got the door opened for
him by some one without, made his determined appearance among them, and
went straight to the sofa to see what was going on, and put in his
claim to anything good that might be giving away.

There being nothing to eat, he could only have some play; and as his
aunt would not let him tease his sick brother, he began to fasten
himself upon her, as she knelt, in such a way that, busy as she was
about Charles, she could not shake him off.  She spoke to him, ordered,
entreated, and insisted in vain.  Once she did contrive to push him
away, but the boy had the greater pleasure in getting upon her back
again directly.

"Walter," said she, "get down this moment.  You are extremely
troublesome.  I am very angry with you."

"Walter," cried Charles Hayter, "why do you not do as you are bid?  Do
not you hear your aunt speak?  Come to me, Walter, come to cousin
Charles."

But not a bit did Walter stir.

In another moment, however, she found herself in the state of being
released from him; some one was taking him from her, though he had bent
down her head so much, that his little sturdy hands were unfastened
from around her neck, and he was resolutely borne away, before she knew
that Captain Wentworth had done it.

Her sensations on the discovery made her perfectly speechless.  She
could not even thank him.  She could only hang over little Charles,
with most disordered feelings.  His kindness in stepping forward to her
relief, the manner, the silence in which it had passed, the little
particulars of the circumstance, with the conviction soon forced on her
by the noise he was studiously making with the child, that he meant to
avoid hearing her thanks, and rather sought to testify that her
conversation was the last of his wants, produced such a confusion of
varying, but very painful agitation, as she could not recover from,
till enabled by the entrance of Mary and the Miss Musgroves to make
over her little patient to their cares, and leave the room.  She could
not stay.  It might have been an opportunity of watching the loves and
jealousies of the four--they were now altogether; but she could stay
for none of it.  It was evident that Charles Hayter was not well
inclined towards Captain Wentworth.  She had a strong impression of his
having said, in a vext tone of voice, after Captain Wentworth's
interference, "You ought to have minded me, Walter; I told you not to
teaze your aunt;" and could comprehend his regretting that Captain
Wentworth should do what he ought to have done himself.  But neither
Charles Hayter's feelings, nor anybody's feelings, could interest her,
till she had a little better arranged her own.  She was ashamed of
herself, quite ashamed of being so nervous, so overcome by such a
trifle; but so it was, and it required a long application of solitude
and reflection to recover her.

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

completion: Chapter IX, pages 72-80 Wentworth visits Uppercross almost every day. His presence bothers Charles Hayter, a Musgrove cousin, who has Henrietta in his sights as a wife. Henrietta seemed agreeable to that arrangement, until Captain Wentworth showed up to compete for her attention. Anne cannot determine which sister, Henrietta or Louisa, is Wentworth's favorite, and she must listen to the confidential speculations of Mary and Charles about which sister has the upper hand. Mary tells Anne that she thinks it would be beneath Henrietta to marry Charles Hayter, who is only a curate, when she might capture rich Captain Wentworth. One morning, Wentworth comes to the cottage in search of Henrietta and Louisa, but instead he finds Anne alone with her mending nephew. When a younger nephew comes into the room and climbs on Anne's back to play, Anne cannot get the child to let go of her. Charles, who has come in to read the paper, admonishes the child, but to no avail. It is Captain Wentworth who in a flash removes the child from Anne's back. She is touched by his gallant behavior toward her, but she is also abashed that he avoids her thanks. It takes Anne a long time to recover her composure after this encounter.


prompt:
Chapter: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession
of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his
first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds
of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful
property of some one or other of their daughters.

"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that
Netherfield Park is let at last?"

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she
told me all about it."

Mr. Bennet made no answer.

"Do not you want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.

"_You_ want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."

This was invitation enough.

"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken
by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came
down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much
delighted with it that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is
to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be
in the house by the end of next week."

"What is his name?"

"Bingley."

"Is he married or single?"

"Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four
or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"

"How so? how can it affect them?"

"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You
must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

"Is that his design in settling here?"

"Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he
_may_ fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as
soon as he comes."

"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send
them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are
as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the
party."

"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly _have_ had my share of beauty, but
I do not pretend to be any thing extraordinary now. When a woman has
five grown up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own
beauty."

