Chapter: A very few days more, and Captain Wentworth was known to be at
Kellynch, and Mr Musgrove had called on him, and come back warm in his
praise, and he was engaged with the Crofts to dine at Uppercross, by
the end of another week.  It had been a great disappointment to Mr
Musgrove to find that no earlier day could be fixed, so impatient was
he to shew his gratitude, by seeing Captain Wentworth under his own
roof, and welcoming him to all that was strongest and best in his
cellars.  But a week must pass; only a week, in Anne's reckoning, and
then, she supposed, they must meet; and soon she began to wish that she
could feel secure even for a week.

Captain Wentworth made a very early return to Mr Musgrove's civility,
and she was all but calling there in the same half hour.  She and Mary
were actually setting forward for the Great House, where, as she
afterwards learnt, they must inevitably have found him, when they were
stopped by the eldest boy's being at that moment brought home in
consequence of a bad fall.  The child's situation put the visit
entirely aside; but she could not hear of her escape with indifference,
even in the midst of the serious anxiety which they afterwards felt on
his account.

His collar-bone was found to be dislocated, and such injury received in
the back, as roused the most alarming ideas.  It was an afternoon of
distress, and Anne had every thing to do at once; the apothecary to
send for, the father to have pursued and informed, the mother to
support and keep from hysterics, the servants to control, the youngest
child to banish, and the poor suffering one to attend and soothe;
besides sending, as soon as she recollected it, proper notice to the
other house, which brought her an accession rather of frightened,
enquiring companions, than of very useful assistants.

Her brother's return was the first comfort; he could take best care of
his wife; and the second blessing was the arrival of the apothecary.
Till he came and had examined the child, their apprehensions were the
worse for being vague; they suspected great injury, but knew not where;
but now the collar-bone was soon replaced, and though Mr Robinson felt
and felt, and rubbed, and looked grave, and spoke low words both to the
father and the aunt, still they were all to hope the best, and to be
able to part and eat their dinner in tolerable ease of mind; and then
it was, just before they parted, that the two young aunts were able so
far to digress from their nephew's state, as to give the information of
Captain Wentworth's visit; staying five minutes behind their father and
mother, to endeavour to express how perfectly delighted they were with
him, how much handsomer, how infinitely more agreeable they thought him
than any individual among their male acquaintance, who had been at all
a favourite before.  How glad they had been to hear papa invite him to
stay dinner, how sorry when he said it was quite out of his power, and
how glad again when he had promised in reply to papa and mamma's
farther pressing invitations to come and dine with them on the
morrow--actually on the morrow; and he had promised it in so pleasant a
manner, as if he felt all the motive of their attention just as he
ought.  And in short, he had looked and said everything with such
exquisite grace, that they could assure them all, their heads were both
turned by him; and off they ran, quite as full of glee as of love, and
apparently more full of Captain Wentworth than of little Charles.

The same story and the same raptures were repeated, when the two girls
came with their father, through the gloom of the evening, to make
enquiries; and Mr Musgrove, no longer under the first uneasiness about
his heir, could add his confirmation and praise, and hope there would
be now no occasion for putting Captain Wentworth off, and only be sorry
to think that the cottage party, probably, would not like to leave the
little boy, to give him the meeting.  "Oh no; as to leaving the little
boy," both father and mother were in much too strong and recent alarm
to bear the thought; and Anne, in the joy of the escape, could not help
adding her warm protestations to theirs.

Charles Musgrove, indeed, afterwards, shewed more of inclination; "the
child was going on so well, and he wished so much to be introduced to
Captain Wentworth, that, perhaps, he might join them in the evening; he
would not dine from home, but he might walk in for half an hour." But
in this he was eagerly opposed by his wife, with "Oh! no, indeed,
Charles, I cannot bear to have you go away.  Only think if anything
should happen?"

The child had a good night, and was going on well the next day.  It
must be a work of time to ascertain that no injury had been done to the
spine; but Mr Robinson found nothing to increase alarm, and Charles
Musgrove began, consequently, to feel no necessity for longer
confinement.  The child was to be kept in bed and amused as quietly as
possible; but what was there for a father to do?  This was quite a
female case, and it would be highly absurd in him, who could be of no
use at home, to shut himself up.  His father very much wished him to
meet Captain Wentworth, and there being no sufficient reason against
it, he ought to go; and it ended in his making a bold, public
declaration, when he came in from shooting, of his meaning to dress
directly, and dine at the other house.

"Nothing can be going on better than the child," said he; "so I told my
father, just now, that I would come, and he thought me quite right.
Your sister being with you, my love, I have no scruple at all.  You
would not like to leave him yourself, but you see I can be of no use.
Anne will send for me if anything is the matter."

Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain.
Mary knew, from Charles's manner of speaking, that he was quite
determined on going, and that it would be of no use to teaze him.  She
said nothing, therefore, till he was out of the room, but as soon as
there was only Anne to hear--

"So you and I are to be left to shift by ourselves, with this poor sick
child; and not a creature coming near us all the evening!  I knew how
it would be.  This is always my luck.  If there is anything
disagreeable going on men are always sure to get out of it, and Charles
is as bad as any of them.  Very unfeeling!  I must say it is very
unfeeling of him to be running away from his poor little boy.  Talks of
his being going on so well!  How does he know that he is going on well,
or that there may not be a sudden change half an hour hence?  I did not
think Charles would have been so unfeeling.  So here he is to go away
and enjoy himself, and because I am the poor mother, I am not to be
allowed to stir; and yet, I am sure, I am more unfit than anybody else
to be about the child.  My being the mother is the very reason why my
feelings should not be tried.  I am not at all equal to it.  You saw
how hysterical I was yesterday."

"But that was only the effect of the suddenness of your alarm--of the
shock.  You will not be hysterical again.  I dare say we shall have
nothing to distress us.  I perfectly understand Mr Robinson's
directions, and have no fears; and indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder at
your husband.  Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not his
province.  A sick child is always the mother's property:  her own
feelings generally make it so."

"I hope I am as fond of my child as any mother, but I do not know that
I am of any more use in the sick-room than Charles, for I cannot be
always scolding and teazing the poor child when it is ill; and you saw,
this morning, that if I told him to keep quiet, he was sure to begin
kicking about.  I have not nerves for the sort of thing."

"But, could you be comfortable yourself, to be spending the whole
evening away from the poor boy?"

"Yes; you see his papa can, and why should not I?  Jemima is so
careful; and she could send us word every hour how he was.  I really
think Charles might as well have told his father we would all come.  I
am not more alarmed about little Charles now than he is.  I was
dreadfully alarmed yesterday, but the case is very different to-day."

"Well, if you do not think it too late to give notice for yourself,
suppose you were to go, as well as your husband.  Leave little Charles
to my care.  Mr and Mrs Musgrove cannot think it wrong while I remain
with him."

"Are you serious?" cried Mary, her eyes brightening.  "Dear me!  that's
a very good thought, very good, indeed.  To be sure, I may just as well
go as not, for I am of no use at home--am I?  and it only harasses me.
You, who have not a mother's feelings, are a great deal the properest
person.  You can make little Charles do anything; he always minds you
at a word.  It will be a great deal better than leaving him only with
Jemima.  Oh! I shall certainly go; I am sure I ought if I can, quite as
much as Charles, for they want me excessively to be acquainted with
Captain Wentworth, and I know you do not mind being left alone.  An
excellent thought of yours, indeed, Anne.  I will go and tell Charles,
and get ready directly.  You can send for us, you know, at a moment's
notice, if anything is the matter; but I dare say there will be nothing
to alarm you.  I should not go, you may be sure, if I did not feel
quite at ease about my dear child."

The next moment she was tapping at her husband's dressing-room door,
and as Anne followed her up stairs, she was in time for the whole
conversation, which began with Mary's saying, in a tone of great
exultation--

"I mean to go with you, Charles, for I am of no more use at home than
you are.  If I were to shut myself up for ever with the child, I should
not be able to persuade him to do anything he did not like.  Anne will
stay; Anne undertakes to stay at home and take care of him.  It is
Anne's own proposal, and so I shall go with you, which will be a great
deal better, for I have not dined at the other house since Tuesday."

"This is very kind of Anne," was her husband's answer, "and I should be
very glad to have you go; but it seems rather hard that she should be
left at home by herself, to nurse our sick child."

Anne was now at hand to take up her own cause, and the sincerity of her
manner being soon sufficient to convince him, where conviction was at
least very agreeable, he had no farther scruples as to her being left
to dine alone, though he still wanted her to join them in the evening,
when the child might be at rest for the night, and kindly urged her to
let him come and fetch her, but she was quite unpersuadable; and this
being the case, she had ere long the pleasure of seeing them set off
together in high spirits.  They were gone, she hoped, to be happy,
however oddly constructed such happiness might seem; as for herself,
she was left with as many sensations of comfort, as were, perhaps, ever
likely to be hers.  She knew herself to be of the first utility to the
child; and what was it to her if Frederick Wentworth were only half a
mile distant, making himself agreeable to others?

She would have liked to know how he felt as to a meeting.  Perhaps
indifferent, if indifference could exist under such circumstances.  He
must be either indifferent or unwilling.  Had he wished ever to see her
again, he need not have waited till this time; he would have done what
she could not but believe that in his place she should have done long
ago, when events had been early giving him the independence which alone
had been wanting.

Her brother and sister came back delighted with their new acquaintance,
and their visit in general.  There had been music, singing, talking,
laughing, all that was most agreeable; charming manners in Captain
Wentworth, no shyness or reserve; they seemed all to know each other
perfectly, and he was coming the very next morning to shoot with
Charles.  He was to come to breakfast, but not at the Cottage, though
that had been proposed at first; but then he had been pressed to come
to the Great House instead, and he seemed afraid of being in Mrs
Charles Musgrove's way, on account of the child, and therefore,
somehow, they hardly knew how, it ended in Charles's being to meet him
to breakfast at his father's.

Anne understood it.  He wished to avoid seeing her.  He had inquired
after her, she found, slightly, as might suit a former slight
acquaintance, seeming to acknowledge such as she had acknowledged,
actuated, perhaps, by the same view of escaping introduction when they
were to meet.

