Chapter: Anne and Henrietta, finding themselves the earliest of the party the
next morning, agreed to stroll down to the sea before breakfast.  They
went to the sands, to watch the flowing of the tide, which a fine
south-easterly breeze was bringing in with all the grandeur which so
flat a shore admitted.  They praised the morning; gloried in the sea;
sympathized in the delight of the fresh-feeling breeze--and were
silent; till Henrietta suddenly began again with--

"Oh! yes,--I am quite convinced that, with very few exceptions, the
sea-air always does good.  There can be no doubt of its having been of
the greatest service to Dr Shirley, after his illness, last spring
twelve-month.  He declares himself, that coming to Lyme for a month,
did him more good than all the medicine he took; and, that being by the
sea, always makes him feel young again.  Now, I cannot help thinking it
a pity that he does not live entirely by the sea.  I do think he had
better leave Uppercross entirely, and fix at Lyme.  Do not you, Anne?
Do not you agree with me, that it is the best thing he could do, both
for himself and Mrs Shirley?  She has cousins here, you know, and many
acquaintance, which would make it cheerful for her, and I am sure she
would be glad to get to a place where she could have medical attendance
at hand, in case of his having another seizure.  Indeed I think it
quite melancholy to have such excellent people as Dr and Mrs Shirley,
who have been doing good all their lives, wearing out their last days
in a place like Uppercross, where, excepting our family, they seem shut
out from all the world.  I wish his friends would propose it to him.  I
really think they ought.  And, as to procuring a dispensation, there
could be no difficulty at his time of life, and with his character.  My
only doubt is, whether anything could persuade him to leave his parish.
He is so very strict and scrupulous in his notions; over-scrupulous I
must say.  Do not you think, Anne, it is being over-scrupulous?  Do not
you think it is quite a mistaken point of conscience, when a clergyman
sacrifices his health for the sake of duties, which may be just as well
performed by another person?  And at Lyme too, only seventeen miles
off, he would be near enough to hear, if people thought there was
anything to complain of."

Anne smiled more than once to herself during this speech, and entered
into the subject, as ready to do good by entering into the feelings of
a young lady as of a young man, though here it was good of a lower
standard, for what could be offered but general acquiescence?  She said
all that was reasonable and proper on the business; felt the claims of
Dr Shirley to repose as she ought; saw how very desirable it was that
he should have some active, respectable young man, as a resident
curate, and was even courteous enough to hint at the advantage of such
resident curate's being married.

"I wish," said Henrietta, very well pleased with her companion, "I wish
Lady Russell lived at Uppercross, and were intimate with Dr Shirley.  I
have always heard of Lady Russell as a woman of the greatest influence
with everybody!  I always look upon her as able to persuade a person to
anything!  I am afraid of her, as I have told you before, quite afraid
of her, because she is so very clever; but I respect her amazingly, and
wish we had such a neighbour at Uppercross."

Anne was amused by Henrietta's manner of being grateful, and amused
also that the course of events and the new interests of Henrietta's
views should have placed her friend at all in favour with any of the
Musgrove family; she had only time, however, for a general answer, and
a wish that such another woman were at Uppercross, before all subjects
suddenly ceased, on seeing Louisa and Captain Wentworth coming towards
them.  They came also for a stroll till breakfast was likely to be
ready; but Louisa recollecting, immediately afterwards that she had
something to procure at a shop, invited them all to go back with her
into the town.  They were all at her disposal.

When they came to the steps, leading upwards from the beach, a
gentleman, at the same moment preparing to come down, politely drew
back, and stopped to give them way.  They ascended and passed him; and
as they passed, Anne's face caught his eye, and he looked at her with a
degree of earnest admiration, which she could not be insensible of.
She was looking remarkably well; her very regular, very pretty
features, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored by the fine
wind which had been blowing on her complexion, and by the animation of
eye which it had also produced.  It was evident that the gentleman,
(completely a gentleman in manner) admired her exceedingly.  Captain
Wentworth looked round at her instantly in a way which shewed his
noticing of it.  He gave her a momentary glance, a glance of
brightness, which seemed to say, "That man is struck with you, and even
I, at this moment, see something like Anne Elliot again."