"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."

"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into
the neighbourhood."

"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."

"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would
be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go,
merely on that account, for in general you know they visit no new
comers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for _us_ to visit
him, if you do not."

"You are over scrupulous surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very
glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my
hearty consent to his marrying which ever he chuses of the girls; though
I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."

"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the
others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so
good humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving _her_ the
preference."

"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are
all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of
quickness than her sisters."

"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take
delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves."

"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They
are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration
these twenty years at least."

"Ah! you do not know what I suffer."

"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four
thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."

"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come since you will not
visit them."

"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them
all."

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour,
reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three and twenty years had
been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. _Her_ mind
was less difficult to develope. She was a woman of mean understanding,
little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented she
fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her
daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.

Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He
had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his
wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was
paid, she had no knowledge of it. It was then disclosed in the following
manner. Observing his second daughter employed in trimming a hat, he
suddenly addressed her with,

"I hope Mr. Bingley will like it Lizzy."

"We are not in a way to know _what_ Mr. Bingley likes," said her mother
resentfully, "since we are not to visit."

"But you forget, mama," said Elizabeth, "that we shall meet him at the
assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him."

"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces
of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion
of her."

"No more have I," said Mr. Bennet; "and I am glad to find that you do
not depend on her serving you."

Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply; but unable to contain
herself, began scolding one of her daughters.

"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven's sake! Have a little
compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces."

"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times
them ill."

"I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully.

"When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?"

"To-morrow fortnight."

"Aye, so it is," cried her mother, "and Mrs. Long does not come back
till the day before; so, it will be impossible for her to introduce him,
for she will not know him herself."

"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce
Mr. Bingley to _her_."

"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him
myself; how can you be so teazing?"

"I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly
very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a
fortnight. But if _we_ do not venture, somebody else will; and after
all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance; and therefore, as
she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will
take it on myself."

The girls stared at their father. Mrs. Bennet said only, "Nonsense,
nonsense!"

"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation?" cried he. "Do
you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on
them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you _there_. What say you,
Mary? for you are a young lady of deep reflection I know, and read great
books, and make extracts."

Mary wished to say something very sensible, but knew not how.

"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to Mr.
Bingley."

"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried his wife.

"I am sorry to hear _that_; but why did not you tell me so before? If I
had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called on
him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we
cannot escape the acquaintance now."

The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs.
Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though when the first tumult of joy
was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the
while.

"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should
persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to
neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! and it is such a
good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning, and never said
a word about it till now."

"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you chuse," said Mr. Bennet; and,
as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.

"What an excellent father you have, girls," said she, when the door was
shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness;
or me either, for that matter. At our time of life, it is not so
pleasant I can tell you, to be making new acquaintance every day; but
for your sakes, we would do any thing. Lydia, my love, though you _are_
the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next
ball."

"Oh!" said Lydia stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I _am_ the
youngest, I'm the tallest."

The rest of the evening was spent in conjecturing how soon he would
return Mr. Bennet's visit, and determining when they should ask him to
dinner.

Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five
daughters, could ask on the subject was sufficient to draw from her
husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him
in various ways; with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and
distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all; and they were at
last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour
Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been
delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely
agreeable, and to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly
with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of
dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively
hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained.

"If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,"
said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, "and all the others equally well
married, I shall have nothing to wish for."

In a few days Mr. Bingley returned Mr. Bennet's visit, and sat about ten
minutes with him in his library. He had entertained hopes of being
admitted to a sight of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard
much; but he saw only the father. The ladies were somewhat more
fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining from an upper
window, that he wore a blue coat and rode a black horse.

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had
Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her
housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley
was obliged to be in town the following day, and consequently unable to
accept the honour of their invitation, &c. Mrs. Bennet was quite
disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town
so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that
he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never
settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a
little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get a
large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley
was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly.
The girls grieved over such a number of ladies; but were comforted the
day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve, he had brought
only six with him from London, his five sisters and a cousin. And when
the party entered the assembly room, it consisted of only five
altogether; Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and
another young man.