The morning hours of the Cottage were always later than those of the
other house, and on the morrow the difference was so great that Mary
and Anne were not more than beginning breakfast when Charles came in to
say that they were just setting off, that he was come for his dogs,
that his sisters were following with Captain Wentworth; his sisters
meaning to visit Mary and the child, and Captain Wentworth proposing
also to wait on her for a few minutes if not inconvenient; and though
Charles had answered for the child's being in no such state as could
make it inconvenient, Captain Wentworth would not be satisfied without
his running on to give notice.

Mary, very much gratified by this attention, was delighted to receive
him, while a thousand feelings rushed on Anne, of which this was the
most consoling, that it would soon be over.  And it was soon over.  In
two minutes after Charles's preparation, the others appeared; they were
in the drawing-room.  Her eye half met Captain Wentworth's, a bow, a
curtsey passed; she heard his voice; he talked to Mary, said all that
was right, said something to the Miss Musgroves, enough to mark an easy
footing; the room seemed full, full of persons and voices, but a few
minutes ended it.  Charles shewed himself at the window, all was ready,
their visitor had bowed and was gone, the Miss Musgroves were gone too,
suddenly resolving to walk to the end of the village with the
sportsmen:  the room was cleared, and Anne might finish her breakfast
as she could.

"It is over! it is over!" she repeated to herself again and again, in
nervous gratitude.  "The worst is over!"

Mary talked, but she could not attend.  She had seen him.  They had
met.  They had been once more in the same room.

Soon, however, she began to reason with herself, and try to be feeling
less.  Eight years, almost eight years had passed, since all had been
given up.  How absurd to be resuming the agitation which such an
interval had banished into distance and indistinctness!  What might not
eight years do?  Events of every description, changes, alienations,
removals--all, all must be comprised in it, and oblivion of the past--
how natural, how certain too!  It included nearly a third part of her
own life.

Alas! with all her reasoning, she found, that to retentive feelings
eight years may be little more than nothing.

Now, how were his sentiments to be read?  Was this like wishing to
avoid her?  And the next moment she was hating herself for the folly
which asked the question.

On one other question which perhaps her utmost wisdom might not have
prevented, she was soon spared all suspense; for, after the Miss
Musgroves had returned and finished their visit at the Cottage she had
this spontaneous information from Mary:--

"Captain Wentworth is not very gallant by you, Anne, though he was so
attentive to me.  Henrietta asked him what he thought of you, when they
went away, and he said, 'You were so altered he should not have known
you again.'"

Mary had no feelings to make her respect her sister's in a common way,
but she was perfectly unsuspicious of being inflicting any peculiar
wound.

"Altered beyond his knowledge."  Anne fully submitted, in silent, deep
mortification.  Doubtless it was so, and she could take no revenge, for
he was not altered, or not for the worse.  She had already acknowledged
it to herself, and she could not think differently, let him think of
her as he would.  No:  the years which had destroyed her youth and
bloom had only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in no
respect lessening his personal advantages.  She had seen the same
Frederick Wentworth.

"So altered that he should not have known her again!"  These were words
which could not but dwell with her.  Yet she soon began to rejoice that
she had heard them.  They were of sobering tendency; they allayed
agitation; they composed, and consequently must make her happier.

Frederick Wentworth had used such words, or something like them, but
without an idea that they would be carried round to her.  He had
thought her wretchedly altered, and in the first moment of appeal, had
spoken as he felt.  He had not forgiven Anne Elliot.  She had used him
ill, deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she had shewn a
feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confident
temper could not endure.  She had given him up to oblige others.  It
had been the effect of over-persuasion.  It had been weakness and
timidity.

He had been most warmly attached to her, and had never seen a woman
since whom he thought her equal; but, except from some natural
sensation of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again.  Her
power with him was gone for ever.

It was now his object to marry.  He was rich, and being turned on
shore, fully intended to settle as soon as he could be properly
tempted; actually looking round, ready to fall in love with all the
speed which a clear head and a quick taste could allow.  He had a heart
for either of the Miss Musgroves, if they could catch it; a heart, in
short, for any pleasing young woman who came in his way, excepting Anne
Elliot.  This was his only secret exception, when he said to his
sister, in answer to her suppositions:--

"Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match.  Anybody
between fifteen and thirty may have me for asking.  A little beauty,
and a few smiles, and a few compliments to the navy, and I am a lost
man.  Should not this be enough for a sailor, who has had no society
among women to make him nice?"

He said it, she knew, to be contradicted.  His bright proud eye spoke
the conviction that he was nice; and Anne Elliot was not out of his
thoughts, when he more seriously described the woman he should wish to
meet with.  "A strong mind, with sweetness of manner," made the first
and the last of the description.

"That is the woman I want," said he.  "Something a little inferior I
shall of course put up with, but it must not be much.  If I am a fool,
I shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more than
most men."




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The girls looked all amazement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This brought his sister upon him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ay, that we shall."

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

He got up and moved away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not a bit did Walter stir.

