Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1
As the carriage wended its way through the thoroughfare of Bath, Anne Elliot sighed and shook her head. Bath, which she disliked, was to be her home for the next year while the Crofts leased Kellynch. As a young girl, returning back to school in Bath after having been notified to be by her mother's deathbed, Anne had suffered lonely, grieving hours that had formed painful memories of Bath which could not be easily forgotten. Anne did not look forward to her stay in Bath with any pleasure and was silently determined to return to Uppercross as soon as her sister Mary gave her a hint that her company was wanted.
Anne's thoughts were rudely interrupted when she was jolted from her seat - just as she half-feared, Lady Russell's coachman was not used to the crowded streets in Bath and had collided with another equipage. "H--l and thunder! D---ation!" A series of oaths were uttered in rapid succession, interspersed with shrieks of horror. Anne steadied herself when the carriage ceased its nauseating rocking, and looked out of the window. She encountered the frightened countenance of a young girl and the red face of a young man swearing furiously.
"If that blasted stupid fool had the sense to handle his horses properly, none of this would have occurred. D----ation!" cried the young man.
"Aye! And to say nought of your vicious nag here! You couldn't control her, she was bolting away from you!" Robert, Lady Russell's coachman, was fast to retort. "You was lucky that we stopped you with our carriage!" he added sarcastically.
Anne intervened gently by calling out to the young man. "Sir, we are sorry for any damage to your equipage. But your companion is not herself; indeed, madam, you are exceedingly pale. Please accept my offer to convey you to your destination."
The young man was none other than John Thorpe, who had boasted of his driving abilities to Catherine Morland not ten minutes before his gentle nag had taken fright and run away from his control in response to a sharp whipping to urge it to attain an impossible speed. Catherine was grateful for Anne's offer, and John Thorpe's fury abated when he realized that the passenger in the carriage was a lady.
Catherine gladly accepted Anne's offer to convey her back to the Allens' lodgings, while John Thorpe apologized with ill grace to Anne, muttering that his horse was the sweetest tempered creature in the whole world, and had only taken fright when it saw the lumbering carriage clattering down the street. Anne was used to dealing with belligerent tenants on her father's estate, and merely mentioned that she was staying at Camden Place, where Mr. Thorpe was welcome to call on her to discuss any damage to be compensated for.
Chapter 2
In the carriage, under Anne's soothing ministrations with sal volatile, Catherine regained her colour. "Oh! You cannot know how grateful I am to be away from Mr. Thorpe!" she exclaimed, before realizing the seeming impropriety of her utterance. Blushing, she added that Mr. Thorpe had been urging his horse forward during the drive and that she had feared that the horse would not be able to bear his whipping. A thought darted through Catherine's mind that although he was dear Isabella's brother, John Thorpe was not quite amiable; she even ventured to think that he was positively disagreeable to take such delight in frightening her during the drive.
Anne felt sorry for the shock that Catherine had received, and endeavoured to calm her with soothing comments and by chatting about commonplace matters. Each young lady learnt about the other's circumstances and why each was in Bath - one seeking pleasure in activities not to be enjoyed in the country, the other hoping that Bath would not be so very bad. Catherine was eager to become better acquainted with Anne, who seemed sensible and friendly. Anne found in Catherine a lively and unpretentious young lady, and she was ready to meet all Catherine's friendly overtures. Before Catherine reached her lodgings, the young ladies had agreed to meet each other at the Pump Room the next morning.
Anne continued her way to Camden Place, where her father and Elizabeth had leased a townhouse for their sojourn in Bath. Lady Russell had accompanied Sir Walter and Elizabeth to Bath to secure the lease, and had written very highly of the house they had fixed upon - not only was it very good house in a a lofty and dignified situation, the rent was also very reasonable for the time of the year. Anne entered the house with a sinking heart, anticipating an imprisonment of many months, and anxiously saying to herself, "Oh! when shall I leave you again?" A degree of unexpected cordiality, however, in the welcome she received, did her good. Her father and sister were glad to see her, for the sake of shewing her the house and furniture, and met her with kindness. Her making a fourth, when they sat down to dinner, was noticed as an advantage by Mrs. Clay, who was her usual pleasant self and plied Anne with a great many courtesies.
Other than their great satisfaction with the house, the furniture, and the pleasures to be had in Bath, they could not speak enough of Mr. Elliot. He was not only pardoned, they were delighted with him. All his perceived past transgressions were explained away, all was forgiven and now the heir now sought to be integrated with Sir Walter's family. He was a frequent caller at Camden Place, on the most intimate terms with the family, and appropriately grateful for the attentions shewn to him.
Chapter 2
Anne listened to the astonishing account of Mr. Elliot's transformation into a family favourite without quite understanding it all. She could not help but think that much of his past behaviour had been glossed over lightly by Elizabeth, and that his present situation as a wealthy widower being highly acceptable to Elizabeth was the chief reason for the complaisance with which his explanations had been met. Indeed, Anne could only offer up one reason for Mr. Elliot's wishing to be reconnected with the family: Elizabeth. She was likely the reason for his frequent calls - after all, Elizabeth was a handsome woman with considerable powers of pleasing where she chose. After a long interval marked by indifference on his part and resentment on Sir Walter's part, during which Mr. Elliot had become much the richer of the two, Anne could not understand his sudden desire to be received by the family, unless it was for Elizabeth's sake. Most earnestly did Anne wish that he might not be too nice, or too observant if Elizabeth were his object; and that Elizabeth was disposed to believe herself so, and that her friend Mrs Clay was encouraging the idea, seemed apparent by a glance or two between them, while Mr Elliot's frequent visits were talked of.