Mr. Bingley was good looking and gentleman-like; he had a pleasant
countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women,
with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely
looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention
of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien; and
the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after
his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year. The gentlemen
pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared he was
much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great
admiration for about half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust
which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be
proud, to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his
large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most
forbidding, disagreeable countenance, and being unworthy to be compared
with his friend.

Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal
people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance,
was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one
himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for
themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! Mr. Darcy danced
only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined being
introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in
walking about the room, speaking occasionally to one of his own party.
His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in
the world, and every body hoped that he would never come there again.
Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of
his general behaviour, was sharpened into particular resentment, by his
having slighted one of her daughters.

Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit
down for two dances; and during part of that time, Mr. Darcy had been
standing near enough for her to overhear a conversation between him and
Mr. Bingley, who came from the dance for a few minutes, to press his
friend to join it.

"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you
standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better
dance."

"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am
particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it
would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not
another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment to me to
stand up with."

"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Bingley, "for a
kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my
life, as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see
uncommonly pretty."

"_You_ are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr.
Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

"Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one
of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I
dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."

"Which do you mean?" and turning round, he looked for a moment at
Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said,
"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt _me_; and I am in no
humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted
by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her
smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth
remained with no very cordial feelings towards him. She told the story
however with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively,
playful disposition, which delighted in any thing ridiculous.

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly to the whole family. Mrs.
Bennet had seen her eldest daughter much admired by the Netherfield
party. Mr. Bingley had danced with her twice, and she had been
distinguished by his sisters. Jane was as much gratified by this, as her
mother could be, though in a quieter way. Elizabeth felt Jane's
pleasure. Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most
accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been
fortunate enough to be never without partners, which was all that they
had yet learnt to care for at a ball. They returned therefore in good
spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they
were the principal inhabitants. They found Mr. Bennet still up. With a
book he was regardless of time; and on the present occasion he had a
good deal of curiosity as to the event of an evening which had raised
such splendid expectations. He had rather hoped that all his wife's
views on the stranger would be disappointed; but he soon found that he
had a very different story to hear.

"Oh! my dear Mr. Bennet," as she entered the room, "we have had a most
delightful evening, a most excellent ball. I wish you had been there.
Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Every body said how well
she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with
her twice. Only think of _that_ my dear; he actually danced with her
twice; and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second
time. First of all, he asked Miss Lucas. I was so vexed to see him stand
up with her; but, however, he did not admire her at all: indeed, nobody
can, you know; and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going
down the dance. So, he enquired who she was, and got introduced, and
asked her for the two next. Then, the two third he danced with Miss
King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane
again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the Boulanger----"

"If he had had any compassion for _me_," cried her husband impatiently,
"he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of
his partners. Oh! that he had sprained his ancle in the first dance!"

"Oh! my dear," continued Mrs. Bennet, "I am quite delighted with him. He
is so excessively handsome! and his sisters are charming women. I never
in my life saw any thing more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the
lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown----"

Here she was interrupted again. Mr. Bennet protested against any
description of finery. She was therefore obliged to seek another branch
of the subject, and related, with much bitterness of spirit and some
exaggeration, the shocking rudeness of Mr. Darcy.

"But I can assure you," she added, "that Lizzy does not lose much by not
suiting _his_ fancy; for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at
all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited that there was no enduring
him! He walked here, and he walked there, fancying himself so very
great! Not handsome enough to dance with! I wish you had been there, my
dear, to have given him one of your set downs. I quite detest the man."

When Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in
her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how very much
she admired him.

"He is just what a young man ought to be," said she, "sensible, good
humoured, lively; and I never saw such happy manners!--so much ease,
with such perfect good breeding!"

"He is also handsome," replied Elizabeth, "which a young man ought
likewise to be, if he possibly can. His character is thereby complete."

"I was very much flattered by his asking me to dance a second time. I
did not expect such a compliment."

"Did not you? _I_ did for you. But that is one great difference between
us. Compliments always take _you_ by surprise, and _me_ never. What
could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help
seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in
the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that. Well, he certainly is
very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a
stupider person."

"Dear Lizzy!"

"Oh! you are a great deal too apt you know, to like people in general.
You never see a fault in any body. All the world are good and agreeable
in your eyes. I never heard you speak ill of a human being in my life."