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

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




Other opportunities of making her observations could not fail to occur.
Anne had soon been in company with all the four together often enough
to have an opinion, though too wise to acknowledge as much at home,
where she knew it would have satisfied neither husband nor wife; for
while she considered Louisa to be rather the favourite, she could not
but think, as far as she might dare to judge from memory and
experience, that Captain Wentworth was not in love with either.  They
were more in love with him; yet there it was not love.  It was a little
fever of admiration; but it might, probably must, end in love with
some.  Charles Hayter seemed aware of being slighted, and yet Henrietta
had sometimes the air of being divided between them.  Anne longed for
the power of representing to them all what they were about, and of
pointing out some of the evils they were exposing themselves to.  She
did not attribute guile to any.  It was the highest satisfaction to her
to believe Captain Wentworth not in the least aware of the pain he was
occasioning.  There was no triumph, no pitiful triumph in his manner.
He had, probably, never heard, and never thought of any claims of
Charles Hayter.  He was only wrong in accepting the attentions (for
accepting must be the word) of two young women at once.

After a short struggle, however, Charles Hayter seemed to quit the
field.  Three days had passed without his coming once to Uppercross; a
most decided change.  He had even refused one regular invitation to
dinner; and having been found on the occasion by Mr Musgrove with some
large books before him, Mr and Mrs Musgrove were sure all could not be
right, and talked, with grave faces, of his studying himself to death.
It was Mary's hope and belief that he had received a positive dismissal
from Henrietta, and her husband lived under the constant dependence of
seeing him to-morrow.  Anne could only feel that Charles Hayter was
wise.

One morning, about this time Charles Musgrove and Captain Wentworth
being gone a-shooting together, as the sisters in the Cottage were
sitting quietly at work, they were visited at the window by the sisters
from the Mansion-house.

It was a very fine November day, and the Miss Musgroves came through
the little grounds, and stopped for no other purpose than to say, that
they were going to take a long walk, and therefore concluded Mary could
not like to go with them; and when Mary immediately replied, with some
jealousy at not being supposed a good walker, "Oh, yes, I should like
to join you very much, I am very fond of a long walk;" Anne felt
persuaded, by the looks of the two girls, that it was precisely what
they did not wish, and admired again the sort of necessity which the
family habits seemed to produce, of everything being to be
communicated, and everything being to be done together, however
undesired and inconvenient.  She tried to dissuade Mary from going, but
in vain; and that being the case, thought it best to accept the Miss
Musgroves' much more cordial invitation to herself to go likewise, as
she might be useful in turning back with her sister, and lessening the
interference in any plan of their own.

"I cannot imagine why they should suppose I should not like a long
walk," said Mary, as she went up stairs.  "Everybody is always
supposing that I am not a good walker; and yet they would not have been
pleased, if we had refused to join them.  When people come in this
manner on purpose to ask us, how can one say no?"

Just as they were setting off, the gentlemen returned.  They had taken
out a young dog, who had spoilt their sport, and sent them back early.
Their time and strength, and spirits, were, therefore, exactly ready
for this walk, and they entered into it with pleasure.  Could Anne have
foreseen such a junction, she would have staid at home; but, from some
feelings of interest and curiosity, she fancied now that it was too
late to retract, and the whole six set forward together in the
direction chosen by the Miss Musgroves, who evidently considered the
walk as under their guidance.

Anne's object was, not to be in the way of anybody; and where the
narrow paths across the fields made many separations necessary, to keep
with her brother and sister.  Her pleasure in the walk must arise from
the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year
upon the tawny leaves, and withered hedges, and from repeating to
herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of
autumn, that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind
of taste and tenderness, that season which had drawn from every poet,
worthy of being read, some attempt at description, or some lines of
feeling.  She occupied her mind as much as possible in such like
musings and quotations; but it was not possible, that when within reach
of Captain Wentworth's conversation with either of the Miss Musgroves,
she should not try to hear it; yet she caught little very remarkable.
It was mere lively chat, such as any young persons, on an intimate
footing, might fall into.  He was more engaged with Louisa than with
Henrietta.  Louisa certainly put more forward for his notice than her
sister.  This distinction appeared to increase, and there was one
speech of Louisa's which struck her.  After one of the many praises of
the day, which were continually bursting forth, Captain Wentworth
added:--

"What glorious weather for the Admiral and my sister!  They meant to
take a long drive this morning; perhaps we may hail them from some of
these hills.  They talked of coming into this side of the country.  I
wonder whereabouts they will upset to-day.  Oh! it does happen very
often, I assure you; but my sister makes nothing of it; she would as
lieve be tossed out as not."

"Ah! You make the most of it, I know," cried Louisa, "but if it were
really so, I should do just the same in her place.  If I loved a man,
as she loves the Admiral, I would always be with him, nothing should
ever separate us, and I would rather be overturned by him, than driven
safely by anybody else."

It was spoken with enthusiasm.

"Had you?" cried he, catching the same tone; "I honour you!" And there
was silence between them for a little while.

Anne could not immediately fall into a quotation again.  The sweet
scenes of autumn were for a while put by, unless some tender sonnet,
fraught with the apt analogy of the declining year, with declining
happiness, and the images of youth and hope, and spring, all gone
together, blessed her memory.  She roused herself to say, as they
struck by order into another path, "Is not this one of the ways to
Winthrop?" But nobody heard, or, at least, nobody answered her.