Anne mentioned the glimpses she had had of him at Lyme, but was not much attended to. "Oh! yes, perhaps, it had been Mr Elliot. They did not know. It might be him, perhaps." They could not listen to her description of him. They could not even listen to her account of Uppercross and its inhabitants, it was all Mr. Elliot.
Chapter 3
It is a truth universally acknowledged that all visitors to Bath must be in want of the healthful waters in the Pump Room. The next day after Anne's arrival, the Elliots and Mrs. Clay, accompanied by Lady Russell, set off for the Pump Room for that very purpose. At the fountain, Elizabeth began to complain to Mrs. Clay of the detestable crowds, while Sir Walter looked around in vain for a woman with a tolerable face. Standing a little aside with Anne, Lady Russell took the opportunity to bring up the subject of Mr. Elliot's reconciliation with the family, and expressed her approval of his long due attentions to the head of the family. Before Anne could offer her interpretation of Mr. Elliot's behaviour, a new arrival suspended all. It was Mr. Elliot - the same, the very same man at Lyme, with no difference but of dress.
Anne drew a little back, while the others received his very polite compliments. Sir Walter talked of his youngest daughter; "Mr Elliot must give him leave to present him to his youngest daughter" (there was no occasion for remembering Mary); and Anne, smiling and blushing, very becomingly shewed to Mr Elliot the pretty features which he had by no means forgotten, and instantly saw, with amusement at his little start of surprise, that he had not been at all aware of who she was. He looked completely astonished, but not more astonished than pleased; his eyes brightened! and with the most perfect alacrity he welcomed the relationship, alluded to the past, and entreated to be received as an acquaintance already. He was quite as good-looking as he had appeared at Lyme, his countenance improved by speaking, and his manners were so exactly what they ought to be, so polished, so easy, so particularly agreeable, that she could compare them in excellence to only one person's manners. They were not the same, but they were, perhaps, equally good.
The whole party had by now each obtained a glass of the curative waters, and on Mr. Elliot's suggestion, moved away to sit down. He sat down with them, and greatly improved the conversation. There could be no doubt of his being a sensible man. Ten minutes were enough to certify that. His tone, his expressions, his choice of subject, his knowing where to stop; it was all the operation of a sensible, discerning mind. As soon as he could, he began to talk to her of Lyme, wanting to compare opinions respecting the place, but especially wanting to speak of the circumstance of their happening to be guests in the same inn at the same time; and to speak of his regret of losing such an opportunity of paying his respects to her. She gave him a short account of her party and business at Lyme. His regret increased as he listened. He had spent his whole solitary evening in the room adjoining theirs; had heard voices, mirth continually; thought they must be a most delightful set of people, longed to be with them, but certainly without the smallest suspicion of his possessing the shadow of a right to introduce himself. Hearing Anne allude to "an accident," he must hear the whole. When he questioned, Sir Walter and Elizabeth began to question also, but the difference in their manner of doing it could not be unfelt. She could only compare Mr Elliot to Lady Russell, in the wish of really comprehending what had passed, and in the degree of concern for what she must have suffered in witnessing it.
"How dreadful that all sounds!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I wouldn't have been at Lyme for all the world, I would dislike being injured excessively. But how I do long to hear about your dinner at Colonel Wallis' last night, Mr. Elliot! Tell me, was Mrs. Hamilton wearing that hideous turban she has taken such a ridiculous liking to?" While Elizabeth claimed Mr. Elliot's attention, Catherine approached Anne, with a young man on one arm and a very pretty young lady on the other.
"Miss Elliot! I'm so glad to have found you in this crush! I caught sight of you as your party entered the room, and have been making my way to you since. May I introduce my companions? My brother, James Morland, and my friend, Isabella Thorpe."
Anne greeted Catherine kindly, and introduced her party. Sir Walter was struck by Isabella's beauty, and studied her face closely for freckles. On being satisfied that no freckles marred her face, Sir Walter deigned to converse with Isabella. Isabella was pleased about being seen with a baronet and being introduced to Mr. Elliot, who was good looking and seemed to be a gentleman of great consequence. The party broke up into little groups, with Lady Russell, Sir Walter, Mrs. Clay, Isabella and James Morland forming one group, Elizabeth and Mr. Elliot forming another, and Anne and Catherine forming the third. Each party carried on its conversation according to the interests of each.
"I am much struck by your fine complexion, Miss Thorpe," began Sir Walter. "Maintaining a clear and fresh complexion, in this frosty morning, to be sure, a sharp frost, which hardly one woman in a thousand could stand the test of. It must be Gowland, I presume?"
