At eighteen Anne Elliot, a pretty, gentle, motherless girl, one of the
three daughters of a poor and proud baronet, had met a gallant young
naval officer, a Lieutenant Wentworth, who had paid ample homage to
her attractions. The couple had fallen very genuinely and deeply in
love. Their marriage was impossible till the gentleman should rise in
his profession, or come home with prize-money. But Sir Walter Elliot,
more from indifference than indulgence to Anne, would have permitted
the engagement--entered into for a brief space of mingled happiness and
misery--to continue. It was Lady Russell--Anne’s mother’s friend--who
interfered, and by her urgent representations of the trials of a long
engagement, and the sacrifice of the man’s prospects, still more than
those of the woman, in a poor marriage, induced Anne to consent to the
engagement being broken off.
The couple parted in mutual sorrow, strongly dashed by resentment on
the gentleman’s side. They did not meet, they hardly heard of each
other again, for eight years, during which the young officer followed
his profession and won honours and fortune; while the girl he had loved
lived on with her uncongenial relatives, and passed, with more than
usual rapidity, from blooming, light-hearted girlhood to pale, serious
womanhood.[71] In the interval certainly she might have married, with
the approval of Lady Russell, who began to take alarm, and grow less
exacting for her favourite. But Anne refused Charles Musgrove, younger,
of Uppercross, who contented himself afterwards with her sister Mary.
This event happened two years after the rupture with Lieutenant
Wentworth, and six or seven years before the opening of the story.
Since then, to Lady Russell’s mortification, no desirable wooer had
succeeded these earlier suitors.
In the course of the thirteen years during which Elizabeth Elliott,
a handsome, cold-hearted woman, had presided over Kellynch and her
father’s house in London, opened county balls, and taken the lead at
county dinner parties, Sir Walter, a foolish old coxcomb, had managed
to get into embarrassed circumstances. The father and daughter had a
capacity for spending, but none for retrenchment; so that when economy
became absolutely necessary, the only feasible plan which presented
itself was for Sir Walter to let Kellynch, and retire to Bath, where
he could practise a certain amount of display with less outlay. Lady
Russell, the great friend of the family, reluctantly advised this
course.
The termination of the war is turning many naval officers ashore,
and Kellynch is soon let to an Admiral Croft. On the first mention
of him as a possible tenant Sir Walter asks superciliously, “And who
is Admiral Croft?” and Anne joins in the conversation all at once,
volunteering the minute information, “He is Rear-admiral of the White.
He was on the Trafalgar station, and has been in the East Indies since.
He has been stationed there, I believe, several years.”
When it is nearly settled that Admiral Croft is to come to Kellynch,
Anne Elliott reflects sadly as she paces her favourite walk, “A few
months more, and _he_, perhaps, may be walking here.” “He” is not
Admiral Croft, but his brother-in-law, Captain Wentworth.
When it is fixed that the Crofts are to come to Kellynch, and the
Elliots are to go to Bath, it is also fixed that Anne is to pay visits
to Lady Russell and to young Mrs. Musgrove, before she joins the rest
of her family.
At Uppercross village there are the Great House, occupied by the squire
and his wife, with their numerous younger children, prominent among
whom are the two pleasant girls, Henrietta and Louisa Musgrove, and the
Cottage where Charles Musgrove and his wife, Anne Elliott’s sister,
reside. Mrs. Charles, though selfish, and not over-wise, is less
destitute of family affection than Elizabeth Elliot. Charles Musgrove
is well-intentioned and friendly, with more brains than his wife,
though the great object of his life is sport.
The Great House gaieties serve to enliven the family life at the
Cottage, for the Musgroves are extremely popular, have a constant
succession of neighbourly visitors, give many dinner-parties, and even
an occasional unpremeditated little ball, because the girls are “wild
for dancing.”
Kellynch and Uppercross are near enough for visiting, and the Musgroves
have to call for the Crofts. Anne is glad enough to be spared the
visit, but she has no objection to be at home during the return visit.