Winthrop, however, or its environs--for young men are, sometimes to be
met with, strolling about near home--was their destination; and after
another half mile of gradual ascent through large enclosures, where the
ploughs at work, and the fresh made path spoke the farmer counteracting
the sweets of poetical despondence, and meaning to have spring again,
they gained the summit of the most considerable hill, which parted
Uppercross and Winthrop, and soon commanded a full view of the latter,
at the foot of the hill on the other side.

Winthrop, without beauty and without dignity, was stretched before them;
an indifferent house, standing low, and hemmed in by the barns and
buildings of a farm-yard.

Mary exclaimed, "Bless me! here is Winthrop.  I declare I had no idea!
Well now, I think we had better turn back; I am excessively tired."

Henrietta, conscious and ashamed, and seeing no cousin Charles walking
along any path, or leaning against any gate, was ready to do as Mary
wished; but "No!" said Charles Musgrove, and "No, no!" cried Louisa
more eagerly, and taking her sister aside, seemed to be arguing the
matter warmly.

Charles, in the meanwhile, was very decidedly declaring his resolution
of calling on his aunt, now that he was so near; and very evidently,
though more fearfully, trying to induce his wife to go too.  But this
was one of the points on which the lady shewed her strength; and when
he recommended the advantage of resting herself a quarter of an hour at
Winthrop, as she felt so tired, she resolutely answered, "Oh! no,
indeed! walking up that hill again would do her more harm than any
sitting down could do her good;" and, in short, her look and manner
declared, that go she would not.

After a little succession of these sort of debates and consultations,
it was settled between Charles and his two sisters, that he and
Henrietta should just run down for a few minutes, to see their aunt and
cousins, while the rest of the party waited for them at the top of the
hill.  Louisa seemed the principal arranger of the plan; and, as she
went a little way with them, down the hill, still talking to Henrietta,
Mary took the opportunity of looking scornfully around her, and saying
to Captain Wentworth--

"It is very unpleasant, having such connexions!  But, I assure you, I
have never been in the house above twice in my life."

She received no other answer, than an artificial, assenting smile,
followed by a contemptuous glance, as he turned away, which Anne
perfectly knew the meaning of.

The brow of the hill, where they remained, was a cheerful spot: Louisa
returned; and Mary, finding a comfortable seat for herself on the step
of a stile, was very well satisfied so long as the others all stood
about her; but when Louisa drew Captain Wentworth away, to try for a
gleaning of nuts in an adjoining hedge-row, and they were gone by
degrees quite out of sight and sound, Mary was happy no longer; she
quarrelled with her own seat, was sure Louisa had got a much better
somewhere, and nothing could prevent her from going to look for a
better also.  She turned through the same gate, but could not see them.
Anne found a nice seat for her, on a dry sunny bank, under the
hedge-row, in which she had no doubt of their still being, in some spot
or other.  Mary sat down for a moment, but it would not do; she was
sure Louisa had found a better seat somewhere else, and she would go on
till she overtook her.

Anne, really tired herself, was glad to sit down; and she very soon
heard Captain Wentworth and Louisa in the hedge-row, behind her, as if
making their way back along the rough, wild sort of channel, down the
centre.  They were speaking as they drew near.  Louisa's voice was the
first distinguished.  She seemed to be in the middle of some eager
speech.  What Anne first heard was--

"And so, I made her go.  I could not bear that she should be frightened
from the visit by such nonsense.  What! would I be turned back from
doing a thing that I had determined to do, and that I knew to be right,
by the airs and interference of such a person, or of any person I may
say?  No, I have no idea of being so easily persuaded.  When I have
made up my mind, I have made it; and Henrietta seemed entirely to have
made up hers to call at Winthrop to-day; and yet, she was as near
giving it up, out of nonsensical complaisance!"

"She would have turned back then, but for you?"

"She would indeed.  I am almost ashamed to say it."

"Happy for her, to have such a mind as yours at hand!  After the hints
you gave just now, which did but confirm my own observations, the last
time I was in company with him,  I need not affect to have no
comprehension of what is going on.  I see that more than a mere dutiful
morning visit to your aunt was in question; and woe betide him, and her
too, when it comes to things of consequence, when they are placed in
circumstances requiring fortitude and strength of mind, if she have not
resolution enough to resist idle interference in such a trifle as this.
Your sister is an amiable creature; but yours is the character of
decision and firmness, I see.  If you value her conduct or happiness,
infuse as much of your own spirit into her as you can.  But this, no
doubt, you have been always doing.  It is the worst evil of too
yielding and indecisive a character, that no influence over it can be
depended on.  You are never sure of a good impression being durable;
everybody may sway it.  Let those who would be happy be firm.  Here is
a nut," said he, catching one down from an upper bough, "to exemplify:
a beautiful glossy nut, which, blessed with original strength, has
outlived all the storms of autumn.  Not a puncture, not a weak spot
anywhere.  This nut," he continued, with playful solemnity, "while so
many of his brethren have fallen and been trodden under foot, is still
in possession of all the happiness that a hazel nut can be supposed
capable of."  Then returning to his former earnest tone--"My first
wish for all whom I am interested in, is that they should be firm.  If
Louisa Musgrove would be beautiful and happy in her November of life,
she will cherish all her present powers of mind."