"Gowland? No, Sir Walter, I assure you I've not applied anything!" Isabella was immensely gratified. "Gowland may be used for carrying away freckles, but you see I have none."
"I am of the same mind as to the application of Gowland!" Sir Walter approved. "Look here at Mrs. Clay: she has benefitted immeasurably by the constant use of Gowland, hardly any freckles on her face now! I recommended Gowland to her as the most effective means of lessening freckles."
"You are too kind, Sir Walter," simpered Mrs. Clay. "I owe the improvement of my complexion entirely to your care and recommendations." Lady Russell was alarmed by this exchange, for it appeared to her that Mrs. Clay was as freckled as before, if not more! Her suspicions about Mrs. Clay's designs on Sir Walter grew, and she resolved to speak plainly to Elizabeth when the opportunity arose.
Isabella recognized in Mrs. Clay another coquette, and was determined to appropriate Sir Walter's attention to herself, while at the same time catching the eye of Mr. Elliot. James, meanwhile, being newly engaged to Isabella, was proud that dear Isabella's beauty was thus admired.
Elizabeth was eagerly questioning Mr. Elliot about his dinner party last night. "Well, rather you than me!" she concluded. "I could not have tolerated that bore Mr. Elton or that upstart Augusta Hawkins, with her incessant comparisons of Maple Grove and Bath, as well as you could."
"I didn't enjoy the party as thoroughly as you think I have." Mr. Elliot protested. "I wished myself at Camden Place every minute and longed to call on you after dinner, but was afraid the hour was too late. Had I only called! I could have been introduced to my cousin Anne on her arrival. Were you expecting her last night? I had not heard of her joining you in Bath."
"Oh, we knew she was coming sometime or other and Lady Russell was to send her carriage for Anne, it didn't much matter when she arrived, it's only Anne. You know of course that you are welcome to call at Camden Place, my father is always very well pleased to see you."
"And I hope Anne, and you, will be glad of my visits too. I recalled Anne at once when I saw her just now, the very same person at Bath whom I felt such a connection to, though I was not aware of our relationship. Is she many years your junior?"
"Anne?" Elizabeth was flustered by any, even the most distant, reflections on her age. "Oh, yes, she is my junior. Anne is so timid! I wish she would exert herself in company, you'll find that her coming will not add much liveliness to our party. It is fortunate that Penelope has agreed to stay with us, or Camden Place would be so much the duller. Come, let us ask Penelope her opinion of Augusta Hawkins being engaged to Mr. Elton before the end of the month; it certainly won't be her fault if they are not engaged, she is clearly determined on having him."
Isabella brightened at the sight of Mr. Elliot joining their group. Engaging Sir Walter's attention was no longer a first object with her; to secure Mr. Elliot's admiration was now her prime motivation.
On their side, Anne very naturally inquired about Catherine's health, and expressed her concern that Catherine had not suffered any ill effects from the fright she had received yesterday in the collision. Catherine assured her that she was very well, and told Anne that she was delighted to meet Anne that morning, for she had some very happy news to share with her. "James and Isabella are engaged! I was so happy to hear it, Miss Elliot! She is my most particular friend, to have them engaged is the happiest thing in the world!"
"My congratulations, Miss Morland." Anne's mind inevitably recalled her own engagement eight and a half years ago, and the happiness she experienced. "They are fortunate to have well-wishers like you. And is the marriage to take place soon?"
"Oh please call me Catherine -- ". "Then you must call me Anne." "Anne, James is to set off for Fullerton soon to ask my parents' permission, which we think will be readily obtained. The plans will be decided then, and a wedding day fixed upon. I wonder if -- oh!" Catherine broke off abruptly. "It's Mr. Thorpe! Anne, he is Isabella's brother, and I cannot well avoid him, but I cannot think of the collision without blaming him!"
"Whom were you blaming, Miss Morland? Not me, I hope, for failing to bring my sister to join you sooner." A gentleman had approached Catherine and Anne with a smile. It was Henry Tilney with his sister.
Catherine was delighted with the arrival of Henry and Eleanor Tilney, whom she had secretly been looking out for since she entered the Pump Room. She had given up hope of finding him in the crowd, and to have him approach her, and bring his sister to meet her, answered all her wishes. Catherine introduced Anne to the Tilneys and the group immediately began to compare their impressions of Bath; Anne was taken by Eleanor's gentleness and good humour, Henry's lively wit, and Catherine's good nature. She had not expected to enjoy the morning so much.
The Camden Place party parted with their new acquaintances with mixed feelings. By virtue of her numerous stays in Bath, Lady Russell had a passing acquaintance with General Tilney; she was also glad for Anne's sake that his children were so amiable and would provide excellent company for Anne. To witness Anne slighted constantly by Elizabeth in favour of Mrs. Clay was very provoking, and Lady Russell could only be happy that Anne would have other more congenial company in Bath.
Like all handsome women, Elizabeth was not quite pleased at the attention a pretty woman like Isabella Thorpe had received. She did not like to think that Mr. Elliot admired Isabella, and merely remarked that while the Tilneys seemed pleasant, Isabella Thorpe and the Morlands were mere upstarts. "But Anne has such a droll collection of acquaintances! They are quite obviously people from out of the way with such pretentious country manners which have not had the advantage of town polish." She laughed; it took all Lady Russell's good manners to refrain from looking pointedly at Mrs. Clay and remarking that Anne's acquaintances were not the only ones from a village and who had never had the advantage of town polish.