After attending Louisa through her business, and loitering about a
little longer, they returned to the inn; and Anne, in passing
afterwards quickly from her own chamber to their dining-room, had
nearly run against the very same gentleman, as he came out of an
adjoining apartment.  She had before conjectured him to be a stranger
like themselves, and determined that a well-looking groom, who was
strolling about near the two inns as they came back, should be his
servant.  Both master and man being in mourning assisted the idea.  It
was now proved that he belonged to the same inn as themselves; and this
second meeting, short as it was, also proved again by the gentleman's
looks, that he thought hers very lovely, and by the readiness and
propriety of his apologies, that he was a man of exceedingly good
manners.  He seemed about thirty, and though not handsome, had an
agreeable person.  Anne felt that she should like to know who he was.

They had nearly done breakfast, when the sound of a carriage, (almost
the first they had heard since entering Lyme) drew half the party to
the window.  It was a gentleman's carriage, a curricle, but only coming
round from the stable-yard to the front door; somebody must be going
away.  It was driven by a servant in mourning.

The word curricle made Charles Musgrove jump up that he might compare
it with his own; the servant in mourning roused Anne's curiosity, and
the whole six were collected to look, by the time the owner of the
curricle was to be seen issuing from the door amidst the bows and
civilities of the household, and taking his seat, to drive off.

"Ah!" cried Captain Wentworth, instantly, and with half a glance at
Anne, "it is the very man we passed."

The Miss Musgroves agreed to it; and having all kindly watched him as
far up the hill as they could, they returned to the breakfast table.
The waiter came into the room soon afterwards.

"Pray," said Captain Wentworth, immediately, "can you tell us the name
of the gentleman who is just gone away?"

"Yes, Sir, a Mr Elliot, a gentleman of large fortune, came in last
night from Sidmouth.  Dare say you heard the carriage, sir, while you
were at dinner; and going on now for Crewkherne, in his way to Bath and
London."

"Elliot!"  Many had looked on each other, and many had repeated the
name, before all this had been got through, even by the smart rapidity
of a waiter.

"Bless me!" cried Mary; "it must be our cousin; it must be our Mr
Elliot, it must, indeed!  Charles, Anne, must not it?  In mourning, you
see, just as our Mr Elliot must be.  How very extraordinary!  In the
very same inn with us!  Anne, must not it be our Mr Elliot?  my
father's next heir?  Pray sir," turning to the waiter, "did not you
hear, did not his servant say whether he belonged to the Kellynch
family?"

"No, ma'am, he did not mention no particular family; but he said his
master was a very rich gentleman, and would be a baronight some day."

"There! you see!" cried Mary in an ecstasy, "just as I said!  Heir to
Sir Walter Elliot!  I was sure that would come out, if it was so.
Depend upon it, that is a circumstance which his servants take care to
publish, wherever he goes.  But, Anne, only conceive how extraordinary!
I wish I had looked at him more.  I wish we had been aware in time, who
it was, that he might have been introduced to us.  What a pity that we
should not have been introduced to each other!  Do you think he had the
Elliot countenance?  I hardly looked at him, I was looking at the
horses; but I think he had something of the Elliot countenance, I
wonder the arms did not strike me!  Oh! the great-coat was hanging over
the panel, and hid the arms, so it did; otherwise, I am sure, I should
have observed them, and the livery too; if the servant had not been in
mourning, one should have known him by the livery."

"Putting all these very extraordinary circumstances together," said
Captain Wentworth, "we must consider it to be the arrangement of
Providence, that you should not be introduced to your cousin."

When she could command Mary's attention, Anne quietly tried to convince
her that their father and Mr Elliot had not, for many years, been on
such terms as to make the power of attempting an introduction at all
desirable.