"I would wish not to be hasty in censuring any one; but I always speak
what I think."

"I know you do; and it is _that_ which makes the wonder. With _your_
good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of
others! Affectation of candour is common enough;--one meets it every
where. But to be candid without ostentation or design--to take the good
of every body's character and make it still better, and say nothing of
the bad--belongs to you alone. And so, you like this man's sisters too,
do you? Their manners are not equal to his."

"Certainly not; at first. But they are very pleasing women when you
converse with them. Miss Bingley is to live with her brother and keep
his house; and I am much mistaken if we shall not find a very charming
neighbour in her."

Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced; their behaviour at
the assembly had not been calculated to please in general; and with more
quickness of observation and less pliancy of temper than her sister, and
with a judgment too unassailed by any attention to herself, she was very
little disposed to approve them. They were in fact very fine ladies; not
deficient in good humour when they were pleased, nor in the power of
being agreeable where they chose it; but proud and conceited. They were
rather handsome, had been educated in one of the first private
seminaries in town, had a fortune of twenty thousand pounds, were in the
habit of spending more than they ought, and of associating with people
of rank; and were therefore in every respect entitled to think well of
themselves, and meanly of others. They were of a respectable family in
the north of England; a circumstance more deeply impressed on their
memories than that their brother's fortune and their own had been
acquired by trade.

Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly an hundred
thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate,
but did not live to do it.--Mr. Bingley intended it likewise, and
sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a
good house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those
who best knew the easiness of his temper, whether he might not spend the
remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the next generation to
purchase.

His sisters were very anxious for his having an estate of his own; but
though he was now established only as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no
means unwilling to preside at his table, nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had
married a man of more fashion than fortune, less disposed to consider
his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of
age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to
look at Netherfield House. He did look at it and into it for half an
hour, was pleased with the situation and the principal rooms, satisfied
with what the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of a
great opposition of character.--Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the
easiness, openness, ductility of his temper, though no disposition could
offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he never
appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard Bingley had the
firmest reliance, and of his judgment the highest opinion. In
understanding Darcy was the superior. Bingley was by no means deficient,
but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and
fastidious, and his manners, though well bred, were not inviting. In
that respect his friend had greatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of
being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was continually giving offence.

The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was sufficiently
characteristic. Bingley had never met with pleasanter people or prettier
girls in his life; every body had been most kind and attentive to him,
there had been no formality, no stiffness, he had soon felt acquainted
with all the room; and as to Miss Bennet, he could not conceive an angel
more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people
in whom there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had
felt the smallest interest, and from none received either attention or
pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but she smiled too
much.

Mrs. Hurst and her sister allowed it to be so--but still they admired
her and liked her, and pronounced her to be a sweet girl, and one whom
they should not object to know more of. Miss Bennet was therefore
established as a sweet girl, and their brother felt authorised by such
commendation to think of her as he chose.

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets
were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade
in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune and risen to the
honour of knighthood by an address to the King, during his mayoralty.
The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a
disgust to his business and to his residence in a small market town; and
quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a
mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge, where he
could think with pleasure of his own importance, and unshackled by
business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For
though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the
contrary, he was all attention to every body. By nature inoffensive,
friendly and obliging, his presentation at St. James's had made him
courteous.

Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a
valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet.--They had several children. The
eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven,
was Elizabeth's intimate friend.

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a
ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly
brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.

"_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with civil
self-command to Miss Lucas. "_You_ were Mr. Bingley's first choice."

"Yes;--but he seemed to like his second better."

"Oh!--you mean Jane, I suppose--because he danced with her twice. To be
sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her--indeed I rather believe he
_did_--I heard something about it--but I hardly know what--something
about Mr. Robinson."

"Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson; did not
I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton
assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty
women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his
answering immediately to the last question--Oh! the eldest Miss Bennet
beyond a doubt, there cannot be two opinions on that point."

"Upon my word!--Well, that was very decided indeed--that does seem as
if----but however, it may all come to nothing you know."

"_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza," said
Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend,
is he?--Poor Eliza!--to be only just _tolerable_."

