Captain Wentworth is on his way to Bath, and the very next time Anne
walks out she meets 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, 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; 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, 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. Captain
Wentworth must be out of sight. 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 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 inquiries on common subjects passed, neither of them 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 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 either 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, ‘Although 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 manners of the privileged
relation and friend. He came in with eagerness, and 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 and 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 Elliott, 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.’”
A day or two passes without further encounters. Anne longs for a
concert patronised by Lady Dalrymple. “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 inquiries in return, in spite of the formidable
father and sister in the background.
“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 making a distant bow, she
comprehended that her father had judged so well as to give him that
simple acknowledgment 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 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
the 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 honourable and kindly,
only anxious with true parental heart 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 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,[78]
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 some 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 a hundred things in a
moment.”
The entrance-door opens again, and “Lady Dalrymple, Lady Dalrymple!” is
the welcome sound. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, escorted by Mr.
Elliot and Colonel Wallis, advance into the room. Anne is included in
the group and separated from Captain Wentworth. But she has learnt in
the last ten minutes more of his feelings towards Louisa, more of all
his feelings, than she dares to think of.
Upon Lady Russell’s appearance, the whole party proceed to go into the
concert-room, and be of all the consequence in their power; draw as
many eyes, excite as many whispers, and disturb as many people as they
can.
“Very, very happy were both Elizabeth and Anne Elliot as they walked
in. Elizabeth, arm-in-arm with Miss Carteret, and looking on the broad
back of the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple before her, had nothing to
wish for which did not seem within her reach; and Anne--but it would
be an insult to the nature of Anne’s felicity to draw any comparison
between it and her sister’s--the origin of one all selfish vanity, of
the other all generous attachment.
“Anne saw nothing, thought nothing of the brilliancy of the room; the
happiness was from within. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks glowed,
but she knew nothing about it. His choice of subjects, his expressions,
and still more his manner and look, had been such as she could see
in only one light. His opinion of Louisa Musgrove’s inferiority--an
opinion which he had seemed solicitous to give--his wonder at Captain
Benwick, his feelings as to a fresh, strong attachment, sentences
begun which he could not finish, his half-averted eyes, and more
than half-expressive glances--all, all declared that he had a heart
returning to her at least; that anger, resentment, avoidance were
no more, and that they were succeeded, not merely by friendship and
regard, but by the tenderness of the past; yes, some share of the
tenderness of the past! He must love her.”
Anne Elliot is from first to last full of delicate self-respect
and retiring womanliness, yet Jane Austen makes her as incapable
of resentful obduracy to Captain Wentworth’s tardy relenting, as
of coquettish trifling with his revived affection. Anne is eager
and willing to meet his overtures half way, and relieve him of the
awkwardness of making them unsupported. To see her manner quite in the
right light, one must remember what she owed him, for the wrong which
she had done to both when she gave him up in the past. Her present free
forgiveness of his recent avoidance and neglect hardly balances her
renunciation of him eight years before.
“The party were divided and disposed of on two contiguous benches: Anne
was among those on the foremost, and Mr. Elliot had manœuvred so well,
with the assistance of his friend Colonel Wallis, as to have a seat by
her. Miss Elliot, surrounded by her cousins, and the principal object
of Colonel Wallis’s gallantry, was quite contented.”
Anne has never liked a concert better--at least, during the first act.
Towards the close of it, the necessity of explaining the words of an
Italian song[79] to Mr. Elliot, brings down upon her rather too many
gallant compliments from the gentleman. In the course of his praise,
he manages to rouse her curiosity by hinting that he may have had
longer acquaintance with her tastes and pursuits than she is aware of.
In answer to her questions, he assures her that he has known her by
report, long before she came to Bath. He has heard her described by one
who knew her intimately. Her person, disposition, accomplishments,
manner, were all familiar to him many years before.
Jane Austen remarks with great truth that no one can withstand the
charm of such a mystery. “To have been described, long ago, to a recent
acquaintance by nameless people, is irresistible. She wondered and
questioned him eagerly, but in vain. He delighted in being asked, but
he would not tell.”
Anne can only think of Mr. Wentworth, the former curate of Monksford,
in whose company Mr. Elliot may have been, but she does not mention the
name.
“The name of Anne Elliot,” said he, “has long had an interesting sound
to me. Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and if I dared
I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change.”