At the same time, however, it was a secret gratification to herself to
have seen her cousin, and to know that the future owner of Kellynch was
undoubtedly a gentleman, and had an air of good sense.  She would not,
upon any account, mention her having met with him the second time;
luckily Mary did not much attend to their having passed close by him in
their earlier walk, but she would have felt quite ill-used by Anne's
having actually run against him in the passage, and received his very
polite excuses, while she had never been near him at all; no, that
cousinly little interview must remain a perfect secret.

"Of course," said Mary, "you will mention our seeing Mr Elliot, the
next time you write to Bath.  I think my father certainly ought to hear
of it; do mention all about him."

Anne avoided a direct reply, but it was just the circumstance which she
considered as not merely unnecessary to be communicated, but as what
ought to be suppressed.  The offence which had been given her father,
many years back, she knew; Elizabeth's particular share in it she
suspected; and that Mr Elliot's idea always produced irritation in both
was beyond a doubt.  Mary never wrote to Bath herself; all the toil of
keeping up a slow and unsatisfactory correspondence with Elizabeth fell
on Anne.

Breakfast had not been long over, when they were joined by Captain and
Mrs Harville and Captain Benwick; with whom they had appointed to take
their last walk about Lyme.  They ought to be setting off for
Uppercross by one, and in the meanwhile were to be all together, and
out of doors as long as they could.

Anne found Captain Benwick getting near her, as soon as they were all
fairly in the street.  Their conversation the preceding evening did not
disincline him to seek her again; and they walked together some time,
talking as before of Mr Scott and Lord Byron, and still as unable as
before, and as unable as any other two readers, to think exactly alike
of the merits of either, till something occasioned an almost general
change amongst their party, and instead of Captain Benwick, she had
Captain Harville by her side.

"Miss Elliot," said he, speaking rather low, "you have done a good deed
in making that poor fellow talk so much.  I wish he could have such
company oftener.  It is bad for him, I know, to be shut up as he is;
but what can we do?  We cannot part."

"No," said Anne, "that I can easily believe to be impossible; but in
time, perhaps--we know what time does in every case of affliction, and
you must remember, Captain Harville, that your friend may yet be called
a young mourner--only last summer, I understand."

"Ay, true enough," (with a deep sigh) "only June."

"And not known to him, perhaps, so soon."

"Not till the first week of August, when he came home from the Cape,
just made into the Grappler.  I was at Plymouth dreading to hear of
him; he sent in letters, but the Grappler was under orders for
Portsmouth.  There the news must follow him, but who was to tell it?
not I.  I would as soon have been run up to the yard-arm.  Nobody could
do it, but that good fellow" (pointing to Captain Wentworth.)  "The
Laconia had come into Plymouth the week before; no danger of her being
sent to sea again.  He stood his chance for the rest; wrote up for
leave of absence, but without waiting the return, travelled night and
day till he got to Portsmouth, rowed off to the Grappler that instant,
and never left the poor fellow for a week.  That's what he did, and
nobody else could have saved poor James.  You may think, Miss Elliot,
whether he is dear to us!"

Anne did think on the question with perfect decision, and said as much
in reply as her own feeling could accomplish, or as his seemed able to
bear, for he was too much affected to renew the subject, and when he
spoke again, it was of something totally different.

Mrs Harville's giving it as her opinion that her husband would have
quite walking enough by the time he reached home, determined the
direction of all the party in what was to be their last walk; they
would accompany them to their door, and then return and set off
themselves.  By all their calculations there was just time for this;
but as they drew near the Cobb, there was such a general wish to walk
along it once more, all were so inclined, and Louisa soon grew so
determined, that the difference of a quarter of an hour, it was found,
would be no difference at all; so with all the kind leave-taking, and
all the kind interchange of invitations and promises which may be
imagined, they parted from Captain and Mrs Harville at their own door,
and still accompanied by Captain Benwick, who seemed to cling to them
to the last, proceeded to make the proper adieus to the Cobb.

Anne found Captain Benwick again drawing near her.  Lord Byron's "dark
blue seas" could not fail of being brought forward by their present
view, and she gladly gave him all her attention as long as attention
was possible.  It was soon drawn, perforce another way.

