Chapter: While Admiral Croft was taking this walk with Anne, and expressing his
wish of getting Captain Wentworth to Bath, Captain Wentworth was
already on his way thither.  Before Mrs Croft had written, he was
arrived, and the very next time Anne walked out, she saw him.

Mr Elliot was attending his two cousins and Mrs Clay.  They were in
Milsom Street.  It began to rain, not much, but enough to make shelter
desirable for women, and quite enough to make it very desirable for
Miss Elliot to have the advantage of being conveyed home in Lady
Dalrymple's carriage, which was seen waiting at a little distance; she,
Anne, and Mrs Clay, therefore, turned into Molland's, while Mr Elliot
stepped to Lady Dalrymple, to request her assistance.  He soon joined
them again, successful, of course; Lady Dalrymple would be most happy
to take them home, and would call for them in a few minutes.

Her ladyship's carriage was a barouche, and did not hold more than four
with any comfort.  Miss Carteret was with her mother; consequently it
was not reasonable to expect accommodation for all the three Camden
Place ladies.  There could be no doubt as to Miss Elliot.  Whoever
suffered inconvenience, she must suffer none, but it occupied a little
time to settle the point of civility between the other two.  The rain
was a mere trifle, and Anne was most sincere in preferring a walk with
Mr Elliot.  But the rain was also a mere trifle to Mrs Clay; she would
hardly allow it even to drop at all, and her boots were so thick! much
thicker than Miss Anne's; and, in short, her civility rendered her
quite as anxious to be left to walk with Mr Elliot as Anne could be,
and it was discussed between them with a generosity so polite and so
determined, that the others were obliged to settle it for them; Miss
Elliot maintaining that Mrs Clay had a little cold already, and Mr
Elliot deciding on appeal, that his cousin Anne's boots were rather the
thickest.

It was fixed accordingly, that Mrs Clay should be of the party in the
carriage; and they had just reached this point, when Anne, as she sat
near the window, descried, most decidedly and distinctly, Captain
Wentworth walking down the street.

Her start was perceptible only to herself; but she instantly felt that
she was the greatest simpleton in the world, the most unaccountable and
absurd!  For a few minutes she saw nothing before her; it was all
confusion.  She was lost, and when she had scolded back her senses, she
found the others still waiting for the carriage, and Mr Elliot (always
obliging) just setting off for Union Street on a commission of Mrs
Clay's.

She now felt a great inclination to go to the outer door; she wanted to
see if it rained.  Why was she to suspect herself of another motive?
Captain Wentworth must be out of sight.  She left her seat, she would
go; one half of her should not be always so much wiser than the other
half, or always suspecting the other of being worse than it was.  She
would see if it rained.  She was sent back, however, in a moment by the
entrance of Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of gentlemen and
ladies, evidently his acquaintance, and whom he must have joined a
little below Milsom Street.  He was more obviously struck and confused
by the sight of her than she had ever observed before; he looked quite
red.  For the first time, since their renewed acquaintance, she felt
that she was betraying the least sensibility of the two.  She had the
advantage of him in the preparation of the last few moments.  All the
overpowering, blinding, bewildering, first effects of strong surprise
were over with her.  Still, however, she had enough to feel!  It was
agitation, pain, pleasure, a something between delight and misery.

He spoke to her, and then turned away.  The character of his manner was
embarrassment.  She could not have called it either cold or friendly,
or anything so certainly as embarrassed.

After a short interval, however, he came towards her, and spoke again.
Mutual enquiries on common subjects passed:  neither of them, probably,
much the wiser for what they heard, and Anne continuing fully sensible
of his being less at ease than formerly.  They had by dint of being so
very much together, got to speak to each other with a considerable
portion of apparent indifference and calmness; but he could not do it
now.  Time had changed him, or Louisa had changed him.  There was
consciousness of some sort or other.  He looked very well, not as if he
had been suffering in health or spirits, and he talked of Uppercross,
of the Musgroves, nay, even of Louisa, and had even a momentary look of
his own arch significance as he named her; but yet it was Captain
Wentworth not comfortable, not easy, not able to feign that he was.

It did not surprise, but it grieved Anne to observe that Elizabeth
would not know him.  She saw that he saw Elizabeth, that Elizabeth saw
him, that there was complete internal recognition on each side; she was
convinced that he was ready to be acknowledged as an acquaintance,
expecting it, and she had the pain of seeing her sister turn away with
unalterable coldness.

Lady Dalrymple's carriage, for which Miss Elliot was growing very
impatient, now drew up; the servant came in to announce it.  It was
beginning to rain again, and altogether there was a delay, and a
bustle, and a talking, which must make all the little crowd in the shop
understand that Lady Dalrymple was calling to convey Miss Elliot.  At
last Miss Elliot and her friend, unattended but by the servant, (for
there was no cousin returned), were walking off; and Captain Wentworth,
watching them, turned again to Anne, and by manner, rather than words,
was offering his services to her.

"I am much obliged to you," was her answer, "but I am not going with
them.  The carriage would not accommodate so many.  I walk:  I prefer
walking."

"But it rains."

"Oh! very little,  Nothing that I regard."

After a moment's pause he said:  "Though I came only yesterday, I have
equipped myself properly for Bath already, you see," (pointing to a new
umbrella); "I wish you would make use of it, if you are determined to
walk; though I think it would be more prudent to let me get you a
chair."

She was very much obliged to him, but declined it all, repeating her
conviction, that the rain would come to nothing at present, and adding,
"I am only waiting for Mr Elliot.  He will be here in a moment, I am
sure."

She had hardly spoken the words when Mr Elliot walked in.  Captain
Wentworth recollected him perfectly.  There was no difference between
him and the man who had stood on the steps at Lyme, admiring Anne as
she passed, except in the air and look and manner of the privileged
relation and friend.  He came in with eagerness, appeared to see and
think only of her, apologised for his stay, was grieved to have kept
her waiting, and anxious to get her away without further loss of time
and before the rain increased; and in another moment they walked off
together, her arm under his, a gentle and embarrassed glance, and a
"Good morning to you!" being all that she had time for, as she passed
away.

As soon as they were out of sight, the ladies of Captain Wentworth's
party began talking of them.

"Mr Elliot does not dislike his cousin, I fancy?"

"Oh! no, that is clear enough.  One can guess what will happen there.
He is always with them; half lives in the family, I believe.  What a
very good-looking man!"

"Yes, and Miss Atkinson, who dined with him once at the Wallises, says
he is the most agreeable man she ever was in company with."

"She is pretty, I think; Anne Elliot; very pretty, when one comes to
look at her.  It is not the fashion to say so, but I confess I admire
her more than her sister."

"Oh! so do I."

"And so do I.  No comparison.  But the men are all wild after Miss
Elliot.  Anne is too delicate for them."

Anne would have been particularly obliged to her cousin, if he would
have walked by her side all the way to Camden Place, without saying a
word.  She had never found it so difficult to listen to him, though
nothing could exceed his solicitude and care, and though his subjects
were principally such as were wont to be always interesting: praise,
warm, just, and discriminating, of Lady Russell, and insinuations
highly rational against Mrs Clay.  But just now she could think only of
Captain Wentworth.  She could not understand his present feelings,
whether he were really suffering much from disappointment or not; and
till that point were settled, she could not be quite herself.

She hoped to be wise and reasonable in time; but alas! alas!  she must
confess to herself that she was not wise yet.

Another circumstance very essential for her to know, was how long he
meant to be in Bath; he had not mentioned it, or she could not
recollect it.  He might be only passing through.  But it was more
probable that he should be come to stay.  In that case, so liable as
every body was to meet every body in Bath, Lady Russell would in all
likelihood see him somewhere.  Would she recollect him?  How would it
all be?

She had already been obliged to tell Lady Russell that Louisa Musgrove
was to marry Captain Benwick.  It had cost her something to encounter
Lady Russell's surprise; and now, if she were by any chance to be
thrown into company with Captain Wentworth, her imperfect knowledge of
the matter might add another shade of prejudice against him.