Before Anne can attempt an answer, she catches the name of Wentworth
mentioned by her father in answer to an observation of Lady
Dalrymple’s: and from the lady, “A very fine young man, indeed. More
air than one often sees in Bath. Irish, I dare say?”
“Anne’s eyes had caught the right direction, and distinguished Captain
Wentworth standing among a cluster of men at a little distance. As her
eyes fell upon him, his seemed to be withdrawn from her.
“When she could give another glance, he had moved away. He could not
have come nearer to her if he would, she was so surrounded and shut in,
but she would rather have caught his eye.
“Mr. Elliot’s speech, too, distressed her. She had no longer any
inclination to talk to him. She wished him not so near her.
“The first act was over. Now she hoped for some beneficial change; and
after a period of nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them did
decide on going in quest of tea. Anne was one of the few who did not
choose to move. She remained in her seat, and so did Lady Russell, but
she had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr. Elliot; and she did not
mean, whatever she might feel on Lady Russell’s account, to shrink
from conversation with Captain Wentworth if he gave her opportunity.
She was persuaded by Lady Russell’s countenance that she had seen him.
“He did not come, however. The others returned, the room filled again,
benches were re-claimed, and re-possessed.
“In re-settling themselves there were many changes, the result of which
was favourable for her. Colonel Wallis declined sitting down again, and
Mr. Elliot was invited by Elizabeth and Miss Carteret, in a manner not
to be refused, to sit between them; and by some other removals, and
a little scheming of her own, Anne was enabled to place herself much
nearer the end of the bench than she had been before, much more within
the reach of a passer-by. She could not do so without comparing herself
with Miss Larolles, the inimitable Miss Larolles;[80] but still, she
did it, and not with much happier effect, though she found herself at
the very end of the bench before the concert closed.
“Such was her situation, with a vacant space at hand, when Captain
Wentworth was again in sight. She saw him not far off; he saw her,
too, yet he looked grave, and seemed irresolute, and only by very
slow degrees came at last near enough to speak to her. She felt that
something must be the matter. The difference between his present air
and what it had been in the Octagon Room was strikingly great. Why
was it? She thought of her father--of Lady Russell. Could there have
been any unpleasant glances? He begun by speaking of the concert
gravely, more like the Captain Wentworth of Uppercross; owned himself
disappointed; had expected better singing; and, in short, must confess
that he should not be sorry when it was over. Anne replied, and spoke
of the performance so well, yet, in allowance for his feelings, so
pleasantly, that his countenance improved, and he replied again, with
almost a smile. They talked for a few minutes more; the improvement
held: he even looked down towards the bench, as if he saw a place on
it well worth occupying; when, at that moment, a touch on her shoulder
obliged her to turn round. It came from Mr. Elliot. He begged her
pardon, but she must be applied to, to explain Italian again. Miss
Carteret was very anxious to have a general idea of what was next to be
sung. Anne could not refuse, but never had she sacrificed to politeness
with a more suffering spirit.
“A few minutes, though as few as possible, were inevitably consumed;
and when her own mistress again--when able to turn and look, as she
had done before--she found herself accosted by Captain Wentworth in a
reserved yet hurried sort of farewell. He must wish her good night; he
was going; he should get home as fast as he could.
“‘Is not the song worth staying for?’ said Anne, suddenly struck by an
idea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging.
“‘No!’ he replied, impressively; ‘there is nothing worth my staying
for;’ and he was gone directly.
“‘Jealousy of Mr. Elliot.’ It was the only intelligible motive.”
During a call made on her old friend, Mrs. Smith, Anne is enlightened
beyond the power of doubt with regard to her cousin, Mr. Elliot’s,
unprincipled and heartless character. He was an old friend of the
Smiths, and had long ago heard a great deal from Mrs. Smith about
Anne Elliot. He helped to ruin Mr. Smith. He forsook the widow in her
desolation. He has come to Bath for the purpose of preventing Sir
Walter Elliot’s marriage to Mrs. Clay, with the probable loss of his
own succession to the baronetcy. His admiration for Anne induces Mr.
Elliot to propose to give himself the right of a son-in-law to hinder
the consummation of her father’s folly.
Anne can only shudder at what might have been the possibility of such a
marriage for her.