There was too much wind to make the high part of the new Cobb pleasant
for the ladies, and they agreed to get down the steps to the lower, and
all were contented to pass quietly and carefully down the steep flight,
excepting Louisa; she must be jumped down them by Captain Wentworth.
In all their walks, he had had to jump her from the stiles; the
sensation was delightful to her.  The hardness of the pavement for her
feet, made him less willing upon the present occasion; he did it,
however.  She was safely down, and instantly, to show her enjoyment,
ran up the steps to be jumped down again.  He advised her against it,
thought the jar too great; but no, he reasoned and talked in vain, she
smiled and said, "I am determined I will:" he put out his hands; she
was too precipitate by half a second, she fell on the pavement on the
Lower Cobb, and was taken up lifeless!  There was no wound, no blood,
no visible bruise; but her eyes were closed, she breathed not, her face
was like death.  The horror of the moment to all who stood around!

Captain Wentworth, who had caught her up, knelt with her in his arms,
looking on her with a face as pallid as her own, in an agony of
silence.  "She is dead! she is dead!" screamed Mary, catching hold of
her husband, and contributing with his own horror to make him
immoveable; and in another moment, Henrietta, sinking under the
conviction, lost her senses too, and would have fallen on the steps,
but for Captain Benwick and Anne, who caught and supported her between
them.

"Is there no one to help me?" were the first words which burst from
Captain Wentworth, in a tone of despair, and as if all his own strength
were gone.

"Go to him, go to him," cried Anne, "for heaven's sake go to him.  I
can support her myself.  Leave me, and go to him.  Rub her hands, rub
her temples; here are salts; take them, take them."

Captain Benwick obeyed, and Charles at the same moment, disengaging
himself from his wife, they were both with him; and Louisa was raised
up and supported more firmly between them, and everything was done that
Anne had prompted, but in vain; while Captain Wentworth, staggering
against the wall for his support, exclaimed in the bitterest agony--

"Oh God! her father and mother!"

"A surgeon!" said Anne.

He caught the word; it seemed to rouse him at once, and saying only--
"True, true, a surgeon this instant," was darting away, when Anne
eagerly suggested--

"Captain Benwick, would not it be better for Captain Benwick?  He knows
where a surgeon is to be found."

Every one capable of thinking felt the advantage of the idea, and in a
moment (it was all done in rapid moments) Captain Benwick had resigned
the poor corpse-like  figure entirely to the brother's care, and was
off for the town with the utmost rapidity.

As to the wretched party left behind, it could scarcely be said which
of the three, who were completely rational, was suffering most: Captain
Wentworth, Anne, or Charles, who, really a very affectionate brother,
hung over Louisa with sobs of grief, and could only turn his eyes from
one sister, to see the other in a state as insensible, or to witness
the hysterical agitations of his wife, calling on him for help which he
could not give.

Anne, attending with all the strength and zeal, and thought, which
instinct supplied, to Henrietta, still tried, at intervals, to suggest
comfort to the others, tried to quiet Mary, to animate Charles, to
assuage the feelings of Captain Wentworth.  Both seemed to look to her
for directions.

"Anne, Anne," cried Charles, "What is to be done next?  What, in
heaven's name, is to be done next?"

Captain Wentworth's eyes were also turned towards her.

"Had not she better be carried to the inn?  Yes, I am sure: carry her
gently to the inn."

"Yes, yes, to the inn," repeated Captain Wentworth, comparatively
collected, and eager to be doing something.  "I will carry her myself.
Musgrove, take care of the others."

By this time the report of the accident had spread among the workmen
and boatmen about the Cobb, and many were collected near them, to be
useful if wanted, at any rate, to enjoy the sight of a dead young lady,
nay, two dead young ladies, for it proved twice as fine as the first
report.  To some of the best-looking of these good people Henrietta was
consigned, for, though partially revived, she was quite helpless; and
in this manner, Anne walking by her side, and Charles attending to his
wife, they set forward, treading back with feelings unutterable, the
ground, which so lately, so very lately, and so light of heart, they
had passed along.