He had done, and was unanswered.  It would have surprised Anne if
Louisa could have readily answered such a speech:  words of such
interest, spoken with such serious warmth!  She could imagine what
Louisa was feeling.  For herself, she feared to move, lest she should
be seen.  While she remained, a bush of low rambling holly protected
her, and they were moving on.  Before they were beyond her hearing,
however, Louisa spoke again.

"Mary is good-natured enough in many respects," said she; "but she does
sometimes provoke me excessively, by her nonsense and pride--the Elliot
pride.  She has a great deal too much of the Elliot pride.  We do so
wish that Charles had married Anne instead.  I suppose you know he
wanted to marry Anne?"

After a moment's pause, Captain Wentworth said--

"Do you mean that she refused him?"

"Oh! yes; certainly."

"When did that happen?"

"I do not exactly know, for Henrietta and I were at school at the time;
but I believe about a year before he married Mary.  I wish she had
accepted him.  We should all have liked her a great deal better; and
papa and mamma always think it was her great friend Lady Russell's
doing, that she did not.  They think Charles might not be learned and
bookish enough to please Lady Russell, and that therefore, she
persuaded Anne to refuse him."

The sounds were retreating, and Anne distinguished no more.  Her own
emotions still kept her fixed.  She had much to recover from, before
she could move.  The listener's proverbial fate was not absolutely
hers; she had heard no evil of herself, but she had heard a great deal
of very painful import.  She saw how her own character was considered
by Captain Wentworth, and there had been just that degree of feeling
and curiosity about her in his manner which must give her extreme
agitation.

As soon as she could, she went after Mary, and having found, and walked
back with her to their former station, by the stile, felt some comfort
in their whole party being immediately afterwards collected, and once
more in motion together.  Her spirits wanted the solitude and silence
which only numbers could give.

Charles and Henrietta returned, bringing, as may be conjectured,
Charles Hayter with them.  The minutiae of the business Anne could not
attempt to understand; even Captain Wentworth did not seem admitted to
perfect confidence here; but that there had been a withdrawing on the
gentleman's side, and a relenting on the lady's, and that they were now
very glad to be together again, did not admit a doubt.  Henrietta
looked a little ashamed, but very well pleased;--Charles Hayter
exceedingly happy:  and they were devoted to each other almost from the
first instant of their all setting forward for Uppercross.

Everything now marked out Louisa for Captain Wentworth; nothing could
be plainer; and where many divisions were necessary, or even where they
were not, they walked side by side nearly as much as the other two.  In
a long strip of meadow land, where there was ample space for all, they
were thus divided, forming three distinct parties; and to that party of
the three which boasted least animation, and least complaisance, Anne
necessarily belonged.  She joined Charles and Mary, and was tired
enough to be very glad of Charles's other arm; but Charles, though in
very good humour with her, was out of temper with his wife.  Mary had
shewn herself disobliging to him, and was now to reap the consequence,
which consequence was his dropping her arm almost every moment to cut
off the heads of some nettles in the hedge with his switch; and when
Mary began to complain of it, and lament her being ill-used, according
to custom, in being on the hedge side, while Anne was never incommoded
on the other, he dropped the arms of both to hunt after a weasel which
he had a momentary glance of, and they could hardly get him along at
all.

This long meadow bordered a lane, which their footpath, at the end of
it was to cross, and when the party had all reached the gate of exit,
the carriage advancing in the same direction, which had been some time
heard, was just coming up, and proved to be Admiral Croft's gig.  He
and his wife had taken their intended drive, and were returning home.
Upon hearing how long a walk the young people had engaged in, they
kindly offered a seat to any lady who might be particularly tired; it
would save her a full mile, and they were going through Uppercross.
The invitation was general, and generally declined.  The Miss Musgroves
were not at all tired, and Mary was either offended, by not being asked
before any of the others, or what Louisa called the Elliot pride could
not endure to make a third in a one horse chaise.

The walking party had crossed the lane, and were surmounting an
opposite stile, and the Admiral was putting his horse in motion again,
when Captain Wentworth cleared the hedge in a moment to say something
to his sister.  The something might be guessed by its effects.

"Miss Elliot, I am sure you are tired," cried Mrs Croft.  "Do let us
have the pleasure of taking you home.  Here is excellent room for
three, I assure you.  If we were all like you, I believe we might sit
four.  You must, indeed, you must."

Anne was still in the lane; and though instinctively beginning to
decline, she was not allowed to proceed.  The Admiral's kind urgency
came in support of his wife's; they would not be refused; they
compressed themselves into the smallest possible space to leave her a
corner, and Captain Wentworth, without saying a word, turned to her,
and quietly obliged her to be assisted into the carriage.

