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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