"I beg you would not put it into Lizzy's head to be vexed by his
ill-treatment; for he is such a disagreeable man that it would be quite
a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he
sat close to her for half an hour without once opening his lips."

"Are you quite sure, Ma'am?--is not there a little mistake?" said
Jane.--"I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her."

"Aye--because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he
could not help answering her;--but she said he seemed very angry at
being spoke to."

"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much unless
among his intimate acquaintance. With _them_ he is remarkably
agreeable."

"I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very
agreeable he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it was;
every body says that he is ate up with pride, and I dare say he had
heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had come to
the ball in a hack chaise."

"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas, "but I
wish he had danced with Eliza."

"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with _him_,
if I were you."

"I believe, Ma'am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with him."

"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend _me_ so much as pride
often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so
very fine a young man, with family, fortune, every thing in his favour,
should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_
to be proud."

"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive
_his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_."

"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her
reflections, "is a very common failing I believe. By all that I have
ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human
nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us
who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some
quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different
things, though the words are often used synonimously. A person may be
proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of
ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."

"If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," cried a young Lucas who came with his
sisters, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of
foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day."

"Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought," said Mrs.
Bennet; "and if I were to see you at it I should take away your bottle
directly."

The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she
would, and the argument ended only with the visit.

The ladies of Longbourn soon waited on those of Netherfield. The visit
was returned in due form. Miss Bennet's pleasing manners grew on the
good will of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was
found to be intolerable and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a
wish of being better acquainted with _them_, was expressed towards the
two eldest. By Jane this attention was received with the greatest
pleasure; but Elizabeth still saw superciliousness in their treatment of
every body, hardly excepting even her sister, and could not like them;
though their kindness to Jane, such as it was, had a value as arising in
all probability from the influence of their brother's admiration. It was
generally evident whenever they met, that he _did_ admire her; and to
_her_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference
which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a
way to be very much in love; but she considered with pleasure that it
was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane
united with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a
uniform cheerfulness of manner, which would guard her from the
suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Miss
Lucas.

"It may perhaps be pleasant," replied Charlotte, "to be able to impose
on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be
so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill
from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and
it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the
dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every
attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all
_begin_ freely--a slight preference is natural enough; but there are
very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without
encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better shew _more_
affection than she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he
may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."

"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If _I_ can
perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton indeed not to
discover it too."

"Remember, Eliza, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do."

"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal
it, he must find it out."

"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But though Bingley and Jane
meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and as they
always see each other in large mixed parties, it is impossible that
every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should
therefore make the most of every half hour in which she can command his
attention. When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling
in love as much as she chuses."

"Your plan is a good one," replied Elizabeth, "where nothing is in
question but the desire of being well married; and if I were determined
to get a rich husband, or any husband, I dare say I should adopt it. But
these are not Jane's feelings; she is not acting by design. As yet, she
cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its
reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four
dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house,
and has since dined in company with him four times. This is not quite
enough to make her understand his character."

"Not as you represent it. Had she merely _dined_ with him, she might
only have discovered whether he had a good appetite; but you must
remember that four evenings have been also spent together--and four
evenings may do a great deal."

"Yes; these four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both
like Vingt-un better than Commerce; but with respect to any other
leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded."

"Well," said Charlotte, "I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if
she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a
chance of happiness, as if she were to be studying his character for a
twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If
the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or
ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the
least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to
have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as
possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your
life."

"You make me laugh, Charlotte; but it is not sound. You know it is not
sound, and that you would never act in this way yourself."

Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth
was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some
interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely
allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at the
ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no
sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had
hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered
uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To
this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had
detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry
in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and
pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those
of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of
this she was perfectly unaware;--to her he was only the man who made
himself agreeable no where, and who had not thought her handsome enough
to dance with.

He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards conversing
with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so
drew her notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were
assembled.

"What does Mr. Darcy mean," said she to Charlotte, "by listening to my
conversation with Colonel Forster?"

"That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer."

"But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I see
what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do not begin by
being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid of him."

On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming to have
any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend to mention such
a subject to him, which immediately provoking Elizabeth to do it, she
turned to him and said,

"Did not you think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well
just now, when I was teazing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at
Meryton?"