The following morning Anne was out with her friend, and for the first
hour, in an incessant and fearful sort of watch for him in vain; but at
last, in returning down Pulteney Street, she distinguished him on the
right hand pavement at such a distance as to have him in view the
greater part of the street.  There were many other men about him, many
groups walking the same way, but there was no mistaking him.  She
looked instinctively at Lady Russell; but not from any mad idea of her
recognising him so soon as she did herself.  No, it was not to be
supposed that Lady Russell would perceive him till they were nearly
opposite.  She looked at her however, from time to time, anxiously; and
when the moment approached which must point him out, though not daring
to look again (for her own countenance she knew was unfit to be seen),
she was yet perfectly conscious of Lady Russell's eyes being turned
exactly in the direction for him--of her being, in short, intently
observing him.  She could thoroughly comprehend the sort of fascination
he must possess over Lady Russell's mind, the difficulty it must be for
her to withdraw her eyes, the astonishment she must be feeling that
eight or nine years should have passed over him, and in foreign climes
and in active service too, without robbing him of one personal grace!

At last, Lady Russell drew back her head.  "Now, how would she speak of
him?"

"You will wonder," said she, "what has been fixing my eye so long; but
I was looking after some window-curtains, which Lady Alicia and Mrs
Frankland were telling me of last night.  They described the
drawing-room window-curtains of one of the houses on this side of the
way, and this part of the street, as being the handsomest and best hung
of any in Bath, but could not recollect the exact number, and I have
been trying to find out which it could be; but I confess I can see no
curtains hereabouts that answer their description."

Anne sighed and blushed and smiled, in pity and disdain, either at her
friend or herself.  The part which provoked her most, was that in all
this waste of foresight and caution, she should have lost the right
moment for seeing whether he saw them.

A day or two passed without producing anything.  The theatre or the
rooms, where he was most likely to be, were not fashionable enough for
the Elliots, whose evening amusements were solely in the elegant
stupidity of private parties, in which they were getting more and more
engaged; and Anne, wearied of such a state of stagnation, sick of
knowing nothing, and fancying herself stronger because her strength was
not tried, was quite impatient for the concert evening.  It was a
concert for the benefit of a person patronised by Lady Dalrymple.  Of
course they must attend.  It was really expected to be a good one, and
Captain Wentworth was very fond of music.  If she could only have a few
minutes conversation with him again, she fancied she should be
satisfied; and as to the power of addressing him, she felt all over
courage if the opportunity occurred.  Elizabeth had turned from him,
Lady Russell overlooked him; her nerves were strengthened by these
circumstances; she felt that she owed him attention.

She had once partly promised Mrs Smith to spend the evening with her;
but in a short hurried call she excused herself and put it off, with
the more decided promise of a longer visit on the morrow.  Mrs Smith
gave a most good-humoured acquiescence.

"By all means," said she; "only tell me all about it, when you do come.
Who is your party?"

Anne named them all.  Mrs Smith made no reply; but when she was leaving
her said, and with an expression half serious, half arch, "Well, I
heartily wish your concert may answer; and do not fail me to-morrow if
you can come; for I begin to have a foreboding that I may not have many
more visits from you."

Anne was startled and confused; but after standing in a moment's
suspense, was obliged, and not sorry to be obliged, to hurry away.




Sir Walter, his two daughters, and Mrs Clay, were the earliest of all
their party at the rooms in the evening; and as Lady Dalrymple must be
waited for, they took their station by one of the fires in the Octagon
Room.  But hardly were they so settled, when the door opened again, and
Captain Wentworth walked in alone.  Anne was the nearest to him, and
making yet a little advance, she instantly spoke.  He was preparing
only to bow and pass on, but her gentle "How do you do?" brought him
out of the straight line to stand near her, and make enquiries in
return, in spite of the formidable father and sister in the back
ground.  Their being in the back ground was a support to Anne; she knew
nothing of their looks, and felt equal to everything which she believed
right to be done.

While they were speaking, a whispering between her father and Elizabeth
caught her ear.  She could not distinguish, but she must guess the
subject; and on Captain Wentworth's making a distant bow, she
comprehended that her father had judged so well as to give him that
simple acknowledgement of acquaintance, and she was just in time by a
side glance to see a slight curtsey from Elizabeth herself.  This,
though late, and reluctant, and ungracious, was yet better than
nothing, and her spirits improved.

After talking, however, of the weather, and Bath, and the concert,
their conversation began to flag, and so little was said at last, that
she was expecting him to go every moment, but he did not; he seemed in
no hurry to leave her; and presently with renewed spirit, with a little
smile, a little glow, he said--

"I have hardly seen you since our day at Lyme.  I am afraid you must
have suffered from the shock, and the more from its not overpowering
you at the time."

She assured him that she had not.

"It was a frightful hour," said he, "a frightful day!" and he passed
his hand across his eyes, as if the remembrance were still too painful,
but in a moment, half smiling again, added, "The day has produced some
effects however; has had some consequences which must be considered as
the very reverse of frightful.  When you had the presence of mind to
suggest that Benwick would be the properest person to fetch a surgeon,
you could have little idea of his being eventually one of those most
concerned in her recovery."

"Certainly I could have none.  But it appears--I should hope it would
be a very happy match.  There are on both sides good principles and
good temper."

"Yes," said he, looking not exactly forward; "but there, I think, ends
the resemblance.  With all my soul I wish them happy, and rejoice over
every circumstance in favour of it.  They have no difficulties to
contend with at home, no opposition, no caprice, no delays.  The
Musgroves are behaving like themselves, most honourably and kindly,
only anxious with true parental hearts to promote their daughter's
comfort.  All this is much, very much in favour of their happiness;
more than perhaps--"

He stopped.  A sudden recollection seemed to occur, and to give him
some taste of that emotion which was reddening Anne's cheeks and fixing
her eyes on the ground.  After clearing his throat, however, he
proceeded thus--

"I confess that I do think there is a disparity, too great a disparity,
and in a point no less essential than mind.  I regard Louisa Musgrove
as a very amiable, sweet-tempered girl, and not deficient in
understanding, but Benwick is something more.  He is a clever man, a
reading man; and I confess, that I do consider his attaching himself to
her with some surprise.  Had it been the effect of gratitude, had he
learnt to love her, because he believed her to be preferring him, it
would have been another thing.  But I have no reason to suppose it so.
It seems, on the contrary, to have been a perfectly spontaneous,
untaught feeling on his side, and this surprises me.  A man like him,
in his situation! with a heart pierced, wounded, almost broken!  Fanny
Harville was a very superior creature, and his attachment to her was
indeed attachment.  A man does not recover from such a devotion of the
heart to such a woman.  He ought not; he does not."

Either from the consciousness, however, that his friend had recovered,
or from other consciousness, he went no farther; and Anne who, in spite
of the agitated voice in which the latter part had been uttered, and in
spite of all the various noises of the room, the almost ceaseless slam
of the door, and ceaseless buzz of persons walking through, had
distinguished every word, was struck, gratified, confused, and
beginning to breathe very quick, and feel an hundred things in a
moment.  It was impossible for her to enter on such a subject; and yet,
after a pause, feeling the necessity of speaking, and having not the
smallest wish for a total change, she only deviated so far as to say--

"You were a good while at Lyme, I think?"

"About a fortnight.  I could not leave it till Louisa's doing well was
quite ascertained.  I had been too deeply concerned in the mischief to
be soon at peace.  It had been my doing, solely mine.  She would not
have been obstinate if I had not been weak.  The country round Lyme is
very fine.  I walked and rode a great deal; and the more I saw, the
more I found to admire."

"I should very much like to see Lyme again," said Anne.

"Indeed!  I should not have supposed that you could have found anything
in Lyme to inspire such a feeling.  The horror and distress you were
involved in, the stretch of mind, the wear of spirits!  I should have
thought your last impressions of Lyme must have been strong disgust."

"The last hours were certainly very painful," replied Anne; "but when
pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.  One does
not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been
all suffering, nothing but suffering, which was by no means the case at
Lyme.  We were only in anxiety and distress during the last two hours,
and previously there had been a great deal of enjoyment.  So much
novelty and beauty! I have travelled so little, that every fresh place
would be interesting to me; but there is real beauty at Lyme; and in
short" (with a faint blush at some recollections), "altogether my
impressions of the place are very agreeable."

As she ceased, the entrance door opened again, and the very party
appeared for whom they were waiting.  "Lady Dalrymple, Lady Dalrymple,"
was the rejoicing sound; and with all the eagerness compatible with
anxious elegance, Sir Walter and his two ladies stepped forward to meet
her.  Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, escorted by Mr Elliot and
Colonel Wallis, who had happened to arrive nearly at the same instant,
advanced into the room.  The others joined them, and it was a group in
which Anne found herself also necessarily included.  She was divided
from Captain Wentworth.  Their interesting, almost too interesting
conversation must be broken up for a time, but slight was the penance
compared with the happiness which brought it on!  She had learnt, in
the last ten minutes, more of his feelings towards Louisa, more of all
his feelings than she dared to think of; and she gave herself up to the
demands of the party, to the needful civilities of the moment, with
exquisite, though agitated sensations.  She was in good humour with
all.  She had received ideas which disposed her to be courteous and
kind to all, and to pity every one, as being less happy than herself.

