No More Learning

"February 1st.

"My dear Anne,--I make no apology for my silence, because I know how
little people think of letters in such a place as Bath. You must be a
great deal too happy to care for Uppercross, which, as you well know,
affords little to write about. We have had a very dull Christmas; Mr
and Mrs Musgrove have not had one dinner party all the holidays. I do
not reckon the Hayters as anybody. The holidays, however, are over at
last: I believe no children ever had such long ones. I am sure I had
not. The house was cleared yesterday, except of the little Harvilles;
but you will be surprised to hear they have never gone home. Mrs
Harville must be an odd mother to part with them so long. I do not
understand it. They are not at all nice children, in my opinion; but
Mrs Musgrove seems to like them quite as well, if not better, than her
grandchildren. What dreadful weather we have had! It may not be felt
in Bath, with your nice pavements; but in the country it is of some
consequence. I have not had a creature call on me since the second
week in January, except Charles Hayter, who had been calling much
oftener than was welcome. Between ourselves, I think it a great pity
Henrietta did not remain at Lyme as long as Louisa; it would have kept
her a little out of his way. The carriage is gone to-day, to bring
Louisa and the Harvilles to-morrow. We are not asked to dine with
them, however, till the day after, Mrs Musgrove is so afraid of her
being fatigued by the journey, which is not very likely, considering
the care that will be taken of her; and it would be much more
convenient to me to dine there to-morrow. I am glad you find Mr Elliot
so agreeable, and wish I could be acquainted with him too; but I have
my usual luck: I am always out of the way when any thing desirable is
going on; always the last of my family to be noticed. What an immense
time Mrs Clay has been staying with Elizabeth! Does she never mean to
go away? But perhaps if she were to leave the room vacant, we might
not be invited. Let me know what you think of this. I do not expect
my children to be asked, you know. I can leave them at the Great House
very well, for a month or six weeks. I have this moment heard that the
Crofts are going to Bath almost immediately; they think the Admiral
gouty. Charles heard it quite by chance; they have not had the
civility to give me any notice, or of offering to take anything. I do
not think they improve at all as neighbours. We see nothing of them,
and this is really an instance of gross inattention. Charles joins me
in love, and everything proper. Yours affectionately,

"Mary M---.

"I am sorry to say that I am very far from well; and Jemima has just
told me that the butcher says there is a bad sore-throat very much
about. I dare say I shall catch it; and my sore-throats, you know, are
always worse than anybody's. "


So ended the first part, which had been afterwards put into an
envelope, containing nearly as much more.


"I kept my letter open, that I might send you word how Louisa bore her
journey, and now I am extremely glad I did, having a great deal to add.
In the first place, I had a note from Mrs Croft yesterday, offering to
convey anything to you; a very kind, friendly note indeed, addressed to
me, just as it ought; I shall therefore be able to make my letter as
long as I like. The Admiral does not seem very ill, and I sincerely
hope Bath will do him all the good he wants. I shall be truly glad to
have them back again. Our neighbourhood cannot spare such a pleasant
family. But now for Louisa. I have something to communicate that will
astonish you not a little. She and the Harvilles came on Tuesday very
safely, and in the evening we went to ask her how she did, when we were
rather surprised not to find Captain Benwick of the party, for he had
been invited as well as the Harvilles; and what do you think was the
reason? Neither more nor less than his being in love with Louisa, and
not choosing to venture to Uppercross till he had had an answer from Mr
Musgrove; for it was all settled between him and her before she came
away, and he had written to her father by Captain Harville. True, upon
my honour! Are not you astonished? I shall be surprised at least if
you ever received a hint of it, for I never did. Mrs Musgrove protests
solemnly that she knew nothing of the matter. We are all very well
pleased, however, for though it is not equal to her marrying Captain
Wentworth, it is infinitely better than Charles Hayter; and Mr Musgrove
has written his consent, and Captain Benwick is expected to-day. Mrs
Harville says her husband feels a good deal on his poor sister's
account; but, however, Louisa is a great favourite with both. Indeed,
Mrs Harville and I quite agree that we love her the better for having
nursed her. Charles wonders what Captain Wentworth will say; but if
you remember, I never thought him attached to Louisa; I never could see
anything of it. And this is the end, you see, of Captain Benwick's
being supposed to be an admirer of yours. How Charles could take such
a thing into his head was always incomprehensible to me. I hope he
will be more agreeable now. Certainly not a great match for Louisa
Musgrove, but a million times better than marrying among the Hayters. "


Mary need not have feared her sister's being in any degree prepared for
the news. She had never in her life been more astonished. Captain
Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! It was almost too wonderful for belief,
and it was with the greatest effort that she could remain in the room,
preserve an air of calmness, and answer the common questions of the
moment. Happily for her, they were not many. Sir Walter wanted to
know whether the Crofts travelled with four horses, and whether they
were likely to be situated in such a part of Bath as it might suit Miss
Elliot and himself to visit in; but had little curiosity beyond.

