<p>Her plan of sitting with Lady Russell must give way for the present.
They all three called in Rivers Street for a couple of minutes;
but Anne convinced herself that a day's delay of the intended communication
could be of no consequence, and hastened forward to the White Hart,
to see again the friends and companions of the last autumn,
with an eagerness of good-will which many associations contributed to form.</p>
<p>They found Mrs Musgrove and her daughter within, and by themselves,
and Anne had the kindest welcome from each. Henrietta was exactly
in that state of recently-improved views, of fresh-formed happiness,
which made her full of regard and interest for everybody she had
ever liked before at all; and Mrs Musgrove's real affection had been won
by her usefulness when they were in distress. It was a heartiness,
and a warmth, and a sincerity which Anne delighted in the more,
from the sad want of such blessings at home. She was entreated
to give them as much of her time as possible, invited for every day
and all day long, or rather claimed as part of the family; and, in return,
she naturally fell into all her wonted ways of attention and assistance,
and on Charles's leaving them together, was listening to Mrs Musgrove's
history of Louisa, and to Henrietta's of herself, giving opinions
on business, and recommendations to shops; with intervals of every help
which Mary required, from altering her ribbon to settling her accounts;
from finding her keys, and assorting her trinkets, to trying
to convince her that she was not ill-used by anybody; which Mary,
well amused as she generally was, in her station at a window
overlooking the entrance to the Pump Room, could not but have
her moments of imagining.</p>
<p>A morning of thorough confusion was to be expected. A large party
in an hotel ensured a quick-changing, unsettled scene. One five minutes
brought a note, the next a parcel; and Anne had not been there
half an hour, when their dining-room, spacious as it was,
seemed more than half filled: a party of steady old friends
were seated around Mrs Musgrove, and Charles came back with
Captains Harville and Wentworth. The appearance of the latter
could not be more than the surprise of the moment. It was impossible
for her to have forgotten to feel that this arrival of their
common friends must be soon bringing them together again.
Their last meeting had been most important in opening his feelings;
she had derived from it a delightful conviction; but she feared
from his looks, that the same unfortunate persuasion, which had
hastened him away from the Concert Room, still governed.
He did not seem to want to be near enough for conversation.</p>
<p>She tried to be calm, and leave things to take their course,
and tried to dwell much on this argument of rational dependence:--"Surely,
if there be constant attachment on each side, our hearts
must understand each other ere long. We are not boy and girl,
to be captiously irritable, misled by every moment's inadvertence,
and wantonly playing with our own happiness." And yet,
a few minutes afterwards, she felt as if their being in company
with each other, under their present circumstances, could only be
exposing them to inadvertencies and misconstructions of the most
<p>"Anne," cried Mary, still at her window, "there is Mrs Clay,
I am sure, standing under the colonnade, and a gentleman with her.
I saw them turn the corner from Bath Street just now. They seemed
deep in talk. Who is it? Come, and tell me. Good heavens! I recollect.
It is Mr Elliot himself."</p>
<p>"No," cried Anne, quickly, "it cannot be Mr Elliot, I assure you.
He was to leave Bath at nine this morning, and does not come back
<p>As she spoke, she felt that Captain Wentworth was looking at her,
the consciousness of which vexed and embarrassed her, and made her regret
that she had said so much, simple as it was.</p>
<p>Mary, resenting that she should be supposed not to know her own cousin,
began talking very warmly about the family features, and protesting
still more positively that it was Mr Elliot, calling again upon Anne
to come and look for herself, but Anne did not mean to stir,
and tried to be cool and unconcerned. Her distress returned,
however, on perceiving smiles and intelligent glances pass between
two or three of the lady visitors, as if they believed themselves
quite in the secret. It was evident that the report concerning her
had spread, and a short pause succeeded, which seemed to ensure
that it would now spread farther.</p>
<p>"Do come, Anne" cried Mary, "come and look yourself. You will be too late
if you do not make haste. They are parting; they are shaking hands.
He is turning away. Not know Mr Elliot, indeed! You seem to have
forgot all about Lyme."</p>
<p>To pacify Mary, and perhaps screen her own embarrassment,
Anne did move quietly to the window. She was just in time to ascertain
that it really was Mr Elliot, which she had never believed,
before he disappeared on one side, as Mrs Clay walked quickly off
on the other; and checking the surprise which she could not but feel
at such an appearance of friendly conference between two persons
of totally opposite interest, she calmly said, "Yes, it is Mr Elliot,
certainly. He has changed his hour of going, I suppose, that is all,
or I may be mistaken, I might not attend;" and walked back to her chair,
recomposed, and with the comfortable hope of having acquitted herself well.</p>
<p>The visitors took their leave; and Charles, having civilly seen them off,
and then made a face at them, and abused them for coming, began with--</p>
<p>"Well, mother, I have done something for you that you will like.