Yes; he had done it.  She was in the carriage, and felt that he had
placed her there, that his will and his hands had done it, that she
owed it to his perception of her fatigue, and his resolution to give
her rest.  She was very much affected by the view of his disposition
towards her, which all these things made apparent.  This little
circumstance seemed the completion of all that had gone before.  She
understood him.  He could not forgive her, but he could not be
unfeeling.  Though condemning her for the past, and considering it with
high and unjust resentment, though perfectly careless of her, and
though becoming attached to another, still he could not see her suffer,
without the desire of giving her relief.  It was a remainder of former
sentiment; it was an impulse of pure, though unacknowledged friendship;
it was a proof of his own warm and amiable heart, which she could not
contemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that
she knew not which prevailed.

Her answers to the kindness and the remarks of her companions were at
first unconsciously given.  They had travelled half their way along the
rough lane, before she was quite awake to what they said.  She then
found them talking of "Frederick."

"He certainly means to have one or other of those two girls, Sophy,"
said the Admiral; "but there is no saying which.  He has been running
after them, too, long enough, one would think, to make up his mind.
Ay, this comes of the peace.  If it were war now, he would have settled
it long ago.  We sailors, Miss Elliot, cannot afford to make long
courtships in time of war.  How many days was it, my dear, between the
first time of my seeing you and our sitting down together in our
lodgings at North Yarmouth?"

"We had better not talk about it, my dear," replied Mrs Croft,
pleasantly; "for if Miss Elliot were to hear how soon we came to an
understanding, she would never be persuaded that we could be happy
together.  I had known you by character, however, long before."

"Well, and I had heard of you as a very pretty girl, and what were we
to wait for besides?  I do not like having such things so long in hand.
I wish Frederick would spread a little more canvass, and bring us home
one of these young ladies to Kellynch.  Then there would always be
company for them.  And very nice young ladies they both are; I hardly
know one from the other."

"Very good humoured, unaffected girls, indeed," said Mrs Croft, in a
tone of calmer praise, such as made Anne suspect that her keener powers
might not consider either of them as quite worthy of her brother; "and
a very respectable family.  One could not be connected with better
people.  My dear Admiral, that post!  we shall certainly take that
post."

But by coolly giving the reins a better direction herself they happily
passed the danger; and by once afterwards judiciously putting out her
hand they neither fell into a rut, nor ran foul of a dung-cart; and
Anne, with some amusement at their style of driving, which she imagined
no bad representation of the general guidance of their affairs, found
herself safely deposited by them at the Cottage.