Chapter 4
There was one point which Anne, on returning to her family, would have been more thankful to ascertain even than Mr Elliot's being in love with Elizabeth, which was, her father's not being in love with Mrs Clay; and she was very far from easy about it, when she had been at home a few hours. She feared, and not without reason, that her father was not proof against the flattery and wiles of Mrs. Clay, and could only wonder at Elizabeth's blindness. But everything must take its chance. The evil of such a marriage would be much diminished, if Elizabeth were also to marry. As for herself, she might always command a home with Lady Russell.
Lady Russell could not agree more with Anne regarding the evil of Mrs. Clay's continued stay at Camden Place. However, as Mr Elliot became known to her, Lady Russell grew more charitable, or more indifferent, towards the others. His manners were an immediate recommendation; and on conversing with him she found the solid so fully supporting the superficial, that she could not seriously picture to herself a more agreeable or estimable man. Everything united in him; good understanding, correct opinions, knowledge of the world, and a warm heart. He had strong feelings of family attachment and family honour, without pride or weakness; he lived with the liberality of a man of fortune, without display; he judged for himself in everything essential, without defying public opinion in any point of worldly decorum. He was steady, observant, moderate, candid; never run away with by spirits or by selfishness, which fancied itself strong feeling; and yet, with a sensibility to what was amiable and lovely, and a value for all the felicities of domestic life, which characters of fancied enthusiasm and violent agitation seldom really possess. She was sure that he had not been happy in marriage. Colonel Wallis said it, and Lady Russell saw it; but it had been no unhappiness to sour his mind, nor (she began pretty soon to suspect) to prevent his thinking of a second choice. Her satisfaction in Mr Elliot outweighed all the plague of Mrs Clay.
It was now some years since Anne had begun to learn that she and her excellent friend could sometimes think differently; and it did not surprise her, therefore, that Lady Russell should see nothing suspicious or inconsistent, nothing to require more motives than appeared, in Mr Elliot's great desire of a reconciliation. In Lady Russell's view, it was perfectly natural that Mr Elliot, at a mature time of life, should feel it a most desirable object, and what would very generally recommend him among all sensible people, to be on good terms with the head of his family; the simplest process in the world of time upon a head naturally clear, and only erring in the heyday of youth. Anne presumed, however, still to smile about it, and at last to mention "Elizabeth." Lady Russell listened, and looked, and made only this cautious reply: - "Elizabeth! I am not of your mind, you cannot be unaware that he admires you exceedingly." Lady Russell was satisfied with giving Anne and hint, and said no more.
Anne was unsettled by Lady Russell's conjectures, but however it might end, he was without doubt a very important addition to their family party: nobody at Camden Place was able to converse so easily with her; and it was a great indulgence now and then to talk to him about Lyme, which he seemed to have as lively a wish to see again, and to see more of, as herself. They went through the particulars of their first meeting a great many times. He gave her to understand that he had looked at her with some earnestness and admiration. She knew it well; and she remembered another person's look also.
Other than the comfort of Mr. Elliot's frequent calls at Camden Place, Anne also enjoyed furthering her acquaintance with Catherine Morland and Eleanor Tilney, who, like Anne, enjoyed walking early in the morning to take in the fresh air. Isabella Thorpe went for a walk with them only once; she complained of the early hour and did not join them again. The young people sometimes took strolls in the Parade Gardens or along the magnificent Royal Crescent, or quite often, were dragged by Catherine to the shops on Pulteney Bridge, in quest of a new ribbon or some other fribble. Henry sometimes joined them and made Anne laugh with his mock seriousness and considerable knowledge of women's finery. "Twelve shillings a yard! Much too expensive, my dear Miss Morland, for the yellow muslin. You are better off with the blue. Blue would suit you just as charmingly as the yellow and match with your new slippers. May I also recommend these gloves? They would set off that parasol extremely well." Anne could not have imagined a gentleman who possessed such detailed knowledge and oftened encountered Eleanor's laughing eye, who found Henry's dispensation of advice on feminine accoutrement amusing.
From Catherine, Anne learnt that James Morland had obtained his parents' blessing to his proposed marriage to Isabella Thorpe. The young couple were ecstatic or, as Henry privately thought, as ecstatic as Isabella could be, when she had time to spare from flirting with Captain Tilney and attempting to flirt unsuccessfully with Mr. Elliot. Catherine also confided to Anne that she was sometimes uneasy about dear Isabella's pettish behaviour towards James, but she believed it was only because Isabella was disappointed at having to wait a full year before her wedding. Anne was charmed by Catherine's naivety and her good nature. She could also discern that Catherine thought very highly of Henry. That the lady was overflowing with admiration was evident, but of the gentleman's sensations she remained in some doubt. She did think that Henry looked very tenderly at Catherine sometimes, but his liveliness and sunny nature led her to think that he was merely happy to be among friends; she feared that she saw too much and was mistaken in over-estimating the delight he took in Catherine's company.