I have been to the theatre, and secured a box for to-morrow night.
A'n't I a good boy? I know you love a play; and there is room for us all.
It holds nine. I have engaged Captain Wentworth. Anne will
not be sorry to join us, I am sure. We all like a play.
Have not I done well, mother?"</p>
<p>Mrs Musgrove was good humouredly beginning to express her perfect readiness
for the play, if Henrietta and all the others liked it, when Mary
eagerly interrupted her by exclaiming--</p>
<p>"Good heavens, Charles! how can you think of such a thing?
Take a box for to-morrow night! Have you forgot that we are engaged
to Camden Place to-morrow night? and that we were most particularly asked
to meet Lady Dalrymple and her daughter, and Mr Elliot, and all
the principal family connexions, on purpose to be introduced to them?
How can you be so forgetful?"</p>
<p>"Phoo! phoo!" replied Charles, "what's an evening party?
Never worth remembering. Your father might have asked us to dinner,
I think, if he had wanted to see us. You may do as you like,
but I shall go to the play."</p>
<p>"Oh! Charles, I declare it will be too abominable if you do,
when you promised to go."</p>
<p>"No, I did not promise. I only smirked and bowed, and said the word
'happy.' There was no promise."</p>
<p>"But you must go, Charles. It would be unpardonable to fail.
We were asked on purpose to be introduced. There was always
such a great connexion between the Dalrymples and ourselves.
Nothing ever happened on either side that was not announced immediately.
We are quite near relations, you know; and Mr Elliot too,
whom you ought so particularly to be acquainted with! Every attention
is due to Mr Elliot. Consider, my father's heir: the future
representative of the family."</p>
<p>"Don't talk to me about heirs and representatives," cried Charles.
"I am not one of those who neglect the reigning power to bow
to the rising sun. If I would not go for the sake of your father,
I should think it scandalous to go for the sake of his heir.
What is Mr Elliot to me?" The careless expression was life to Anne,
who saw that Captain Wentworth was all attention, looking and
listening with his whole soul; and that the last words brought
his enquiring eyes from Charles to herself.</p>
<p>Charles and Mary still talked on in the same style; he, half serious
and half jesting, maintaining the scheme for the play, and she,
invariably serious, most warmly opposing it, and not omitting
to make it known that, however determined to go to Camden Place herself,
she should not think herself very well used, if they went to the play
without her. Mrs Musgrove interposed.</p>
<p>"We had better put it off. Charles, you had much better go back
and change the box for Tuesday. It would be a pity to be divided,
and we should be losing Miss Anne, too, if there is a party at her father's;
and I am sure neither Henrietta nor I should care at all for the play,
if Miss Anne could not be with us."</p>
<p>Anne felt truly obliged to her for such kindness; and quite as much
so for the opportunity it gave her of decidedly saying--</p>
<p>"If it depended only on my inclination, ma'am, the party at home
(excepting on Mary's account) would not be the smallest impediment.
I have no pleasure in the sort of meeting, and should be too happy
to change it for a play, and with you. But, it had better
not be attempted, perhaps." She had spoken it; but she trembled
when it was done, conscious that her words were listened to,
and daring not even to try to observe their effect.</p>
<p>It was soon generally agreed that Tuesday should be the day;
Charles only reserving the advantage of still teasing his wife,
by persisting that he would go to the play to-morrow if nobody else would.</p>
<p>Captain Wentworth left his seat, and walked to the fire-place;
probably for the sake of walking away from it soon afterwards,
and taking a station, with less bare-faced design, by Anne.</p>
<p>"You have not been long enough in Bath," said he, "to enjoy
the evening parties of the place."</p>
<p>"Oh! no. The usual character of them has nothing for me.
I am no card-player."</p>
<p>"You were not formerly, I know. You did not use to like cards;
but time makes many changes."</p>
<p>"I am not yet so much changed," cried Anne, and stopped, fearing she
hardly knew what misconstruction. After waiting a few moments
he said, and as if it were the result of immediate feeling,
"It is a period, indeed! Eight years and a half is a period."</p>
<p>Whether he would have proceeded farther was left to Anne's imagination
to ponder over in a calmer hour; for while still hearing the sounds
he had uttered, she was startled to other subjects by Henrietta,
eager to make use of the present leisure for getting out,
and calling on her companions to lose no time, lest somebody else
should come in.</p>
<p>They were obliged to move. Anne talked of being perfectly ready,
and tried to look it; but she felt that could Henrietta have known
the regret and reluctance of her heart in quitting that chair,
in preparing to quit the room, she would have found, in all her own
sensations for her cousin, in the very security of his affection,
wherewith to pity her.</p>
<p>Their preparations, however, were stopped short. Alarming sounds
were heard; other visitors approached, and the door was thrown open
for Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, whose entrance seemed to give
a general chill. Anne felt an instant oppression, and wherever she looked
saw symptoms of the same. The comfort, the freedom, the gaiety
of the room was over, hushed into cold composure, determined silence,
or insipid talk, to meet the heartless elegance of her father and sister.