 After Captain Wentworth arrives at Kellynch, Mr. Musgrove pays him a visit and invites him to dine at Uppercross. Several days later, on the night that the captain returns Mr. Musgrove's visit, Charles, Mary, and Anne also engage to dine at the Great House. As it turns out, however, they are unable to attend due to a last-minute injury of Mary's eldest son. He takes a bad fall and dislocates his collarbone, resulting in a great ordeal at the Cottage. Only after Charles' return and the apothecary's arrival does the situation begin to calm down. After dinner, the Musgroves from the Great House arrive at the Cottage to inquire about the injured child. After Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove leave, the young Miss. Musgroves stay behind to report their delightful impressions of Captain Wentworth's visit -- "how infinitely more agreeable they though him than any individual among their male acquaintance, who had been at all a favourite before" . In fact, the captain is once again engaged to dine at Uppercross on the next day. Although it is first assumed that the "cottage party" must remain home to look after the child, Charles expresses a desire to meet Captain Wentworth. Indeed, seeing that the child's condition does not require his immediate presence, Charles announces his resolve to dine at the Great House. At first, Mary complains of his "unfeeling" nature to Anne. But when prompted by Anne, Mary herself decides to join Charles for dinner. Anne is content to remain at home -- where she will be useful -- and besides, remains ambivalent about seeing Captain Wentworth. The next morning, Captain Wentworth stops by the Cottage on his way to go hunting with Charles. The surprise visit delights Mary but catches Anne off-guard -- how is she to act around him, to react to him? The captain sets off with Charles after brief greetings, but his presence has stirred up memories and passions in Anne: "Alas! with all her reasonings, she found, that to retentive feelings eight years may be little more than nothing" . Later, she hears from Mary that the captain found her "so altered he should not have known again" . This mortifies Anne, particularly since she finds him as attractive as before. Having made his fortune, the captain intends to marry -- ideally, a woman with "a strong mind, with sweetness of manner" . From their first meeting forth, Anne and Captain Wentworth are constantly found within the same circle. Despite their past, they say little to each other beyond what "the commonest civility required" . Since the party at Uppercross has little knowledge of naval matters, the captain is often found explaining the details of life at sea. The young Miss Musgroves, in particular, listen to him very intently, reminding Anne of her younger self. One day, as captain recounts his adventures on his first ship, the Asp -- and how he almost died at sea -- Mrs. Musgrove is reminded of her deceased son Richard. She announces her regrets that Richard ever left Captain Wentworth. Although the captain "had probably been at some pains to get rid of him," he suppresses his self-amusement and "showed the kindest consideration for all that was real and unabsurd in the parent's feelings" . The ensuing part of the evening is spent in discussion. Captain Wentworth is of the opinion that women should not be allowed on board ships -- or at least his own ship -- "from feeling how impossible it is, with all one's efforts, and all one's sacrifices, to make accommodations on board, such as women ought to have" . His sister disagrees, stating that she has found the best accommodations on men-of-war. While the captain maintains his position, Admiral Croft suggests that his ideas will change once he is married -- an idea that the captain denies vehemently. Aside, Mrs. Croft assures Mrs. Musgrove that men-of-war are perfectly suitable to ladies, so long as husband and wife are together. The evening ends in dancing, with the attentions of the young Miss Musgroves and Miss Hayters focused intently on Captain Wentworth. At one point, Anne senses that the captain may be observing her, or speaking of her. And once, he does speak to her: "I beg your pardon, madam, this is your set." Anne finds his "cold politeness, his ceremonial grace. . . worse than anything" . Although Captain Wentworth first intended to visit his brother at Shropshire, he has found such welcome at Uppercross that he has settled into Kellynch Hall for an indefinite period - and visits Uppercross almost daily. When one Charles Hayter returns to the Uppercross circle after a short absence, however, he does not appreciate the captain's presence. Charles Hayter is the eldest of the cousins and a pleasant clergyman who lives only two miles from Uppercross. Although the Hayters are clearly below the Musgroves in the social hierarchy, the two families have always "been on excellent terms, there being no pride on one side, and no envy on the other" . Thus far, the young Mr. Hayter has enjoyed the attentions of the Miss Musgroves and has been on particularly good terms with Henrietta. But upon his return, he finds his presence eclipsed by Captain Wentworth. Since Captain Wentworth's recent arrival, speculation has abounded as to which of the Miss Musgroves he prefers. At the Cottage, Charles Musgrove states that he would be happy to have either of his sisters marry the captain. ary, on the other hand, would prefer him to marry Henrietta on account of Charles Hayter, "whose pretensions she wished to see put an end to." Mary has inherited a clear share of the Elliot pride and believes that Henrietta "has no right to throw herself away" . Charles counters that Henrietta could do much worse -- and that her marriage to Charles Hayter would free Captain Wentworth for Louisa. As for Anne, she deems it important that Captain Wentworth makes a decision before he compromises his honor or gives false impressions. With regards to Charles Hayter, whom she has known for a long time, she finds the situation alarming. Only two weeks have passed, but the young Miss Musgroves' attentions have been almost completely diverted. The young Mr. Hayter has hope, however, of securing a much more advantageous position in the near future, for Dr. Shirley, the local rector, has become somewhat infirm in his old age. One morning, Captain Wentworth arrives at the Cottage to find Anne alone in the room with Mary's injured son Charles. Both parties are surprised by the encounter and are unsure of what to do. At this point, Charles Hayter enters the room, followed by Mary's younger son. The boy fastens himself around Anne's neck playfully and refuses to release her, even after Charles Hayter's prompting. At this point, Captain Wentworth steps in and picks up the boy, leaving Anne "perfectly speechless." His act of kindness towards her leaves her in state of "painful agitation," the recovery from which "required a long application of solitude and reflection" . After observing the party at Uppercross for some time, Anne comes to believe that Captain Wentworth is in love with neither of the Miss Musgroves, nor are either of the Musgroves in love with the captain. On the lady's part, there is a "little fever of admiration"; on the captain's part, there is a mistake of "accepting the attentions. . . of two young woman at once." As for Charles Hayter, it appears that he feels slighted and has "quit the field" . One morning, the Miss Musgroves, Anne, and Mary set out to take a walk and are joined by Charles Musgrove and Captain Wentworth. Anne takes pleasure in the exercise and in repeating "the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn," yet she cannot help but overhear Captain Wentworth's conversations with the Miss Musgroves . He appears more engaged with Louisa than with Henrietta. At one point, the captain wonders whether his sister and brother-in-law are enjoying the weather. Louisa declares that she would be doing so, were she in Mrs. Croft's place -- and that she would always stay by the man she loved. Captain Wentworth responds, equally enthusiastically: "I honour you" ! Shocked by the mutual enthusiasm between the couple, Anne cannot fall back into her poetic quotations for a while. As they approach Winthrop, Charles declares that he would like to visit his aunt and cousins. Since Mary is tired -- and does not deign to visit the relatives -- it is decided that Charles will go down with Henrietta while the rest of the party remains on the hill. While Louisa and Captain Wentworth wander off, Anne and Mary sit down by a hedge-row. After a while, Anne hears Louisa and the captain walking behind the hedge-row, out of sight. When Louisa speaks of Henrietta's "nonsensical complaisance" regarding the visit to the relatives, the captain responds with a warm speech praising her "character of decision and firmness" . Equally startling to Anne, however, is the captain's curious attitude when he learns from Louisa that Anne turned down Charles Musgrove's marriage proposal. Charles Musgrove and Henrietta return with Charles Hayter, with whom Henrietta seems to have reestablished good terms. The party is thus divided into three couples, with only Anne taking Charles' arm to form a group of three. On their way home, the party chances upon the Crofts' carriage. Captain Wentworth suggests to his sister that they might take Anne home with them, as she seems tired. Anne is moved by his "warm and amiable heart, which she could not contemplate without emotions so compounded of pleasure and pain, that she knew not which prevailed" . On the way home, the Admiral and his wife discuss which of the young Miss Musgroves the captain intends to marry.