The delightful emotions were a little subdued, when on stepping back
from the group, to be joined again by Captain Wentworth, she saw that
he was gone.  She was just in time to see him turn into the Concert
Room.  He was gone; he had disappeared, she felt a moment's regret.
But "they should meet again.  He would look for her, he would find her
out before the evening were over, and at present, perhaps, it was as
well to be asunder.  She was in need of a little interval for
recollection."

Upon Lady Russell's appearance soon afterwards, the whole party was
collected, and all that remained was to marshal themselves, and proceed
into the Concert Room; and be of all the consequence in their power,
draw as many eyes, excite as many whispers, and disturb as many people
as they could.

Very, very happy were both Elizabeth and Anne Elliot as they walked in.
Elizabeth arm in arm with Miss Carteret, and looking on the broad back
of the dowager Viscountess Dalrymple before her, had nothing to wish
for which did not seem within her reach; and Anne--but it would be an
insult to the nature of Anne's felicity, to draw any comparison between
it and her sister's; the origin of one all selfish vanity, of the other
all generous attachment.

Anne saw nothing, thought nothing of the brilliancy of the room.  Her
happiness was from within.  Her eyes were bright and her cheeks glowed;
but she knew nothing about it.  She was thinking only of the last half
hour, and as they passed to their seats, her mind took a hasty range
over it.  His choice of subjects, his expressions, and still more his
manner and look, had been such as she could see in only one light.  His
opinion of Louisa Musgrove's inferiority, an opinion which he had
seemed solicitous to give, his wonder at Captain Benwick, his feelings
as to a first, strong attachment; sentences begun which he could not
finish, his half averted eyes and more than half expressive glance,
all, all declared that he had a heart returning to her at least; that
anger, resentment, avoidance, were no more; and that they were
succeeded, not merely by friendship and regard, but by the tenderness
of the past.  Yes, some share of the tenderness of the past.  She could
not contemplate the change as implying less.  He must love her.

These were thoughts, with their attendant visions, which occupied and
flurried her too much to leave her any power of observation; and she
passed along the room without having a glimpse of him, without even
trying to discern him.  When their places were determined on, and they
were all properly arranged, she looked round to see if he should happen
to be in the same part of the room, but he was not; her eye could not
reach him; and the concert being just opening, she must consent for a
time to be happy in a humbler way.

The party was divided and disposed of on two contiguous benches: Anne
was among those on the foremost, and Mr Elliot had manoeuvred so well,
with the assistance of his friend Colonel Wallis, as to have a seat by
her.  Miss Elliot, surrounded by her cousins, and the principal object
of Colonel Wallis's gallantry, was quite contented.

Anne's mind was in a most favourable state for the entertainment of the
evening; it was just occupation enough:  she had feelings for the
tender, spirits for the gay, attention for the scientific, and patience
for the wearisome; and had never liked a concert better, at least
during the first act.  Towards the close of it, in the interval
succeeding an Italian song, she explained the words of the song to Mr
Elliot.  They had a concert bill between them.

"This," said she, "is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the
words, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be
talked of, but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not
pretend to understand the language.  I am a very poor Italian scholar."

"Yes, yes, I see you are.  I see you know nothing of the matter.  You
have only knowledge enough of the language to translate at sight these
inverted, transposed, curtailed Italian lines, into clear,
comprehensible, elegant English.  You need not say anything more of
your ignorance.  Here is complete proof."

"I will not oppose such kind politeness; but I should be sorry to be
examined by a real proficient."

"I have not had the pleasure of visiting in Camden Place so long,"
replied he, "without knowing something of Miss Anne Elliot; and I do
regard her as one who is too modest for the world in general to be
aware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for
modesty to be natural in any other woman."

"For shame! for shame! this is too much flattery.  I forget what we are
to have next," turning to the bill.

"Perhaps," said Mr Elliot, speaking low, "I have had a longer
acquaintance with your character than you are aware of."

"Indeed!  How so?  You can have been acquainted with it only since I
came to Bath, excepting as you might hear me previously spoken of in my
own family."

"I knew you by report long before you came to Bath.  I had heard you
described by those who knew you intimately.  I have been acquainted
with you by character many years.  Your person, your disposition,
accomplishments, manner; they were all present to me."

Mr Elliot was not disappointed in the interest he hoped to raise.  No
one can withstand the charm of such a mystery.  To have been described
long ago to a recent acquaintance, by nameless people, is irresistible;
and Anne was all curiosity.  She wondered, and questioned him eagerly;
but in vain.  He delighted in being asked, but he would not tell.

"No, no, some time or other, perhaps, but not now.  He would mention no
names now; but such, he could assure her, had been the fact.  He had
many years ago received such a description of Miss Anne Elliot as had
inspired him with the highest idea of her merit, and excited the
warmest curiosity to know her."

Anne could think of no one so likely to have spoken with partiality of
her many years ago as the Mr Wentworth of Monkford, Captain Wentworth's
brother.  He might have been in Mr Elliot's company, but she had not
courage to ask the question.

"The name of Anne Elliot," said he, "has long had an interesting sound
to me.  Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I
dared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change."

Such, she believed, were his words; but scarcely had she received their
sound, than her attention was caught by other sounds immediately behind
her, which rendered every thing else trivial.  Her father and Lady
Dalrymple were speaking.

"A well-looking man," said Sir Walter, "a very well-looking man."

"A very fine young man indeed!" said Lady Dalrymple.  "More air than
one often sees in Bath.  Irish, I dare say."

"No, I just know his name.  A bowing acquaintance.  Wentworth; Captain
Wentworth of the navy.  His sister married my tenant in Somersetshire,
the Croft, who rents Kellynch."

Before Sir Walter had reached this point, Anne's eyes had caught the
right direction, and distinguished Captain Wentworth standing among a
cluster of men at a little distance.  As her eyes fell on him, his
seemed to be withdrawn from her.  It had that appearance.  It seemed as
if she had been one moment too late; and as long as she dared observe,
he did not look again:  but the performance was recommencing, and she
was forced to seem to restore her attention to the orchestra and look
straight forward.

When she could give another glance, he had moved away.  He could not
have come nearer to her if he would; she was so surrounded and shut in:
but she would rather have caught his eye.

Mr Elliot's speech, too, distressed her.  She had no longer any
inclination to talk to him.  She wished him not so near her.

The first act was over.  Now she hoped for some beneficial change; and,
after a period of nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them did
decide on going in quest of tea.  Anne was one of the few who did not
choose to move.  She remained in her seat, and so did Lady Russell; but
she had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr Elliot; and she did not mean,
whatever she might feel on Lady Russell's account, to shrink from
conversation with Captain Wentworth, if he gave her the opportunity.
She was persuaded by Lady Russell's countenance that she had seen him.

He did not come however.  Anne sometimes fancied she discerned him at a
distance, but he never came.  The anxious interval wore away
unproductively.  The others returned, the room filled again, benches
were reclaimed and repossessed, and another hour of pleasure or of
penance was to be sat out, another hour of music was to give delight or
the gapes, as real or affected taste for it prevailed.  To Anne, it
chiefly wore the prospect of an hour of agitation.  She could not quit
that room in peace without seeing Captain Wentworth once more, without
the interchange of one friendly look.

In re-settling themselves there were now many changes, the result of
which was favourable for her.  Colonel Wallis declined sitting down
again, and Mr Elliot was invited by Elizabeth and Miss Carteret, in a
manner not to be refused, to sit between them; and by some other
removals, and a little scheming of her own,  Anne was enabled to place
herself much nearer the end of the bench than she had been before, much
more within reach of a passer-by.  She could not do so, without
comparing herself with Miss Larolles, the inimitable Miss Larolles; but
still she did it, and not with much happier effect; though by what
seemed prosperity in the shape of an early abdication in her next
neighbours, she found herself at the very end of the bench before the
concert closed.