Anne also became better acquainted with Miss Tilney, who was a good humoured, elegant young lady. Anne gathered from Eleanor that she was often in Bath with her father, who had been advised to visit Bath for the waters. That Eleanor was not entirely happy was also apparent: she could become pensive and at such moments, Henry looked at her anxiously. Anne wondered whether there was a reason for her seeming unhappiness, but was much too polite to initiate unsought enquiries.
One morning, the young people were strolling along Great Pulteney Street after making some purchases, when they were accosted by John and Isabella Thorpe. James had returned to Oxford to cram for his finals, and John Thorpe was to leave shortly thereafter. "Heigh ho!" cried John Thorpe. "You played us a very mean trick, Miss Morland by running away so quickly yesterday at the Pump Room." "Dear Catherine, I have not seen you in a thousand years! I begin to think you prefer your new friends to me," chided Isabella.
Catherine was confused by these sallies. She had spent the whole afternoon yesterday at the Thorpes' with Isabella and Isabella's two sisters, and had civilly greeted John Thorpe at the Pump Room. "But we read together yesterday, Isabella, and ---" Isabella took her arm, and interposed, "My dearest creature, you cannot know how I doat on you and long to see more of you. Miss Elliot and Miss Tilney will laugh if they knew how fond I am of you, fonder than I am of my own sisters!" This was carrying it too far even for Catherine. Anne and Eleanor had long perceived Isabella's artifice and vanity, but were afraid to pain Catherine by speaking plainly about Isabella.
"And what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you an age ago? Do you not think this turban becomes me well? I have seen Mrs. Hamilton wear one, it looks so strange on her! But I believe it becomes my odd face rather well. Miss Elliot, you must tell your sister how excessively wild I am about her sarsenet dress that she wore for the last assembly! All the men's eyes were on her, I was certain. But of course we engaged women have no part of other men's attentions!" Anne did not know quite how to respond, and merely smiled doubtfully.
"Dearest, sweetest Catherine, you must come directly with us to our lodgings, Mama longs to see you, " Isabella continued. "John is leaving for Oxford soon, you know, he is frantic to say his adieus properly. Do come, dear Catherine. Look, here are my mother and sisters waving to us."
Met with such determination, Catherine took leave of her party and joined the Thorpes. Anne continued her stroll with the Tilneys.
Chapter 8
The next two days passed without Anne having an opportunity to speak with Captain Wentworth again. Anne was getting to be very restless; it had been raining heavily and she could not take her usual walks with Catherine and the Tilneys, when she might encounter Captain Wentworth. He might have left Bath before she could meet him again. The two days were dull; no one except Lady Russell and Mr. Elliot came to call. Nothing could quite keep him away from Camden Place - Mrs. Clay hinted archly that nothing could keep him away from Elizabeth. Lady Russell came, and gave Anne more hints on her pleasure if Anne were to marry Mr. Elliot. In view of such hopes from Lady Russell, Anne did not bring up the subject of Captain Wentworth being in Bath.
Anne began to weary of the weather, when the sun broke in on the third day. The white glare of Bath seemed to have softened at the sight of the sun. Looking out, the terraces set in the steep hills of the Somerset countryside appeared fresh and appealing. Anne was considering walking out to visit Catherine, when Catherine and the Tilneys arrived at Camden Place. They had come to collect her for a walk. They had determined on walking round Beechen Cliff, that noble hill whose beautiful verdure and hanging coppice render it so striking an object from almost every opening in Bath, and were only wanting Anne to join them to make the party complete.
As they crossed Lansdown Road, Anne saw Captain Wentworth approach them from the opposite side of the pavement. She could not believe her great good luck in seeing him so soon again - but would he observe her? He did. He crossed the street and greeted her, noting quickly that Mr. Tilney and Miss Tilney, whom he had seen at Milsom Street, were also part of the group.
Anne knew nothing of the interesting speculations surrounding her and Mr. Tilney, and introduced Catherine and the Tilneys to Captain Wentworth as an old acquaintance of hers, unconsciously giving the Captain some pain when he reflected on his status as nothing but an "old acquaintance". But he was glad to walk with them; the party civilly invited him to join in their excursion around Beechen Cliff, and the invitation was accepted.
As Eleanor wanted to ask Anne her opinion of a new book they were both reading, Anne walked ahead with Eleanor and Henry. Anne longed to listen to Captain Wentworth and Catherine's conversation, but was obliged to pay attention to Eleanor.
Captain Wentworth and Catherine were conversing very politely about everyday subjects such as the weather, and the Crofts' lodgings at Gay Street where Captain Wentworth was staying, etc.
"And so you have just made the acquaintance of Miss Elliot in Bath?" asked the Captain, "You have been here many weeks now?"
"Oh yes, I have been here with the Allens, our neighbours in Fullerton, for five weeks now. Ever since I have become acquainted with Anne, she has been so good to me! Perhaps you do not know, but the gig I was travelling in collided with her carriage, and she took care to convey me back to the Allens. We have seen each other very often since then, for Eleanor and Mr. Tilney and Anne and I both love to walk for exercise."
"You have known Mr. and Miss Tilney for some time, I gather?"