"With great energy;--but it is a subject which always makes a lady
energetic."

"You are severe on us."

"It will be _her_ turn soon to be teazed," said Miss Lucas. "I am going
to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows."

"You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!--always wanting me
to play and sing before any body and every body!--If my vanity had taken
a musical turn, you would have been invaluable, but as it is, I would
really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of
hearing the very best performers." On Miss Lucas's persevering, however,
she added, "Very well; if it must be so, it must." And gravely glancing
at Mr. Darcy, "There is a fine old saying, which every body here is of
course familiar with--'Keep your breath to cool your porridge,'--and I
shall keep mine to swell my song."

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a song
or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of several that she
would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at the instrument by her
sister Mary, who having, in consequence of being the only plain one in
the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, was always
impatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given her
application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and conceited
manner, which would have injured a higher degree of excellence than she
had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected, had been listened to with
much more pleasure, though not playing half so well; and Mary, at the
end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by
Scotch and Irish airs, at the request of her younger sisters, who with
some of the Lucases and two or three officers joined eagerly in dancing
at one end of the room.

Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of
passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and was too
much engrossed by his own thoughts to perceive that Sir William Lucas
was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began.

"What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy!--There
is nothing like dancing after all.--I consider it as one of the first
refinements of polished societies."

"Certainly, Sir;--and it has the advantage also of being in vogue
amongst the less polished societies of the world.--Every savage can
dance."

Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully;" he
continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group;--"and I doubt
not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy."

"You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, Sir."

"Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight. Do
you often dance at St. James's?"

"Never, sir."

"Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?"

"It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid it."

"You have a house in town, I conclude?"

Mr. Darcy bowed.

"I had once some thoughts of fixing in town myself--for I am fond of
superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that the air of
London would agree with Lady Lucas."

He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not disposed to
make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was
struck with the notion of doing a very gallant thing, and called out to
her,

"My dear Miss Eliza, why are not you dancing?--Mr. Darcy, you must allow
me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner.--You
cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you."
And taking her hand, he would have given it to Mr. Darcy, who, though
extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when she instantly
drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William,

"Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing.--I entreat you
not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."

Mr. Darcy with grave propriety requested to be allowed the honour of her
hand; but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all
shake her purpose by his attempt at persuasion.

"You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me
the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the
amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us
for one half hour."

"Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said Elizabeth, smiling.

"He is indeed--but considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we
cannot wonder at his complaisance; for who would object to such a
partner?"

Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not
injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with some
complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley,

"I can guess the subject of your reverie."

"I should imagine not."

"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings
in this manner--in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion.
I was never more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the
nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people!--What would
I give to hear your strictures on them!"

"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more
agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure
which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he
would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections.
Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity,

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" repeated Miss Bingley. "I am all astonishment.
How long has she been such a favourite?--and pray when am I to wish you
joy?"

"That is exactly the question which I expected you to ask. A lady's
imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love
to matrimony in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy."

"Nay, if you are so serious about it, I shall consider the matter as
absolutely settled. You will have a charming mother-in-law, indeed, and
of course she will be always at Pemberley with you."

He listened to her with perfect indifference, while she chose to
entertain herself in this manner, and as his composure convinced her
that all was safe, her wit flowed long.