They were not off the Cobb, before the Harvilles met them.  Captain
Benwick had been seen flying by their house, with a countenance which
showed something to be wrong; and they had set off immediately,
informed and directed as they passed, towards the spot.  Shocked as
Captain Harville was, he brought senses and nerves that could be
instantly useful; and a look between him and his wife decided what was
to be done.  She must be taken to their house; all must go to their
house; and await the surgeon's arrival there.  They would not listen to
scruples:  he was obeyed; they were all beneath his roof; and while
Louisa, under Mrs Harville's direction, was conveyed up stairs, and
given possession of her own bed, assistance, cordials, restoratives
were supplied by her husband to all who needed them.

Louisa had once opened her eyes, but soon closed them again, without
apparent consciousness.  This had been a proof of life, however, of
service to her sister; and Henrietta, though perfectly incapable of
being in the same room with Louisa, was kept, by the agitation of hope
and fear, from a return of her own insensibility.  Mary, too, was
growing calmer.

The surgeon was with them almost before it had seemed possible.  They
were sick with horror, while he examined; but he was not hopeless.  The
head had received a severe contusion, but he had seen greater injuries
recovered from:  he was by no means hopeless; he spoke cheerfully.

That he did not regard it as a desperate case, that he did not say a
few hours must end it, was at first felt, beyond the hope of most; and
the ecstasy of such a reprieve, the rejoicing, deep and silent, after a
few fervent ejaculations of gratitude to Heaven had been offered, may
be conceived.

The tone, the look, with which "Thank God!" was uttered by Captain
Wentworth, Anne was sure could never be forgotten by her; nor the sight
of him afterwards, as he sat near a table, leaning over it with folded
arms and face concealed, as if overpowered by the various feelings of
his soul, and trying by prayer and reflection to calm them.

Louisa's limbs had escaped.  There was no injury but to the head.

It now became necessary for the party to consider what was best to be
done, as to their general situation.  They were now able to speak to
each other and consult.  That Louisa must remain where she was, however
distressing to her friends to be involving the Harvilles in such
trouble, did not admit a doubt.  Her removal was impossible.  The
Harvilles silenced all scruples; and, as much as they could, all
gratitude.  They had looked forward and arranged everything before the
others began to reflect.  Captain Benwick must give up his room to
them, and get another bed elsewhere; and the whole was settled.  They
were only concerned that the house could accommodate no more; and yet
perhaps, by "putting the children away in the maid's room, or swinging
a cot somewhere," they could hardly bear to think of not finding room
for two or three besides, supposing they might wish to stay; though,
with regard to any attendance on Miss Musgrove, there need not be the
least uneasiness in leaving her to Mrs Harville's care entirely.  Mrs
Harville was a very experienced nurse, and her nursery-maid, who had
lived with her long, and gone about with her everywhere, was just such
another.  Between these two, she could want no possible attendance by
day or night.  And all this was said with a truth and sincerity of
feeling irresistible.

Charles, Henrietta, and Captain Wentworth were the three in
consultation, and for a little while it was only an interchange of
perplexity and terror.  "Uppercross, the necessity of some one's going
to Uppercross; the news to be conveyed; how it could be broken to Mr
and Mrs Musgrove; the lateness of the morning; an hour already gone
since they ought to have been off; the impossibility of being in
tolerable time." At first, they were capable of nothing more to the
purpose than such exclamations; but, after a while, Captain Wentworth,
exerting himself, said--

"We must be decided, and without the loss of another minute.  Every
minute is valuable.  Some one must resolve on being off for Uppercross
instantly.  Musgrove, either you or I must go."

Charles agreed, but declared his resolution of not going away.  He
would be as little incumbrance as possible to Captain and Mrs Harville;
but as to leaving his sister in such a state, he neither ought, nor
would.  So far it was decided; and Henrietta at first declared the
same.  She, however, was soon persuaded to think differently.  The
usefulness of her staying!  She who had not been able to remain in
Louisa's room, or to look at her, without sufferings which made her
worse than helpless!  She was forced to acknowledge that she could do
no good, yet was still unwilling to be away, till, touched by the
thought of her father and mother, she gave it up; she consented, she
was anxious to be at home.