"How is Mary? " said Elizabeth; and without waiting for an answer, "And
pray what brings the Crofts to Bath? "

"They come on the Admiral's account. He is thought to be gouty. "

"Gout and decrepitude! " said Sir Walter. "Poor old gentleman. "

"Have they any acquaintance here? " asked Elizabeth.

"I do not know; but I can hardly suppose that, at Admiral Croft's time
of life, and in his profession, he should not have many acquaintance in
such a place as this. "

"I suspect," said Sir Walter coolly, "that Admiral Croft will be best
known in Bath as the renter of Kellynch Hall. Elizabeth, may we
venture to present him and his wife in Laura Place? "

"Oh, no! I think not. Situated as we are with Lady Dalrymple, cousins,
we ought to be very careful not to embarrass her with acquaintance she
might not approve. If we were not related, it would not signify; but
as cousins, she would feel scrupulous as to any proposal of ours. We
had better leave the Crofts to find their own level. There are several
odd-looking men walking about here, who, I am told, are sailors. The
Crofts will associate with them. "

This was Sir Walter and Elizabeth's share of interest in the letter;
when Mrs Clay had paid her tribute of more decent attention, in an
enquiry after Mrs Charles Musgrove, and her fine little boys, Anne was
at liberty.

In her own room, she tried to comprehend it. Well might Charles wonder
how Captain Wentworth would feel! Perhaps he had quitted the field,
had given Louisa up, had ceased to love, had found he did not love her.
She could not endure the idea of treachery or levity, or anything akin
to ill usage between him and his friend. She could not endure that
such a friendship as theirs should be severed unfairly.

Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! The high-spirited, joyous-talking
Louisa Musgrove, and the dejected, thinking, feeling, reading, Captain
Benwick, seemed each of them everything that would not suit the other.
Their minds most dissimilar! Where could have been the attraction?
The answer soon presented itself. It had been in situation. They had
been thrown together several weeks; they had been living in the same
small family party: since Henrietta's coming away, they must have been
depending almost entirely on each other, and Louisa, just recovering
from illness, had been in an interesting state, and Captain Benwick was
not inconsolable. That was a point which Anne had not been able to
avoid suspecting before; and instead of drawing the same conclusion as
Mary, from the present course of events, they served only to confirm
the idea of his having felt some dawning of tenderness toward herself.
She did not mean, however, to derive much more from it to gratify her
vanity, than Mary might have allowed. She was persuaded that any
tolerably pleasing young woman who had listened and seemed to feel for
him would have received the same compliment. He had an affectionate
heart. He must love somebody.

She saw no reason against their being happy. Louisa had fine naval
fervour to begin with, and they would soon grow more alike. He would
gain cheerfulness, and she would learn to be an enthusiast for Scott
and Lord Byron; nay, that was probably learnt already; of course they
had fallen in love over poetry. The idea of Louisa Musgrove turned
into a person of literary taste, and sentimental reflection was
amusing, but she had no doubt of its being so. The day at Lyme, the
fall from the Cobb, might influence her health, her nerves, her
courage, her character to the end of her life, as thoroughly as it
appeared to have influenced her fate.

The conclusion of the whole was, that if the woman who had been
sensible of Captain Wentworth's merits could be allowed to prefer
another man, there was nothing in the engagement to excite lasting
wonder; and if Captain Wentworth lost no friend by it, certainly
nothing to be regretted. No, it was not regret which made Anne's heart
beat in spite of herself, and brought the colour into her cheeks when
she thought of Captain Wentworth unshackled and free. She had some
feelings which she was ashamed to investigate. They were too much like
joy, senseless joy!

She longed to see the Crofts; but when the meeting took place, it was
evident that no rumour of the news had yet reached them. The visit of
ceremony was paid and returned; and Louisa Musgrove was mentioned, and
Captain Benwick, too, without even half a smile.

The Crofts had placed themselves in lodgings in Gay Street, perfectly
to Sir Walter's satisfaction. He was not at all ashamed of the
acquaintance, and did, in fact, think and talk a great deal more about
the Admiral, than the Admiral ever thought or talked about him.