Such was her situation, with a vacant space at hand, when Captain
Wentworth was again in sight.  She saw him not far off.  He saw her
too; yet he looked grave, and seemed irresolute, and only by very slow
degrees came at last near enough to speak to her.  She felt that
something must be the matter.  The change was indubitable.  The
difference between his present air and what it had been in the Octagon
Room was strikingly great.  Why was it?  She thought of her father, of
Lady Russell.  Could there have been any unpleasant glances?  He began
by speaking of the concert gravely, more like the Captain Wentworth of
Uppercross; owned himself disappointed, had expected singing; and in
short, must confess that he should not be sorry when it was over.  Anne
replied, and spoke in defence of the performance so well, and yet in
allowance for his feelings so pleasantly, that his countenance
improved, and he replied again with almost a smile.  They talked for a
few minutes more; the improvement held; he even looked down towards the
bench, as if he saw a place on it well worth occupying; when at that
moment a touch on her shoulder obliged Anne to turn round.  It came
from Mr Elliot.  He begged her pardon, but she must be applied to, to
explain Italian again.  Miss Carteret was very anxious to have a
general idea of what was next to be sung.  Anne could not refuse; but
never had she sacrificed to politeness with a more suffering spirit.

A few minutes, though as few as possible, were inevitably consumed; and
when her own mistress again, when able to turn and look as she had done
before, she found herself accosted by Captain Wentworth, in a reserved
yet hurried sort of farewell.  "He must wish her good night; he was
going; he should get home as fast as he could."

"Is not this song worth staying for?" said Anne, suddenly struck by an
idea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging.

"No!" he replied impressively, "there is nothing worth my staying for;"
and he was gone directly.

Jealousy of Mr Elliot!  It was the only intelligible motive.  Captain
Wentworth jealous of her affection!  Could she have believed it a week
ago; three hours ago!  For a moment the gratification was exquisite.
But, alas! there were very different thoughts to succeed.  How was such
jealousy to be quieted?  How was the truth to reach him?  How, in all
the peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations, would he
ever learn of her real sentiments?  It was misery to think of Mr
Elliot's attentions.  Their evil was incalculable.




Anne recollected with pleasure the next morning her promise of going to
Mrs Smith, meaning that it should engage her from home at the time when
Mr Elliot would be most likely to call; for to avoid Mr Elliot was
almost a first object.

She felt a great deal of good-will towards him.  In spite of the
mischief of his attentions, she owed him gratitude and regard, perhaps
compassion.  She could not help thinking much of the extraordinary
circumstances attending their acquaintance, of the right which he
seemed to have to interest her, by everything in situation, by his own
sentiments, by his early prepossession.  It was altogether very
extraordinary; flattering, but painful.  There was much to regret.  How
she might have felt had there been no Captain Wentworth in the case,
was not worth enquiry; for there was a Captain Wentworth; and be the
conclusion of the present suspense good or bad, her affection would be
his for ever.  Their union, she believed, could not divide her more
from other men, than their final separation.

Prettier musings of high-wrought love and eternal constancy, could
never have passed along the streets of Bath, than Anne was sporting
with from Camden Place to Westgate Buildings.  It was almost enough to
spread purification and perfume all the way.

She was sure of a pleasant reception; and her friend seemed this
morning particularly obliged to her for coming, seemed hardly to have
expected her, though it had been an appointment.

An account of the concert was immediately claimed; and Anne's
recollections of the concert were quite happy enough to animate her
features and make her rejoice to talk of it.  All that she could tell
she told most gladly, but the all was little for one who had been
there, and unsatisfactory for such an enquirer as Mrs Smith, who had
already heard, through the short cut of a laundress and a waiter,
rather more of the general success and produce of the evening than Anne
could relate, and who now asked in vain for several particulars of the
company.  Everybody of any consequence or notoriety in Bath was well
know by name to Mrs Smith.

"The little Durands were there, I conclude," said she, "with their
mouths open to catch the music, like unfledged sparrows ready to be
fed.  They never miss a concert."

"Yes; I did not see them myself, but I heard Mr Elliot say they were in
the room."

"The Ibbotsons, were they there? and the two new beauties, with the
tall Irish officer, who is talked of for one of them."

"I do not know.  I do not think they were."

"Old Lady Mary Maclean?  I need not ask after her.  She never misses, I
know; and you must have seen her.  She must have been in your own
circle; for as you went with Lady Dalrymple, you were in the seats of
grandeur, round the orchestra, of course."

"No, that was what I dreaded.  It would have been very unpleasant to me
in every respect.  But happily Lady Dalrymple always chooses to be
farther off; and we were exceedingly well placed, that is, for hearing;
I must not say for seeing, because I appear to have seen very little."

"Oh! you saw enough for your own amusement.  I can understand.  There
is a sort of domestic enjoyment to be known even in a crowd, and this
you had.  You were a large party in yourselves, and you wanted nothing
beyond."

"But I ought to have looked about me more," said Anne, conscious while
she spoke that there had in fact been no want of looking about, that
the object only had been deficient.

"No, no; you were better employed.  You need not tell me that you had a
pleasant evening.  I see it in your eye.  I perfectly see how the hours
passed:  that you had always something agreeable to listen to.  In the
intervals of the concert it was conversation."

Anne half smiled and said, "Do you see that in my eye?"

"Yes, I do.  Your countenance perfectly informs me that you were in
company last night with the person whom you think the most agreeable in
the world, the person who interests you at this present time more than
all the rest of the world put together."

A blush overspread Anne's cheeks.  She could say nothing.

"And such being the case," continued Mrs Smith, after a short pause, "I
hope you believe that I do know how to value your kindness in coming to
me this morning.  It is really very good of you to come and sit with
me, when you must have so many pleasanter demands upon your time."

Anne heard nothing of this.  She was still in the astonishment and
confusion excited by her friend's penetration, unable to imagine how
any report of Captain Wentworth could have reached her.  After another
short silence--

"Pray," said Mrs Smith, "is Mr Elliot aware of your acquaintance with
me?  Does he know that I am in Bath?"

"Mr Elliot!" repeated Anne, looking up surprised.  A moment's
reflection shewed her the mistake she had been under.  She caught it
instantaneously; and recovering her courage with the feeling of safety,
soon added, more composedly, "Are you acquainted with Mr Elliot?"

"I have been a good deal acquainted with him," replied Mrs Smith,
gravely, "but it seems worn out now.  It is a great while since we met."

"I was not at all aware of this.  You never mentioned it before.  Had I
known it, I would have had the pleasure of talking to him about you."

"To confess the truth," said Mrs Smith, assuming her usual air of
cheerfulness, "that is exactly the pleasure I want you to have.  I want
you to talk about me to Mr Elliot.  I want your interest with him.  He
can be of essential service to me; and if you would have the goodness,
my dear Miss Elliot, to make it an object to yourself, of course it is
done."

"I should be extremely happy; I hope you cannot doubt my willingness to
be of even the slightest use to you," replied Anne; "but I suspect that
you are considering me as having a higher claim on Mr Elliot, a greater
right to influence him, than is really the case.  I am sure you have,
somehow or other, imbibed such a notion.  You must consider me only as
Mr Elliot's relation.  If in that light there is anything which you
suppose his cousin might fairly ask of him, I beg you would not
hesitate to employ me."

Mrs Smith gave her a penetrating glance, and then, smiling, said--

"I have been a little premature, I perceive; I beg your pardon.  I
ought to have waited for official information.  But now, my dear Miss
Elliot, as an old friend, do give me a hint as to when I may speak.
Next week?  To be sure by next week I may be allowed to think it all
settled, and build my own selfish schemes on Mr Elliot's good fortune."

"No," replied Anne, "nor next week, nor next, nor next.  I assure you
that nothing of the sort you are thinking of will be settled any week.
I am not going to marry Mr Elliot.  I should like to know why you
imagine I am?"

Mrs Smith looked at her again, looked earnestly, smiled, shook her
head, and exclaimed--

"Now, how I do wish I understood you!  How I do wish I knew what you
were at!  I have a great idea that you do not design to be cruel, when
the right moment occurs.  Till it does come, you know, we women never
mean to have anybody.  It is a thing of course among us, that every man
is refused, till he offers.  But why should you be cruel?  Let me plead
for my--present friend I cannot call him, but for my former friend.
Where can you look for a more suitable match?  Where could you expect a
more gentlemanlike, agreeable man?  Let me recommend Mr Elliot.  I am
sure you hear nothing but good of him from Colonel Wallis; and who can
know him better than Colonel Wallis?"

"My dear Mrs Smith, Mr Elliot's wife has not been dead much above half
a year.  He ought not to be supposed to be paying his addresses to any
one."