The plan had reached this point, when Anne, coming quietly down from
Louisa's room, could not but hear what followed, for the parlour door
was open.

"Then it is settled, Musgrove," cried Captain Wentworth, "that you
stay, and that I take care of your sister home.  But as to the rest, as
to the others, if one stays to assist Mrs Harville, I think it need be
only one.  Mrs Charles Musgrove will, of course, wish to get back to
her children; but if Anne will stay, no one so proper, so capable as
Anne."

She paused a moment to recover from the emotion of hearing herself so
spoken of.  The other two warmly agreed with what he said, and she then
appeared.

"You will stay, I am sure; you will stay and nurse her;" cried he,
turning to her and speaking with a glow, and yet a gentleness, which
seemed almost restoring the past.  She coloured deeply, and he
recollected himself and moved away.  She expressed herself most
willing, ready, happy to remain.  "It was what she had been thinking
of, and wishing to be allowed to do.  A bed on the floor in Louisa's
room would be sufficient for her, if Mrs Harville would but think so."

One thing more, and all seemed arranged.  Though it was rather
desirable that Mr and Mrs Musgrove should be previously alarmed by some
share of delay; yet the time required by the Uppercross horses to take
them back, would be a dreadful extension of suspense; and Captain
Wentworth proposed, and Charles Musgrove agreed, that it would be much
better for him to take a chaise from the inn, and leave Mr Musgrove's
carriage and horses to be sent home the next morning early, when there
would be the farther advantage of sending an account of Louisa's night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(End of volume one.)

 Anne and Henrietta wake up early and go for a walk on the beach; Henrietta is in that relationship stage where she can't talk about anything but her boyfriend. Louisa and Captain Wentworth join them, and then they head to town to do some shopping. On their way they run into a strange man who totally checks Anne out; his doing so causes Captain Wentworth to realize that Anne is looking more like her old self. Back at the hotel Anne runs into the stranger again, and notes both that he has "exceedingly good manners" and that he is in mourning. At breakfast they notice the man's carriage leaving, and Captain Wentworth asks the waiter who the stranger was. Turns out his name is Mr. Elliot. Mary immediately assumes that the man is their cousin, Mr. William Elliot, who is currently in mourning for his wife. Mary bemoans not getting a chance to introduce herself, while Anne tries gently to convince her that, because of the family feud, Sir Walter would prefer mutual shunning. To herself, Anne feels pleased that the future occupant of Kellynch appears to have manners and good sense . The Harvilles and Captain Benwick join the Musgrove entourage for their last walk around Lyme. Captain Benwick again locks onto Anne to continue their emo-poetry discussion of the preceding evening. The group reshuffles, and Anne finds herself with Captain Harville, who discusses Benwick's sad history and Wentworth's exemplary friendship. They drop the Harvilles off at their house and continue their walk on the Cobb, a kind of pier on two levels Anne overhears that last bit from outside the door and is set all a-flutter once more. Wentworth appeals directly to Anne to be Louisa's nursemaid, and Anne unhesitatingly agrees. All is well until Mary Mary Quite Contrary gets wind of this plan, and insists that she should stay and Anne should go. The others are powerless before the might of her whine, so it is Anne who sets off for Uppercross with Wentworth and Henrietta. Wentworth mostly ignores Anne on the journey, through his few words to her suggest that he feels a little guilty for not having prevented the tragedy. Anne refrains from saying "I told you so," but secretly hopes that Wentworth is rethinking his preference for resolute characters. As they arrive at Uppercross, Wentworth asks Anne's opinion of his plan: that he go in first to break the news. Anne agrees with this proposition, and feels pleased that he values her judgment enough to ask her what she thought. The announcement made, Anne and Henrietta remain at Uppercross while Wentworth heads back to Lyme.