The Crofts knew quite as many people in Bath as they wished for, and
considered their intercourse with the Elliots as a mere matter of form,
and not in the least likely to afford them any pleasure. They brought
with them their country habit of being almost always together. He was
ordered to walk to keep off the gout, and Mrs Croft seemed to go shares
with him in everything, and to walk for her life to do him good. Anne
saw them wherever she went. Lady Russell took her out in her carriage
almost every morning, and she never failed to think of them, and never
failed to see them. Knowing their feelings as she did, it was a most
attractive picture of happiness to her. She always watched them as
long as she could, delighted to fancy she understood what they might be
talking of, as they walked along in happy independence, or equally
delighted to see the Admiral's hearty shake of the hand when he
encountered an old friend, and observe their eagerness of conversation
when occasionally forming into a little knot of the navy, Mrs Croft
looking as intelligent and keen as any of the officers around her.

Anne was too much engaged with Lady Russell to be often walking
herself; but it so happened that one morning, about a week or ten days
after the Croft's arrival, it suited her best to leave her friend, or
her friend's carriage, in the lower part of the town, and return alone
to Camden Place, and in walking up Milsom Street she had the good
fortune to meet with the Admiral. He was standing by himself at a
printshop window, with his hands behind him, in earnest contemplation
of some print, and she not only might have passed him unseen, but was
obliged to touch as well as address him before she could catch his
notice. When he did perceive and acknowledge her, however, it was done
with all his usual frankness and good humour. "Ha! is it you? Thank
you, thank you. This is treating me like a friend. Here I am, you
see, staring at a picture. I can never get by this shop without
stopping. But what a thing here is, by way of a boat! Do look at it.
Did you ever see the like? What queer fellows your fine painters must
be, to think that anybody would venture their lives in such a shapeless
old cockleshell as that? And yet here are two gentlemen stuck up in it
mightily at their ease, and looking about them at the rocks and
mountains, as if they were not to be upset the next moment, which they
certainly must be. I wonder where that boat was built! " (laughing
heartily); "I would not venture over a horsepond in it. Well,"
(turning away), "now, where are you bound? Can I go anywhere for you,
or with you? Can I be of any use? "

"None, I thank you, unless you will give me the pleasure of your
company the little way our road lies together. I am going home. "


"That I will, with all my heart, and farther, too. Yes, yes we will
have a snug walk together, and I have something to tell you as we go
along. There, take my arm; that's right; I do not feel comfortable if
I have not a woman there. Lord! what a boat it is! " taking a last look
at the picture, as they began to be in motion.

"Did you say that you had something to tell me, sir? "

"Yes, I have, presently. But here comes a friend, Captain Brigden; I
shall only say, 'How d'ye do? ' as we pass, however. I shall not stop.
'How d'ye do? ' Brigden stares to see anybody with me but my wife.
She, poor soul, is tied by the leg. She has a blister on one of her
heels, as large as a three-shilling piece. If you look across the
street, you will see Admiral Brand coming down and his brother. Shabby
fellows, both of them! I am glad they are not on this side of the way.
Sophy cannot bear them. They played me a pitiful trick once: got away
with some of my best men. I will tell you the whole story another
time. There comes old Sir Archibald Drew and his grandson. Look, he
sees us; he kisses his hand to you; he takes you for my wife. Ah! the
peace has come too soon for that younker. Poor old Sir Archibald! How
do you like Bath, Miss Elliot? It suits us very well. We are always
meeting with some old friend or other; the streets full of them every
morning; sure to have plenty of chat; and then we get away from them
all, and shut ourselves in our lodgings, and draw in our chairs, and
are as snug as if we were at Kellynch, ay, or as we used to be even at
North Yarmouth and Deal. We do not like our lodgings here the worse, I
can tell you, for putting us in mind of those we first had at North
Yarmouth. The wind blows through one of the cupboards just in the same
way. "

When they were got a little farther, Anne ventured to press again for
what he had to communicate. She hoped when clear of Milsom Street to
have her curiosity gratified; but she was still obliged to wait, for
the Admiral had made up his mind not to begin till they had gained the
greater space and quiet of Belmont; and as she was not really Mrs
Croft, she must let him have his own way. As soon as they were fairly
ascending Belmont, he began--

"Well, now you shall hear something that will surprise you. But first
of all, you must tell me the name of the young lady I am going to talk
about. That young lady, you know, that we have all been so concerned
for. The Miss Musgrove, that all this has been happening to. Her
Christian name: I always forget her Christian name. "