"Oh! if these are your only objections," cried Mrs Smith, archly, "Mr
Elliot is safe, and I shall give myself no more trouble about him.  Do
not forget me when you are married, that's all.  Let him know me to be
a friend of yours, and then he will think little of the trouble
required, which it is very natural for him now, with so many affairs
and engagements of his own, to avoid and get rid of as he can; very
natural, perhaps.  Ninety-nine out of a hundred would do the same.  Of
course, he cannot be aware of the importance to me.  Well, my dear Miss
Elliot, I hope and trust you will be very happy.  Mr Elliot has sense
to understand the value of such a woman.  Your peace will not be
shipwrecked as mine has been.  You are safe in all worldly matters, and
safe in his character.  He will not be led astray; he will not be
misled by others to his ruin."

"No," said Anne, "I can readily believe all that of my cousin.  He
seems to have a calm decided temper, not at all open to dangerous
impressions.  I consider him with great respect.  I have no reason,
from any thing that has fallen within my observation, to do otherwise.
But I have not known him long; and he is not a man, I think, to be
known intimately soon.  Will not this manner of speaking of him, Mrs
Smith, convince you that he is nothing to me?  Surely this must be calm
enough.  And, upon my word, he is nothing to me.  Should he ever
propose to me (which I have very little reason to imagine he has any
thought of doing), I shall not accept him.  I assure you I shall not.
I assure you, Mr Elliot had not the share which you have been
supposing, in whatever pleasure the concert of last night might afford:
not Mr Elliot; it is not Mr Elliot that--"

She stopped, regretting with a deep blush that she had implied so much;
but less would hardly have been sufficient.  Mrs Smith would hardly
have believed so soon in Mr Elliot's failure, but from the perception
of there being a somebody else.  As it was, she instantly submitted,
and with all the semblance of seeing nothing beyond; and Anne, eager to
escape farther notice, was impatient to know why Mrs Smith should have
fancied she was to marry Mr Elliot; where she could have received the
idea, or from whom she could have heard it.

"Do tell me how it first came into your head."

"It first came into my head," replied Mrs Smith, "upon finding how much
you were together, and feeling it to be the most probable thing in the
world to be wished for by everybody belonging to either of you; and you
may depend upon it that all your acquaintance have disposed of you in
the same way.  But I never heard it spoken of till two days ago."

"And has it indeed been spoken of?"

"Did you observe the woman who opened the door to you when you called
yesterday?"

"No.  Was not it Mrs Speed, as usual, or the maid?  I observed no one
in particular."

"It was my friend Mrs Rooke; Nurse Rooke; who, by-the-bye, had a great
curiosity to see you, and was delighted to be in the way to let you in.
She came away from Marlborough Buildings only on Sunday; and she it was
who told me you were to marry Mr Elliot.  She had had it from Mrs
Wallis herself, which did not seem bad authority.  She sat an hour with
me on Monday evening, and gave me the whole history." "The whole
history," repeated Anne, laughing.  "She could not make a very long
history, I think, of one such little article of unfounded news."

Mrs Smith said nothing.

"But," continued Anne, presently, "though there is no truth in my
having this claim on Mr Elliot, I should be extremely happy to be of
use to you in any way that I could.  Shall I mention to him your being
in Bath?  Shall I take any message?"

"No, I thank you:  no, certainly not.  In the warmth of the moment, and
under a mistaken impression, I might, perhaps, have endeavoured to
interest you in some circumstances; but not now.  No, I thank you, I
have nothing to trouble you with."

"I think you spoke of having known Mr Elliot many years?"

"I did."

"Not before he was married, I suppose?"

"Yes; he was not married when I knew him first."

"And--were you much acquainted?"

"Intimately."

"Indeed!  Then do tell me what he was at that time of life.  I have a
great curiosity to know what Mr Elliot was as a very young man.  Was he
at all such as he appears now?"

"I have not seen Mr Elliot these three years," was Mrs Smith's answer,
given so gravely that it was impossible to pursue the subject farther;
and Anne felt that she had gained nothing but an increase of curiosity.
They were both silent:  Mrs Smith very thoughtful.  At last--

"I beg your pardon, my dear Miss Elliot," she cried, in her natural
tone of cordiality, "I beg your pardon for the short answers I have
been giving you, but I have been uncertain what I ought to do.  I have
been doubting and considering as to what I ought to tell you.  There
were many things to be taken into the account.  One hates to be
officious, to be giving bad impressions, making mischief.  Even the
smooth surface of family-union seems worth preserving, though there may
be nothing durable beneath.  However, I have determined; I think I am
right; I think you ought to be made acquainted with Mr Elliot's real
character.  Though I fully believe that, at present, you have not the
smallest intention of accepting him, there is no saying what may
happen.  You might, some time or other, be differently affected towards
him.  Hear the truth, therefore, now, while you are unprejudiced.  Mr
Elliot is a man without heart or conscience; a designing, wary,
cold-blooded being, who thinks only of himself; whom for his own
interest or ease, would be guilty of any cruelty, or any treachery,
that could be perpetrated without risk of his general character.  He
has no feeling for others.  Those whom he has been the chief cause of
leading into ruin, he can neglect and desert without the smallest
compunction.  He is totally beyond the reach of any sentiment of
justice or compassion.  Oh! he is black at heart, hollow and black!"

Anne's astonished air, and exclamation of wonder, made her pause, and
in a calmer manner, she added,

"My expressions startle you.  You must allow for an injured, angry
woman.  But I will try to command myself.  I will not abuse him.  I
will only tell you what I have found him.  Facts shall speak.  He was
the intimate friend of my dear husband, who trusted and loved him, and
thought him as good as himself.  The intimacy had been formed before
our marriage.  I found them most intimate friends; and I, too, became
excessively pleased with Mr Elliot, and entertained the highest opinion
of him.  At nineteen, you know, one does not think very seriously; but
Mr Elliot appeared to me quite as good as others, and much more
agreeable than most others, and we were almost always together.  We
were principally in town, living in very good style.  He was then the
inferior in circumstances; he was then the poor one; he had chambers in
the Temple, and it was as much as he could do to support the appearance
of a gentleman.  He had always a home with us whenever he chose it; he
was always welcome; he was like a brother.  My poor Charles, who had
the finest, most generous spirit in the world, would have divided his
last farthing with him; and I know that his purse was open to him; I
know that he often assisted him."

"This must have been about that very period of Mr Elliot's life," said
Anne, "which has always excited my particular curiosity.  It must have
been about the same time that he became known to my father and sister.
I never knew him myself; I only heard of him; but there was a something
in his conduct then, with regard to my father and sister, and
afterwards in the circumstances of his marriage, which I never could
quite reconcile with present times.  It seemed to announce a different
sort of man."

"I know it all, I know it all," cried Mrs Smith.  "He had been
introduced to Sir Walter and your sister before I was acquainted with
him, but I heard him speak of them for ever.  I know he was invited and
encouraged, and I know he did not choose to go.  I can satisfy you,
perhaps, on points which you would little expect; and as to his
marriage, I knew all about it at the time.  I was privy to all the fors
and againsts; I was the friend to whom he confided his hopes and plans;
and though I did not know his wife previously, her inferior situation
in society, indeed, rendered that impossible, yet I knew her all her
life afterwards, or at least till within the last two years of her
life, and can answer any question you may wish to put."

"Nay," said Anne, "I have no particular enquiry to make about her.  I
have always understood they were not a happy couple.  But I should like
to know why, at that time of his life, he should slight my father's
acquaintance as he did.  My father was certainly disposed to take very
kind and proper notice of him.  Why did Mr Elliot draw back?"

"Mr Elliot," replied Mrs Smith, "at that period of his life, had one
object in view:  to make his fortune, and by a rather quicker process
than the law.  He was determined to make it by marriage.  He was
determined, at least, not to mar it by an imprudent marriage; and I
know it was his belief (whether justly or not, of course I cannot
decide), that your father and sister, in their civilities and
invitations, were designing a match between the heir and the young
lady, and it was impossible that such a match should have answered his
ideas of wealth and independence.  That was his motive for drawing
back, I can assure you.  He told me the whole story.  He had no
concealments with me.  It was curious, that having just left you behind
me in Bath, my first and principal acquaintance on marrying should be
your cousin; and that, through him, I should be continually hearing of
your father and sister.  He described one Miss Elliot, and I thought
very affectionately of the other."

"Perhaps," cried Anne, struck by a sudden idea, "you sometimes spoke of
me to Mr Elliot?"

"To be sure I did; very often.  I used to boast of my own Anne Elliot,
and vouch for your being a very different creature from--"

She checked herself just in time.