"Oh no! I have only latterly made their acquaintance in Bath. I am so fortunate to have made so many friends here in Bath! The first day I was here, you know, I was not quite at ease because we did not know a single soul in this place, and could only stand around and be jostled by the crowd. Then I met Isabella, who is the daughter of an old acquaintance of Mrs. Allen's, and, as it turned out later, to be the sister of my brother James' particular friend Mr. Thorpe; Isabella and I are great friends; and to add to it all, James has just become engaged to Isabella, so we are to be sisters."
"Bath can be crowded but lonely when one has not many acquaintances," observed Captain Wentworth, "You are fortunate to have made so many agreeable friends on your arrival. Miss Elliot, I believe, is here with her family; do you meet with them often?"
"Sometimes we see them at the Pump Room or at the assemblies or at the theatre," replied Catherine, "I have not spoken ten words to Sir Walter, he has such a lofty manner that I am afraid to approach him. But Mr. Elliot is so pleasant; you are acquainted with him, Captain Wentworth?"
On Captain Wentworth's quiet negative, Catherine continued, "Well, I do believe he is the one of the most agreeable men I ever met. He is so kind and attentive, and always puts one at ease. Anne has often remarked how she enjoys his company and how happily their opinions coincide; he is often at Camden Place, you know, because of his particular connection with her family. He half lives there, no hour is too late to call but that he can be certain of a welcome from them." Captain Wentworth listened in silence.
When they arrived at the top of the cliff, they stopped and gazed down at Bath. "I never look at it," said Catherine, as they walked along the side of the river, "without thinking of the south of France."
"You have been abroad then?" said Henry, a little surprised.
"Oh! No, I only mean what I have read about. It always puts me in mind of the country that Emily and her father travelled through, in The Mysteries of Udolpho. But you never read novels, I dare say?"
"Why not?"
"Because they are not clever enough for you - gentlemen read better books."
"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. I have read all Mrs. Radcliffe's works, and most of them with great pleasure. The Mysteries of Udolpho, when I had once begun it, I could not lay down again; I remember finishing it in two days - my hair standing on end the whole time."
"Yes," added Miss Tilney, "and I remember that you undertook to read it aloud to me, and that when I was called away for only five minutes to answer a note, instead of waiting for me, you took the volume into the Hermitage Walk, and I was obliged to stay till you had finished it."
"Thank you, Eleanor - a most honourable testimony. You see, Miss Morland, the injustice of your suspicions. Here was I, in my eagerness to get on, refusing to wait only five minutes for my sister, breaking the promise I had made of reading it aloud, and keeping her in suspense at a most interesting part, by running away with the volume, which, you are to observe, was her own, particularly her own. I am proud when I reflect on it, and I think it must establish me in your good opinion."
Anne was highly amused by this interchange. "I have only read Udolpho last month, when I arrived in Bath. Lady Russell told me that it is all the rage in London, and I read it with the highest expectations and was not disappointed. I have never read anything like it before; Mrs. Radcliffe has such imagination and power to keep one enthralled. It was lucky you were not waiting for my copy, Eleanor, for nothing could have torn it away from me after I begun the book!" Henry laughed, and said, "And so you see, Eleanor, I am not the only person who could not put down Udolpho once I had begun it, I wondered how you could bear to run away and answer a note in the middle of reading Udolpho." Captain Wentworth resolved to read Udopho too.
"I am very glad to hear your opinions, and now I shall never be ashamed of liking Udolpho myself. But I really thought before, Mr. Tilney, that young men despised novels amazingly."
"It is amazingly; it may well suggest amazement if they do - for they read nearly as many as women. I myself have read hundreds and hundreds. Do not imagine that you can cope with me in a knowledge of Julias and Louisas. If we proceed to particulars, and engage in the never-ceasing inquiry of 'Have you read this?' and 'Have you read that?' I shall soon leave you as far behind me as - what shall I say? - l want an appropriate simile. - as far as your friend Emily herself left poor Valancourt when she went with her aunt into Italy. Consider how many years I have had the start of you. I had entered on my studies at Oxford, while you were a good little girl working your sampler at home!"
Anne smiled at Henry's passion for Julias and Louisas, and added that, "I cannot tell you how many Cecilias or Fannys I have myself read with great enjoyment. But really, Mr. Tilney, Catherine cannot be far from the truth when she says that many young men despise novels, I have seen ladies put away novels hurriedly when asked what they are reading. 'It is only Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda', they said; or as I say, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language." Captain Wentworth smiled involuntarily, here was the Anne he knew from eight years ago, eager to share her opinions about books, wholely passionate about reading and defending her reading of novels.
"Now, had the same young lady been engaged with a volume of The Spectator, instead of a work such as Udolpho," said Eleanor, "how proudly would she have produced the book, and told its name! Your open avowal of your enjoyment of Udopho, Catherine, only shows how your honest character disdains the artifice employed by such young ladies."
"Honest character? No, I am afraid I would also be proud of reading The Spectator, but it is too clever and dull for me. But now really, do not you think Udolpho the nicest book in the world?"
"The nicest - by which I suppose you mean the neatest. That must depend upon the binding," remarked Henry.