Admiral Croft and his wife, who has been almost as much at sea as her
husband--since these were the days when entire domestic establishments
were permitted, to some extent, on board the ships in his Majesty’s
navy--show themselves frank, unaffected, and cordial, as become their
antecedents. Anne would have heartily approved of Mrs. Croft, even
though she had not been prepossessed in her favour, and specially
interested in her, because of the opportunity of watching for a
likeness. The regard is extended to the bluff, good-humoured admiral.
Just one or two awkward references are made. Mrs. Croft reminds Anne
of her acquaintance with the elder lady’s brother, but it turns out to
be Edward Wentworth, the clergyman, and not Frederick, the sailor, to
whom their sister refers. It may be, also, the same Edward of whom the
admiral is thinking, when he remarks, “We are expecting a brother of
Mrs. Croft’s here soon,” and is prevented from saying anything more.
But the next communication with one of the Misses Musgrove proves it
was not Edward who was the coming brother. When the Crofts had called
that morning, they had happened to say her brother, Captain Wentworth,
just returned to England, or paid off, or something, was coming to see
them almost directly; “and, most unluckily, it came into mamma’s head,
when they were gone, that Wentworth, or something like it, was the name
of poor Richard’s captain at one time; I do not know when, or where,
but a great while before he died, poor fellow! And upon looking over
his letters and things she found it was so, and is perfectly sure that
this must be the very man; and her head is quite full of it, and of
poor Richard.”[72]
In a few days Captain Wentworth is at Kellynch. Mr. Musgrove has
fulfilled his intention of calling for him, and it is by the merest
chance that Anne and Mary, in one of their daily visits to the Great
House, have not encountered Captain Wentworth paying his return visit.
The two sisters were stopped by a bad fall which one of the children
had, in which his collar-bone was dislocated, and such alarming
consequences apprehended for a time, that Anne was entirely engrossed
by the claims upon her.
When the little boy is rather better, his young aunts who have come
to inquire for him are at liberty to speak of some other person, and
to try to express how perfectly delighted they are with Captain
Wentworth--how much handsomer, how infinitely more agreeable they think
him than any individual among their male acquaintances who has been
at all a favourite before; how glad they are that he has promised, in
reply to their papa and mamma’s pressing invitation, to dine with them
to-morrow.
To begin with, neither Charles Musgrove nor his wife can think
of leaving the child to join the dinner party. But after the boy
has passed a good night, and the surgeon’s report is favourable,
they--first the father and then the mother--allow themselves to leave
him, for a few hours, in the care of his aunt.
Charles Musgrove and his wife come home delighted with their new
acquaintance. He is to shoot with Charles Musgrove next morning. There
had been some mention of Captain Wentworth’s coming to breakfast at the
cottage, but he had been afraid of being in Mrs. Charles Musgrove’s way
on account of the child, and it had been agreed that Charles should
meet him at the Great House instead.
Anne understands it. He wishes to avoid seeing her. He has inquired for
her slightly, as might suit a former slight acquaintance, seeming to
acknowledge such as she had acknowledged, probably with the same view
of escaping an introduction when they do meet.
The morning hours of the Cottage were later than those at the other
house. Mary and Anne are only beginning breakfast when Charles comes in
for his dogs, and announces that his sisters are following with Captain
Wentworth, who proposes to wait on Mrs. Charles Musgrove, for a few
minutes, if convenient; and though Charles has answered for the state
of the child, he would not be satisfied without Charles’s running on to
give notice.
Mary is full of gratification at the little attention, “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 Misses Musgrove, enough to mark an easy
footing; the room seemed full, full of persons and voices; but a few
minutes ended it. Charles showed himself at the window. All was ready;
their visitor had bowed and was gone, the Misses Musgrove 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!”
After the Misses Musgrove have finished their visit at the Cottage,
Anne receives the 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 having inflicted any peculiar
wound. She had been a girl at school during Anne’s brief engagement,
and had never been made acquainted with it.
“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.
“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;[73] 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 shown 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
effects 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 quick taste could allow. He had a heart
for either of the Misses Musgrove 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.”