"This accounts for something which Mr Elliot said last night," cried
Anne.  "This explains it.  I found he had been used to hear of me.  I
could not comprehend how.  What wild imaginations one forms where dear
self is concerned!  How sure to be mistaken!  But I beg your pardon; I
have interrupted you.  Mr Elliot married then completely for money?
The circumstances, probably, which first opened your eyes to his
character."

Mrs Smith hesitated a little here.  "Oh! those things are too common.
When one lives in the world, a man or woman's marrying for money is too
common to strike one as it ought.  I was very young, and associated
only with the young, and we were a thoughtless, gay set, without any
strict rules of conduct.  We lived for enjoyment.  I think differently
now; time and sickness and sorrow have given me other notions; but at
that period I must own I saw nothing reprehensible in what Mr Elliot
was doing.  'To do the best for himself,' passed as a duty."

"But was not she a very low woman?"

"Yes; which I objected to, but he would not regard.  Money, money, was
all that he wanted.  Her father was a grazier, her grandfather had been
a butcher, but that was all nothing.  She was a fine woman, had had a
decent education, was brought forward by some cousins, thrown by chance
into Mr Elliot's company, and fell in love with him; and not a
difficulty or a scruple was there on his side, with respect to her
birth.  All his caution was spent in being secured of the real amount
of her fortune, before he committed himself.  Depend upon it, whatever
esteem Mr Elliot may have for his own situation in life now, as a young
man he had not the smallest value for it.  His chance for the Kellynch
estate was something, but all the honour of the family he held as cheap
as dirt.  I have often heard him declare, that if baronetcies were
saleable, anybody should have his for fifty pounds, arms and motto,
name and livery included; but I will not pretend to repeat half that I
used to hear him say on that subject.  It would not be fair; and yet
you ought to have proof, for what is all this but assertion, and you
shall have proof."

"Indeed, my dear Mrs Smith, I want none," cried Anne.  "You have
asserted nothing contradictory to what Mr Elliot appeared to be some
years ago.  This is all in confirmation, rather, of what we used to
hear and believe.  I am more curious to know why he should be so
different now."

"But for my satisfaction, if you will have the goodness to ring for
Mary; stay:  I am sure you will have the still greater goodness of
going yourself into my bedroom, and bringing me the small inlaid box
which you will find on the upper shelf of the closet."

Anne, seeing her friend to be earnestly bent on it, did as she was
desired.  The box was brought and placed before her, and Mrs Smith,
sighing over it as she unlocked it, said--

"This is full of papers belonging to him, to my husband; a small
portion only of what I had to look over when I lost him.  The letter I
am looking for was one written by Mr Elliot to him before our marriage,
and happened to be saved; why, one can hardly imagine.  But he was
careless and immethodical, like other men, about those things; and when
I came to examine his papers, I found it with others still more
trivial, from different people scattered here and there, while many
letters and memorandums of real importance had been destroyed.  Here it
is; I would not burn it, because being even then very little satisfied
with Mr Elliot, I was determined to preserve every document of former
intimacy.  I have now another motive for being glad that I can produce
it."

This was the letter, directed to "Charles Smith, Esq. Tunbridge Wells,"
and dated from London, as far back as July, 1803:--

"Dear Smith,--I have received yours.  Your kindness almost overpowers
me.  I wish nature had made such hearts as yours more common, but I
have lived three-and-twenty years in the world, and have seen none like
it.  At present, believe me, I have no need of your services, being in
cash again.  Give me joy:  I have got rid of Sir Walter and Miss.  They
are gone back to Kellynch, and almost made me swear to visit them this
summer; but my first visit to Kellynch will be with a surveyor, to tell
me how to bring it with best advantage to the hammer.  The baronet,
nevertheless, is not unlikely to marry again; he is quite fool enough.
If he does, however, they will leave me in peace, which may be a decent
equivalent  for the reversion.  He is worse than last year.

"I wish I had any name but Elliot.  I am sick of it.  The name of
Walter I can drop, thank God! and I desire you will never insult me
with my second W. again, meaning, for the rest of my life, to be only
yours truly,--Wm. Elliot."

Such a letter could not be read without putting Anne in a glow; and Mrs
Smith, observing the high colour in her face, said--

"The language, I know, is highly disrespectful.  Though I have forgot
the exact terms, I have a perfect impression of the general meaning.
But it shows you the man.  Mark his professions to my poor husband.
Can any thing be stronger?"

Anne could not immediately get over the shock and mortification of
finding such words applied to her father.  She was obliged to recollect
that her seeing the letter was a violation of the laws of honour, that
no one ought to be judged or to be known by such testimonies, that no
private correspondence could bear the eye of others, before she could
recover calmness enough to return the letter which she had been
meditating over, and say--

"Thank you.  This is full proof undoubtedly; proof of every thing you
were saying.  But why be acquainted with us now?"

"I can explain this too," cried Mrs Smith, smiling.

"Can you really?"

"Yes.  I have shewn you Mr Elliot as he was a dozen years ago, and I
will shew him as he is now.  I cannot produce written proof again, but
I can give as authentic oral testimony as you can desire, of what he is
now wanting, and what he is now doing.  He is no hypocrite now.  He
truly wants to marry you.  His present attentions to your family are
very sincere:  quite from the heart.  I will give you my authority: his
friend Colonel Wallis."

"Colonel Wallis! you are acquainted with him?"

"No.  It does not come to me in quite so direct a line as that; it
takes a bend or two, but nothing of consequence.  The stream is as good
as at first; the little rubbish it collects in the turnings is easily
moved away.  Mr Elliot talks unreservedly to Colonel Wallis of his
views on you, which said Colonel Wallis, I imagine to be, in himself, a
sensible, careful, discerning sort of character; but Colonel Wallis has
a very pretty silly wife, to whom he tells things which he had better
not, and he repeats it all to her.  She in the overflowing spirits of
her recovery, repeats it all to her nurse; and the nurse  knowing my
acquaintance with you, very naturally brings it all to me.  On Monday
evening, my good friend Mrs Rooke let me thus much into the secrets of
Marlborough Buildings.  When I talked of a whole history, therefore,
you see I was not romancing so much as you supposed."

"My dear Mrs Smith, your authority is deficient.  This will not do.  Mr
Elliot's having any views on me will not in the least account for the
efforts he made towards a reconciliation with my father.  That was all
prior to my coming to Bath.  I found them on the most friendly terms
when I arrived."

"I know you did; I know it all perfectly, but--"

"Indeed, Mrs Smith, we must not expect to get real information in such
a line.  Facts or opinions which are to pass through the hands of so
many, to be misconceived by folly in one, and ignorance in another, can
hardly have much truth left."

"Only give me a hearing.  You will soon be able to judge of the general
credit due, by listening to some particulars which you can yourself
immediately contradict or confirm.  Nobody supposes that you were his
first inducement.  He had seen you indeed, before he came to Bath, and
admired you, but without knowing it to be you.  So says my historian,
at least.  Is this true?  Did he see you last summer or autumn,
'somewhere down in the west,' to use her own words, without knowing it
to be you?"

"He certainly did.  So far it is very true.  At Lyme.  I happened to be
at Lyme."

"Well," continued Mrs Smith, triumphantly, "grant my friend the credit
due to the establishment of the first point asserted.  He saw you then
at Lyme, and liked you so well as to be exceedingly pleased to meet
with you again in Camden Place, as Miss Anne Elliot, and from that
moment, I have no doubt, had a double motive in his visits there.  But
there was another, and an earlier, which I will now explain.  If there
is anything in my story which you know to be either false or
improbable, stop me.  My account states, that your sister's friend, the
lady now staying with you, whom I have heard you mention, came to Bath
with Miss Elliot and Sir Walter as long ago as September (in short when
they first came themselves), and has been staying there ever since;
that she is a clever, insinuating, handsome woman, poor and plausible,
and altogether such in situation and manner, as to give a general idea,
among Sir Walter's acquaintance, of her meaning to be Lady Elliot, and
as general a surprise that Miss Elliot should be apparently, blind to
the danger."