"Henry," said Miss Tilney, calling Henry to order, "you are very impertinent. Miss Morland, he is treating you exactly as he does his sister. He is forever finding fault with me, for some incorrectness of language, and now he is taking the same liberty with you. The word 'nicest,' as you used it, did not suit him; and you had better change it as soon as you can, or we shall be overpowered with Johnson and Blair all the rest of the way." Anne and Captain Wentworth laughed aloud at the prospect of Henry spouting precise dictionary definitions all the way. "And he is quite capable of doing that!" exclaimed Anne, "I used the word 'superior' in a way he did not quite like, and was plied with exaggerated examples of its correct use all the way, when we were walking back from the library." Eleanor laughed at the recollection of Henry's exaggerated use of the word "superior". Captain Wentworth looked grave; it was clear that Anne enjoyed Henry's humour and that the two were on the friendliest of terms.
"I am sure," cried Catherine, "I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should not I call it so?"
"Very true," said Henry, "and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk, and you are two very nice young ladies. Oh! It is a very nice word indeed! It does for everything. Originally perhaps it was applied only to express neatness, propriety, delicacy, or refinement - people were nice in their dress, in their sentiments, or their choice. But now every commendation on every subject is comprised in that one word."
"While, in fact," cried his sister, "it ought only to be applied to you, without any commendation at all. You are more nice than wise. Come, let us leave him to meditate over our faults in the utmost propriety of diction, while we praise Udolpho in whatever terms we like best. It is a most interesting work. You are fond of that kind of reading?"
"To say the truth, I do not much like any other."
"Indeed!"
"That is, I can read poetry and plays, and things of that sort, and do not dislike travels. But history, real solemn history, I cannot be interested in. Can you, Eleanor? Can you, Anne?"
Yes, I am fond of history," Eleanor replied. "As am I," said Anne.
"I wish I were too. I read it a little as a duty, but it tells me nothing that does not either vex or weary me. The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars or pestilences, in every page; the men all so good for nothing, and hardly any women at all - it is very tiresome: and yet I often think it odd that it should be so dull, for a great deal of it must be invention. The speeches that are put into the heroes' mouths, their thoughts and designs - the chief of all this must be invention, and invention is what delights me in other books."
"Historians, you think," said Miss Tilney, "are not happy in their flights of fancy. I am fond of history - and am very well contented to take the false with the true. In the principal facts they have sources of intelligence in former histories and records, which may be as much depended on, I conclude, as anything that does not actually pass under one's own observation; and as for the little embellishments you speak of, they are embellishments, and I like them as such.."
"I, too, am fond of history," agreed Anne, "for many of the same reasons. If a speech be well drawn up, I read it with pleasure, by whomsoever it may be made - and probably with much greater, if the production of Mr. Hume or Mr. Robertson, than if the genuine words of Caractacus, Agricola, or Alfred the Great. I have not a large circle of friends, and do not travel very far from Kellynch, so history is a means for me to gain an understanding of different worlds and times."
"You are both fond of history! And so are Mr. Allen and my father; and I have two brothers who do not dislike it. So many instances within my small circle of friends is remarkable! At this rate, I shall not pity the writers of history any longer. If people like to read their books, it is all very well; indeed I used always to think that those writers wrote for the sake of tormenting little boys and girls."
"That little boys and girls should be tormented," said Henry, "is what no one at all acquainted with human nature in a civilized state can deny. Captain Wentworth, do you not agree that our most distinguished historians might well be offended at being supposed to have no higher aim than to torment little boys and girls? I use the verb to torment, as I observed Miss Morland's use of it, instead of to instruct supposing them to be now admitted as synonymous." Eleanor attempted a frown at Henry, before shaking her head ruefully at his wilful use of the word.
"With their method and style, they are perfectly well qualified to torment readers of the most advanced reason and mature time of life," replied Captain Wentworth.
"You think me foolish to call instruction a torment, but if you had been as much used as myself to hear poor little children first learning their letters and then learning to spell, if you had ever seen how stupid they can be for a whole morning together, and how tired my poor mother is at the end of it, as I am in the habit of seeing almost every day of my life at home, you would allow that 'to torment' and 'to instruct' might sometimes be used as synonymous words," said Catherine.
"Very probably. But historians are not accountable for the difficulty of learning to read; and even you yourself, who do not altogether seem particularly friendly to very severe, very intense application, may perhaps be brought to acknowledge that it is very well worthwhile to be tormented for two or three years of one's life, for the sake of being able to read all the rest of it. Consider - if reading had not been taught, Mrs. Radcliffe would have written in vain - or perhaps might not have written at all."