Anne had been ashamed to appear to comprehend so soon as she really
did; but now she could safely suggest the name of "Louisa. "

"Ay, ay, Miss Louisa Musgrove, that is the name. I wish young ladies
had not such a number of fine Christian names. I should never be out
if they were all Sophys, or something of that sort. Well, this Miss
Louisa, we all thought, you know, was to marry Frederick. He was
courting her week after week. The only wonder was, what they could be
waiting for, till the business at Lyme came; then, indeed, it was clear
enough that they must wait till her brain was set to right. But even
then there was something odd in their way of going on. Instead of
staying at Lyme, he went off to Plymouth, and then he went off to see
Edward. When we came back from Minehead he was gone down to Edward's,
and there he has been ever since. We have seen nothing of him since
November. Even Sophy could not understand it. But now, the matter has
taken the strangest turn of all; for this young lady, the same Miss
Musgrove, instead of being to marry Frederick, is to marry James
Benwick. You know James Benwick. "

"A little. I am a little acquainted with Captain Benwick. "

"Well, she is to marry him. Nay, most likely they are married already,
for I do not know what they should wait for. "

"I thought Captain Benwick a very pleasing young man," said Anne, "and
I understand that he bears an excellent character. "

"Oh! yes, yes, there is not a word to be said against James Benwick.
He is only a commander, it is true, made last summer, and these are bad
times for getting on, but he has not another fault that I know of. An
excellent, good-hearted fellow, I assure you; a very active, zealous
officer too, which is more than you would think for, perhaps, for that
soft sort of manner does not do him justice. "

"Indeed you are mistaken there, sir; I should never augur want of
spirit from Captain Benwick's manners.
I thought them particularly
pleasing, and I will answer for it, they would generally please. "

"Well, well, ladies are the best judges; but James Benwick is rather
too piano for me; and though very likely it is all our partiality,
Sophy and I cannot help thinking Frederick's manners better than his.
There is something about Frederick more to our taste. "

Anne was caught. She had only meant to oppose the too common idea of
spirit and gentleness being incompatible with each other, not at all to
represent Captain Benwick's manners as the very best that could
possibly be; and, after a little hesitation, she was beginning to say,
"I was not entering into any comparison of the two friends," but the
Admiral interrupted her with--

"And the thing is certainly true. It is not a mere bit of gossip. We
have it from Frederick himself. His sister had a letter from him
yesterday, in which he tells us of it, and he had just had it in a
letter from Harville, written upon the spot, from Uppercross. I fancy
they are all at Uppercross. "

This was an opportunity which Anne could not resist; she said,
therefore, "I hope, Admiral, I hope there is nothing in the style of
Captain Wentworth's letter to make you and Mrs Croft particularly
uneasy. It did seem, last autumn, as if there were an attachment
between him and Louisa Musgrove; but I hope it may be understood to
have worn out on each side equally, and without violence. I hope his
letter does not breathe the spirit of an ill-used man. "

"Not at all, not at all; there is not an oath or a murmur from
beginning to end. "

Anne looked down to hide her smile.

"No, no; Frederick is not a man to whine and complain; he has too much
spirit for that. If the girl likes another man better, it is very fit
she should have him. "

"Certainly. But what I mean is, that I hope there is nothing in
Captain Wentworth's manner of writing to make you suppose he thinks
himself ill-used by his friend, which might appear, you know, without
its being absolutely said. I should be very sorry that such a
friendship as has subsisted between him and Captain Benwick should be
destroyed, or even wounded, by a circumstance of this sort. "

"Yes, yes, I understand you. But there is nothing at all of that
nature in the letter. He does not give the least fling at Benwick;
does not so much as say, 'I wonder at it, I have a reason of my own for
wondering at it. ' No, you would not guess, from his way of writing,
that he had ever thought of this Miss (what's her name? ) for himself.
He very handsomely hopes they will be happy together; and there is
nothing very unforgiving in that, I think. "

Anne did not receive the perfect conviction which the Admiral meant to
convey, but it would have been useless to press the enquiry farther.
She therefore satisfied herself with common-place remarks or quiet
attention, and the Admiral had it all his own way.

"Poor Frederick! " said he at last. "Now he must begin all over again
with somebody else. I think we must get him to Bath. Sophy must
write, and beg him to come to Bath. Here are pretty girls enough, I am
sure. It would be of no use to go to Uppercross again, for that other
Miss Musgrove, I find, is bespoke by her cousin, the young parson. Do
not you think, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath? "



Chapter 19


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.



Chapter 20


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.