How mortifying to feel that it was so!</p>
<p>Her jealous eye was satisfied in one particular. Captain Wentworth
was acknowledged again by each, by Elizabeth more graciously than before.
She even addressed him once, and looked at him more than once.
Elizabeth was, in fact, revolving a great measure. The sequel
explained it. After the waste of a few minutes in saying
the proper nothings, she began to give the invitation which
was to comprise all the remaining dues of the Musgroves.
"To-morrow evening, to meet a few friends: no formal party."
It was all said very gracefully, and the cards with which she had
provided herself, the "Miss Elliot at home," were laid on the table,
with a courteous, comprehensive smile to all, and one smile and
one card more decidedly for Captain Wentworth. The truth was,
that Elizabeth had been long enough in Bath to understand
the importance of a man of such an air and appearance as his.
The past was nothing. The present was that Captain Wentworth
would move about well in her drawing-room. The card was pointedly given,
and Sir Walter and Elizabeth arose and disappeared.</p>
<p>The interruption had been short, though severe, and ease and animation
returned to most of those they left as the door shut them out,
but not to Anne. She could think only of the invitation she had
with such astonishment witnessed, and of the manner in which
it had been received; a manner of doubtful meaning, of surprise rather
than gratification, of polite acknowledgement rather than acceptance.
She knew him; she saw disdain in his eye, and could not venture to believe
that he had determined to accept such an offering, as an atonement
for all the insolence of the past. Her spirits sank. He held the card
in his hand after they were gone, as if deeply considering it.</p>
<p>"Only think of Elizabeth's including everybody!" whispered Mary
very audibly. "I do not wonder Captain Wentworth is delighted!
You see he cannot put the card out of his hand."</p>
<p>Anne caught his eye, saw his cheeks glow, and his mouth form itself
into a momentary expression of contempt, and turned away,
that she might neither see nor hear more to vex her.</p>
<p>The party separated. The gentlemen had their own pursuits,
the ladies proceeded on their own business, and they met no more while
Anne belonged to them. She was earnestly begged to return and dine,
and give them all the rest of the day, but her spirits had been
so long exerted that at present she felt unequal to more,
and fit only for home, where she might be sure of being as silent
as she chose.</p>
<p>Promising to be with them the whole of the following morning, therefore,
she closed the fatigues of the present by a toilsome walk to Camden Place,
there to spend the evening chiefly in listening to the busy arrangements
of Elizabeth and Mrs Clay for the morrow's party, the frequent enumeration
of the persons invited, and the continually improving detail of all
the embellishments which were to make it the most completely elegant
of its kind in Bath, while harassing herself with the never-ending
question, of whether Captain Wentworth would come or not? They were
reckoning him as certain, but with her it was a gnawing solicitude
never appeased for five minutes together. She generally thought
he would come, because she generally thought he ought; but it was a case
which she could not so shape into any positive act of duty or discretion,
as inevitably to defy the suggestions of very opposite feelings.</p>
<p>She only roused herself from the broodings of this restless agitation,
to let Mrs Clay know that she had been seen with Mr Elliot
three hours after his being supposed to be out of Bath,
for having watched in vain for some intimation of the interview
from the lady herself, she determined to mention it, and it seemed to her
there was guilt in Mrs Clay's face as she listened. It was transient:
cleared away in an instant; but Anne could imagine she read there
the consciousness of having, by some complication of mutual trick,
or some overbearing authority of his, been obliged to attend
(perhaps for half an hour) to his lectures and restrictions on her designs
on Sir Walter. She exclaimed, however, with a very tolerable
imitation of nature:--</p>
<p>"Oh! dear! very true. Only think, Miss Elliot, to my great surprise
I met with Mr Elliot in Bath Street. I was never more astonished.
He turned back and walked with me to the Pump Yard. He had been prevented
setting off for Thornberry, but I really forget by what;
for I was in a hurry, and could not much attend, and I can only answer
for his being determined not to be delayed in his return.
He wanted to know how early he might be admitted to-morrow.
He was full of 'to-morrow,' and it is very evident that I have been
full of it too, ever since I entered the house, and learnt the extension
of your plan and all that had happened, or my seeing him could never have
gone so entirely out of my head."</p>
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