Here Mrs Smith paused a moment; but Anne had not a word to say, and she
continued--

"This was the light in which it appeared to those who knew the family,
long before you returned to it; and Colonel Wallis had his eye upon
your father enough to be sensible of it, though he did not then visit
in Camden Place; but his regard for Mr Elliot gave him an interest in
watching all that was going on there, and when Mr Elliot came to Bath
for a day or two, as he happened to do a little before Christmas,
Colonel Wallis made him acquainted with the appearance of things, and
the reports beginning to prevail.  Now you are to understand, that time
had worked a very material change in Mr Elliot's opinions as to the
value of a baronetcy.  Upon all points of blood and connexion he is a
completely altered man.  Having long had as much money as he could
spend, nothing to wish for on the side of avarice or indulgence, he has
been gradually learning to pin his happiness upon the consequence he is
heir to.  I thought it coming on before our acquaintance ceased, but it
is now a confirmed feeling.  He cannot bear the idea of not being Sir
William.  You may guess, therefore, that the news he heard from his
friend could not be very agreeable, and you may guess what it produced;
the resolution of coming back to Bath as soon as possible, and of
fixing himself here for a time, with the view of renewing his former
acquaintance, and recovering such a footing in the family as might give
him the means of ascertaining the degree of his danger, and of
circumventing the lady if he found it material.  This was agreed upon
between the two friends as the only thing to be done; and Colonel
Wallis was to assist in every way that he could.  He was to be
introduced, and Mrs Wallis was to be introduced, and everybody was to
be introduced.  Mr Elliot came back accordingly; and on application was
forgiven, as you know, and re-admitted into the family; and there it
was his constant object, and his only object (till your arrival added
another motive), to watch Sir Walter and Mrs Clay.  He omitted no
opportunity of being with them, threw himself in their way, called at
all hours; but I need not be particular on this subject.  You can
imagine what an artful man would do; and with this guide, perhaps, may
recollect what you have seen him do."

"Yes," said Anne, "you tell me nothing which does not accord with what
I have known, or could imagine.  There is always something offensive in
the details of cunning.  The manoeuvres of selfishness and duplicity
must ever be revolting, but I have heard nothing which really surprises
me.  I know those who would be shocked by such a representation of Mr
Elliot, who would have difficulty in believing it; but I have never
been satisfied.  I have always wanted some other motive for his conduct
than appeared.  I should like to know his present opinion, as to the
probability of the event he has been in dread of; whether he considers
the danger to be lessening or not."

"Lessening, I understand," replied Mrs Smith.  "He thinks Mrs Clay
afraid of him, aware that he sees through her, and not daring to
proceed as she might do in his absence.  But since he must be absent
some time or other, I do not perceive how he can ever be secure while
she holds her present influence.  Mrs Wallis has an amusing idea, as
nurse tells me, that it is to be put into the marriage articles when
you and Mr Elliot marry, that your father is not to marry Mrs Clay.  A
scheme, worthy of Mrs Wallis's understanding, by all accounts; but my
sensible nurse Rooke sees the absurdity of it.  'Why, to be sure,
ma'am,' said she, 'it would not prevent his marrying anybody else.'
And, indeed, to own the truth, I do not think nurse, in her heart, is a
very strenuous opposer of Sir Walter's making a second match.  She must
be allowed to be a favourer of matrimony, you know; and (since self
will intrude) who can say that she may not have some flying visions of
attending the next Lady Elliot, through Mrs Wallis's recommendation?"

"I am very glad to know all this," said Anne, after a little
thoughtfulness.  "It will be more painful to me in some respects to be
in company with him, but I shall know better what to do.  My line of
conduct will be more direct.  Mr Elliot is evidently a disingenuous,
artificial, worldly man, who has never had any better principle to
guide him than selfishness."

But Mr Elliot was not done with.  Mrs Smith had been carried away from
her first direction, and Anne had forgotten, in the interest of her own
family concerns, how much had been originally implied against him; but
her attention was now called to the explanation of those first hints,
and she listened to a recital which, if it did not perfectly justify
the unqualified bitterness of Mrs Smith, proved him to have been very
unfeeling in his conduct towards her; very deficient both in justice
and compassion.

She learned that (the intimacy between them continuing unimpaired by Mr
Elliot's marriage) they had been as before always together, and Mr
Elliot had led his friend into expenses much beyond his fortune.  Mrs
Smith did not want to take blame to herself, and was most tender of
throwing any on her husband; but Anne could collect that their income
had never been equal to their style of living, and that from the first
there had been a great deal of general and joint extravagance.  From
his wife's account of him she could discern Mr Smith to have been a man
of warm feelings, easy temper, careless habits, and not strong
understanding, much more amiable than his friend, and very unlike him,
led by him, and probably despised by him.  Mr Elliot, raised by his
marriage to great affluence, and disposed to every gratification of
pleasure and vanity which could be commanded without involving himself,
(for with all his self-indulgence he had become a prudent man), and
beginning to be rich, just as his friend ought to have found himself to
be poor, seemed to have had no concern at all for that friend's
probable finances, but, on the contrary, had been prompting and
encouraging expenses which could end only in ruin; and the Smiths
accordingly had been ruined.

The husband had died just in time to be spared the full knowledge of
it.  They had previously known embarrassments enough to try the
friendship of their friends, and to prove that Mr Elliot's had better
not be tried; but it was not till his death that the wretched state of
his affairs was fully known.  With a confidence in Mr Elliot's regard,
more creditable to his feelings than his judgement, Mr Smith had
appointed him the executor of his will; but Mr Elliot would not act,
and the difficulties and distress which this refusal had heaped on her,
in addition to the inevitable sufferings of her situation, had been
such as could not be related without anguish of spirit, or listened to
without corresponding indignation.

Anne was shewn some letters of his on the occasion, answers to urgent
applications from Mrs Smith, which all breathed the same stern
resolution of not engaging in a fruitless trouble, and, under a cold
civility, the same hard-hearted indifference to any of the evils it
might bring on her.  It was a dreadful picture of ingratitude and
inhumanity; and Anne felt, at some moments, that no flagrant open crime
could have been worse.  She had a great deal to listen to; all the
particulars of past sad scenes, all the minutiae of distress upon
distress, which in former conversations had been merely hinted at, were
dwelt on now with a natural indulgence.  Anne could perfectly
comprehend the exquisite relief, and was only the more inclined to
wonder at the composure of her friend's usual state of mind.

There was one circumstance in the history of her grievances of
particular irritation.  She had good reason to believe that some
property of her husband in the West Indies, which had been for many
years under a sort of sequestration for the payment of its own
incumbrances, might be recoverable by proper measures; and this
property, though not large, would be enough to make her comparatively
rich.  But there was nobody to stir in it.  Mr Elliot would do nothing,
and she could do nothing herself, equally disabled from personal
exertion by her state of bodily weakness, and from employing others by
her want of money.  She had no natural connexions to assist her even
with their counsel, and she could not afford to purchase the assistance
of the law.  This was a cruel aggravation of actually straitened means.
To feel that she ought to be in better circumstances, that a little
trouble in the right place might do it, and to fear that delay might be
even weakening her claims, was hard to bear.

It was on this point that she had hoped to engage Anne's good offices
with Mr Elliot.  She had previously, in the anticipation of their
marriage, been very apprehensive of losing her friend by it; but on
being assured that he could have made no attempt of that nature, since
he did not even know her to be in Bath, it immediately occurred, that
something might be done in her favour by the influence of the woman he
loved, and she had been hastily preparing to interest Anne's feelings,
as far as the observances due to Mr Elliot's character would allow,
when Anne's refutation of the supposed engagement changed the face of
everything; and while it took from her the new-formed hope of
succeeding in the object of her first anxiety, left her at least the
comfort of telling the whole story her own way.

After listening to this full description of Mr Elliot, Anne could not
but express some surprise at Mrs Smith's having spoken of him so
favourably in the beginning of their conversation.  "She had seemed to
recommend and praise him!"

"My dear," was Mrs Smith's reply, "there was nothing else to be done.
I considered your marrying him as certain, though he might not yet have
made the offer, and I could no more speak the truth of him, than if he
had been your husband.  My heart bled for you, as I talked of
happiness; and yet he is sensible, he is agreeable, and with such a
woman as you, it was not absolutely hopeless.  He was very unkind to
his first wife.  They were wretched together.  But she was too ignorant
and giddy for respect, and he had never loved her.  I was willing to
hope that you must fare better."

Anne could just acknowledge within herself such a possibility of having
been induced to marry him, as made her shudder at the idea of the
misery which must have followed.  It was just possible that she might
have been persuaded by Lady Russell!  And under such a supposition,
which would have been most miserable, when time had disclosed all, too
late?

It was very desirable that Lady Russell should be no longer deceived;
and one of the concluding arrangements of this important conference,
which carried them through the greater part of the morning, was, that
Anne had full liberty to communicate to her friend everything relative
to Mrs Smith, in which his conduct was involved.