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

completion: The novel begins at Longbourn, at the Bennet family estate. The Bennets are immersed in an in-depth conversation about Mr. Bingley, "a single man of large fortune" who is soon to inhabit the nearby estate of Netherfield Park. Mrs. Bennet hopes that Mr. Bingley will be a potential suitor for one of her daughters. She desperately wants her husband to visit him, hoping that will spark an acquaintance. Mr. Bennet remains aloof, however, and refuses to commit. His attitude infuriates his wife, whose primary life concern is finding husbands for her daughters. There are five daughters in the Bennet family : Jane, Elizabeth Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. It is clear from the beginning of the novel that Mr. Bennet prefers Elizabeth because of her practical nature. Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, appears to be more fond of Jane because of her beauty, and of Lydia because of her good humor. Chapter 2 Mr. Bennet visits Mr. Bingley without telling his family and only mentions it nonchalantly a few days later. He had always intended to visit, but kept refusing in order to irk Mrs. Bennet. After his revelation, Mr. Bennet continues to annoy his wife - and their younger daughters, too - by refusing to answer any of their questions about the mysterious Bingley. Chapter 3 Mr. Bingley returns Mr. Bennet's visit a few days later, but the women do not meet him at that point. Mrs. Bennet's only information about Bingley comes from her neighbor, Mrs. Lucas. After hearing about him, Mrs. Bennet becomes convinced that she will be able to snatch Bingley for one of her daughters. She invites Bingley to dinner. Unfortunately, he is forced to decline because of his commitment to fetch a party from London to attend a ball he is throwing at nearby Meryton. On the night of the Meryton ball, the Bennet ladies finally meet Mr. Bingley, his sisters , and Mr. Darcy, his friend from London. The Bennet girls quickly judge Mr. Darcy to be "the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world" because of his reserve and his unwillingness to dance with anyone outside of his own party. At one point, Bingley encourages Darcy to dance with Elizabeth, who is not dancing either, but he refuses. Elizabeth overhears Darcy describe her as "tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me." She is understandably outraged, and the encounter solidifies her ill opinion of him. On the other hand, the Bennet girls find Mr. Bingley to be entirely amiable. He dances the first dance with Charlotte Lucas, the Bennets's neighbor and Elizabeth's best friend, but he seems to be most interested in Jane, with whom he dances twice and talks frequently. Upon returning home, Mrs. Bennet attempts to describe the ball to Mr. Bennet, but he is indifferent to the news and becomes quickly irritated with everything his wife says. Chapter 4 When they are alone, Jane admits her feelings for Bingley to Elizabeth. It is clear that the sisters are quite close. Elizabeth approves of Bingley, but cautions Jane to be certain of the nature of her feelings because the older Bennet daughter never sees fault in anyone. They also discuss Caroline and Bingley's other sisters. Elizabeth found them to be snobbish, but Jane describes them as charming. The narrator then reveals some important personal information about Bingley and Darcy. Bingley is extraordinarily wealthy because of a large inheritance from his late father. He has been friends with Darcy for a long time, despite their opposite personalities. Bingley is easy-going and open, while Darcy is haughty and reserved. While Bingley found the company at the Meryton ball to be quite amiable, Darcy saw no one with whom he wished to associate. Darcy even finds fault with the beautiful Jane; she smiles too much for his taste. Bingley's sisters approve of Jane, though, which makes their brother happy. Chapter 5 The narrator describes the Lucas family, who live near Longbourn. Sir William Lucas was once a merchant, but he has become overly proud after being knighted. His wife, Mrs. Lucas, is a close confidant of Mrs. Bennet, and their daughter Charlotte is Elizabeth's closest friend. The day after the ball, Charlotte and Mrs. Lucas visit the Bennet ladies to share their experiences. They all voice their general admiration for Jane and share the belief that Bingley is attracted to her. They also criticize Darcy because of his pride. Mary remarks that pride is universal to human nature, and articulates the difference between pride and vanity. She comments, "Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us." Chapter 6 Though they do not care for Mrs. Bennet or the younger Bennet sisters, Bingley's sisters become acquainted with Jane and Elizabeth over the course of several visits. Jane is pleased by their attention, while Elizabeth remains critical of them. The Bennet sisters also see Bingley and Darcy on occasion. When Elizabeth speaks to Charlotte about Bingley's affection for Jane, Charlotte tells Elizabeth that Jane must be more obvious about her affection, lest the "uniform cheerfulness of manner" discourage Bingley. Charlotte believes that a woman should show more affection than she feels in order to attract a man, commenting that "happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance." Elizabeth is skeptical of both assertions. During this period, Mr. Darcy grows interested in Elizabeth. He is attracted to her dark, intelligent eyes and the "easy playfulness" of her manner. At a dinner held by Sir William Lucas, Darcy eavesdrops on a conversation between Elizabeth and Sir William Lucas. Sir William, unaware of Darcy's affections, begs Elizabeth to dance with Darcy - but she steadfastly refuses. Darcy mentions his admiration for Elizabeth to Caroline Bingley. Caroline responds to his revelation by criticizing the Bennet family, but Darcy does not partake her the mockery.