 Even as Admiral Croft and Anne discuss the possibility of Captain Wentworth coming to Bath, the captain is already on his way. One day, Anne happens to be on Milsom Street with Mr. Elliot, Elizabeth, and Mrs. Clay when it begins to rain. Mr. Elliot spots Lady Dalrymple's carriage on the street and requests that she take home the three ladies of Camden Place. Since Miss Carteret is with Lady Dalrymple , it is decided that Anne will walk with Mr. Elliot. While they all await the lady's carriage inside a confectioner's, Captain Wentworth walks in with some acquaintances. After exchanging some vaguely embarrassed words, the captain offers to arrange a carriage for Anne. Anne declines politely, as Mr. Elliot will be walking her home. After Anne and Mr. Elliot leave the confectioner's, the ladies of Captain Wentworth's party speculate as to a potential relationship between the two. But on the way back to Camden Place, all Anne can think about is Captain Wentworth. How long will he be in Bath? Will Lady Russell remember him? What will happen when she sees him? The next morning, Anne and Lady Russell are in their carriage when they pass Captain Wentworth on the street. Anne is so occupied by Lady Russell's gaze -- which turns out to be examining a curtain rather than Captain Wentworth -- that she does not know whether the captain sees them or not. After a few uneventful days, Anne finds herself looking forward to an evening party, where she will most likely see the captain: "If she could only have a few minutes conversation with him again, she fancied she should be satisfied" . In order to be able to attend the party, she cancels a tentative engagement with Mrs. Smith. The Elliots and Mrs. Clay are the first to arrive at the party, followed by Captain Wentworth. Anne engages the captain in conversation almost immediately. After covering everyday topics, the two begin to discuss the events at Lyme and the marriage between Louisa and Captain Benwick. Captain Wentworth expresses his happiness for the couple but also observes "a disparity, too great a disparity" between them. While Louisa is an agreeable and understanding girl, she lacks Captain Benwick's intelligence and sophistication. Equally troubling to Captain Wentworth, perhaps, is the fact that Captain Benwick seems to have recovered from the loss of Fanny Harville. He exclaims: "A man does not recover from such a devotion to the heart to such a woman!--He ought not--he does not" . Perhaps because Captain Benwick's story reminds Anne and Captain Wentworth of their own history, the conversation drifts back to Louisa's accident. Anne remarks that pain can often form, in retrospect, its own form of pleasure. At this point, Lady Dalrymple enters the room with Miss Carteret and Anne is separated from Captain Wentworth. The party soon moves to the concert room, where Elizabeth and Anne both find themselves in a happy situation -- Elizabeth, because she walks arm in arm with Miss Carteret, and Anne, because she realizes that Captain Wentworth must love her after all. In her state of pleasant agitation, Anne takes great pleasure in the entertainment of the evening. During an intermission of the concert, Anne explains the meaning of an Italian song to Mr. Elliot. Anne's knowledge of Italian prompts Mr. Elliot to praise her as both accomplished and modest. He goes on to note that her reputation precedes her: many years ago, he had already been charmed by a description of her by an acquaintance. Could it have been Captain Wentworth's brother, the Edward Wentworth of Monkford? Before Anne has much time to think over Mr. Elliot's words, a different conversation catches her full attention. Immediately behind her, Lady Dalrymple and Sir Walter are discussing Captain Wentworth and his fine looks. Anne then catches the eye of Captain Wentworth, who is standing at a distance among some men. At this point, Anne wishes for nothing more than to leave Mr. Elliot's side and to speak with Captain Wentworth. The captain, however, remains at a distance. When he comes to her at last, Anne finds him much more reserved than before. Although he warms up to her after a few minutes, Mr. Elliot, who asks Anne to translate some Italian for Miss Carteret, soon interrupts their conversation. After Anne finishes the translation, Captain Wentworth wishes her a hurried and reserved goodbye. Anne realizes that the captain must be jealous -- of Mr. Elliot! The next morning, Anne looks forward to visiting Mrs. Smith, particularly as it will most likely allow her to avoid Mr. Elliot. Although his attention flatters her, Anne can think only of Captain Wentworth at present. For the same reason, she cannot satisfy Mrs. Smith's curiosity about various people who attended the concert last night. Mrs. Smith deduces that she must have been in good company. She remarks: "Your countenance perfectly informs me that you were in company last night with the person, whom you think the most agreeable in the world" . But how could Mrs. Smith know about Captain Wentworth? As it turns out, Mrs. Smith is thinking of Mr. Elliot. Based on rumors heard from Mrs. Rooke, Mrs. Smith speculates that Anne and Mr. Elliot are on intimate terms--indeed, that the two will soon marry. When Anne denies any truth in such speculations, Mrs. Smith attempts to convince her that Mr. Elliot is "safe." She declares: "Mr. Elliot has sense to understand such a woman . . . You are safe in worldly matters, and safe in his character" . Her only request is that Anne let her know when they are married, as she has some business with Mr. Elliot. Finally, Anne manages to conveys to Mrs. Smith that there is a man other than Mr. Elliot in her life. This allows Mrs. Smith to speak her true opinion of Mr. Elliot -- that he is "a man without heart or conscience; a designing, wary, cold-blooded being, who. . . for his own interest or ease, would be guilty of any cruelty, or any treachery, that could be perpetrated without risk of his general character" . Mrs. Smith has known Mr. Elliot for a long time, as he was an intimate friend of her late husband Mr. Smith. At the time, Mr. Elliot did not have enough money to live like a proper gentleman. He thus spent a great deal of time with the Smiths, who treated him like a brother and often assisted him financially. When Mr. Elliot made the acquaintance of Sir Walter and Elizabeth, he realized that Sir Walter was "designing a match between the heir and the young lady" . Since he was determined to make his fortune through marriage -- and valued money much more than honor -- he declined invitations to visit Kellynch Hall. He subsequently purchased his independence through marriage to a wealthy woman who fell in love with him. Mrs. Smith's account does not shock Anne per se; she has heard or divined much about Mr. Elliot's past. What does shock her, however, is a letter from Mr. Elliot to Mr. Smith that Mrs. Smith has kept. It speaks of the Sir Walter, Kellynch, and the Elliot name all highly disrespectfully, concluding: I wish I had any name but Elliot. I am sick of it. The name of Walter I can drop, thank God! and I desire you will never insult me with my second W. again, meaning, for the rest of my life, to be only yours truly,Wm. ELLIOT. The letter fully proves Mrs. Smith's account of the past. But why, Anne wonders, does Mr. Elliot wish to make their acquaintance now? According to Mrs. Smith's sources, Mr. Elliot now truly wishes to marry Anne. But this does not account for the fact that Mr. Elliot established himself at Camden Place before Anne's arrival. In fact, his original reason involved not Anne but Mrs. Clay. It had been rumored at Bath that Mrs. Clay meant to become Lady Elliot. It had also been said that "Miss Elliot apparently blind to the danger" . Now, Mr. Elliot, who had already made a sufficient fortune, was no longer indifferent to the title that he presumed to inherit. Should Mrs. Clay become Lady Elliot and bear sons, of course, the title would no longer be his. Mr. Elliot had good reason, then, to reestablish his relationship with the Elliots and watch over Sir Walter. Thus Anne realizes that "Mr. Elliot is evidently a disingenuous, artificial, worldly man, who has never had any better principle to guide him than selfishness" . Mrs. Smith's has further grievances against Mr. Elliot. After Mr. Elliot acquired a fortune through marriage, he led Mr. Smith to spend money beyond his means. By the time Mr. Smith passed away, the Smiths were ruined. To aggravate the situation even further, Mr. Elliot refused to execute the will that was bestowed upon him by Mr. Smith. Reading over some letters from the time, Anne realizes that "it was a dreadful picture of ingratitude and inhumanity; and Anne felt at some moments, that no flagrant open crime could have been worse" . To this day, Mrs. Smith has been unable to recover some property of her husband's in the West Indies that might rescue her from poverty -- all due to Mr. Elliot's inaction. Finally, Anne expresses her surprise at the fact Mrs. Smith seemed to recommend Mr. Elliot initially. Mrs. Smith explains that she did not have the heart to speak the truth. She thought the marriage was certain. Indeed, Anne herself can imagine "that she might have been persuaded by Lady Russell" to marry Mr. Elliot (140! There remains no question that Lady Russell must know the full truth about Mr. Elliot.