Catherine assented - and a very warm panegyric from her on that lady's merits closed the subject. There was soon a change in the grouping of the little party. The Tilneys wandered off with Catherine; the Tilneys were engaged in viewing the country and deciding with the eyes of persons accustomed to drawing, and decided on its capability of being formed into pictures, with all the eagerness of real taste. Catherine was quite lost on the subject, for she knew nothing of drawing - nothing of taste. She was heartily ashamed of her ignorance. A misplaced shame, for ignorance is a great enhancement of the personal charms of young ladies, in particular, in a good-looking girl with an affectionate heart towards a young man who was aware and grateful for her admiration. When she confessed and lamented her want of knowledge, declared that she would give anything in the world to be able to draw; and a lecture on the picturesque immediately followed, in which Henry's instructions were so clear that she soon began to see beauty in everything admired by him, and her attention was so earnest that he became perfectly satisfied of her having a great deal of natural taste. He talked of foregrounds, distances, and second distances - side-screens and perspectives - lights and shades; and Catherine was so hopeful a scholar that when they gained the top of Beechen Cliff, she voluntarily rejected the whole city of Bath as unworthy to make part of a landscape. Henry could only be delighted with her progress; but fearful of wearying her with too much wisdom at once, he suffered the subject to decline.
Anne was walking with Captain Wentworth, unsure of how to introduce the subject of Louisa, about whom she had the liveliest interest, the chief of which was to ascertain Captain Wentworth's feelings on Louisa's engagement to Captain Benwick. But before she could begin, Captain Wentworth spoke of Lyme.
"I have hardly seen you since our day at Lyme," he began, with a conscious look, "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. I was so astonished to learn of the news. 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 or caprice. 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, as you are aware from your discussions of poetry and books with him," Anne was surprised, then gratified, that he had been observing her and Captain Benwick while they were in Lyme; he had not been completely indifferent to her then - he had noticed her sitting by Captain Benwick and appeared to have overheard their conversation!
"I confess," continued Captain Wentworth, unconscious that Anne was in a glow of happiness, "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 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! 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. So much novelty and beauty! I have travelled so little, that every fresh place would be interesting to me; but there is real beauty at Lyme; and in short" (with a faint blush at some recollections), "altogether my impressions of the place are very agreeable." Captain Wentworth noticed her blush, and his thoughts immediately turned to Mr. Elliot; Anne was no doubt recollecting her encounter with Mr. Elliot in Bath and his obvious admiration of her.
"Indeed, by the same measure, my impressions of Bath are improving too," said Anne. "I had formerly disliked it because of my early years in school here, knowing nobody and missing my mother, but now that I have been so fortunate as to make friends with such agreeable people as Catherine and Eleanor, my impressions have changed. In the years I spent in Bath, I have never been at Beechen Cliff and never beheld the beauties of the Somerset countryside from its summit, and in such pleasant company."
"Mr. Tilney accompanies you on your walks? Your walks seem to take you very far, Beechen Cliff is a good hour away from Camden Place."
"Yes, he is often with us, and he is so droll! I was at first confused by his sallies, but it is all in good fun. He teases Catherine sometimes, as you observed, but good-naturedly. She is quite in awe of him and believes him to be the cleverest man. Eleanor is not quite cheerful sometimes, and having him with us raises all our spirits. He is really very clever, and a kind, attentive brother and friend."
By this time, the party had spent enough time at Beechen Cliff and were ready to turn back. Henry and Eleanor wanted Anne's opinion of possible scenes to be painted of Bath, and Captain Wentworth took Catherine on his arm on the way back. There was no further opportunity for Anne to talk to Captain Wentworth, but Anne was not sorry. She had learnt that Captain Wentworth had not been entirely indifferent to her while in Lyme, and that Captain Wentworth's heart was unaffected by Louisa's engagement to Captain Benwick, a point that she had been anxious to ascertain from the moment of her learning of Louisa's engagement.
Chapter 9
Catherine applauded enthusiastically at the end of the second act of the play. It was her first time seeing Romeo and Juliet in the theatre, and she had never imagined that the play, when acted out, could be so enthralling. Even Mr. Allen agreed that it had been particularly well-acted and was praising it in the highest terms. Mrs. Allen, as usual, echoed her husband's opinions and with a few repetitions, adopted them for her own. In addition to the entertainment of the play, Catherine had the pleasure of knowing that Mr. Tilney was to come and pay his respects at the box, as he had caught sight of them from his box at the beginning of the play.
But before Mr. Tilney arrived, Catherine was surprised by Captain Wentworth arriving at their box. "Oh! I did not see you just now, Captain Wentworth. You had not mentioned that you were coming to the theatre tonight, when we were walking along Beechen Cliff."
"And I did not know then that I was to come here," replied Captain Wentworth, "My sister and the Admiral were unexpectedly offered a box for the play tonight, and my sister invited me as I have never been to the Theatre Royal."
Catherine introduced Captain Wentworth to the Allens, and they sat there conversing very politely. "And what do you think of the play? Is it not such a nice play?" asked Catherine.
"My dear Miss Morland! Romeo and Juliet is anything but nice, unless, of course, you mean that Shakespeare was nice in his choice of words?" Henry and Eleanor had made their way to the Allens' box.
Eleanor smiled and said, "Catherine, I wonder at your temerity in using the word "nice" in Henry's hearing, after his strictures this morning. But it was very well-acted, without the excessive melodrama that I had seen in another production in London. In that production, Romeo and Juliet suffered such convulsions and fits before the poison claimed their lives, that I was hard pressed to contain my laughter. Here the actors have restraint and the pathos of the lovers is so well conveyed, I am looking forward to the final tragic scene."
"It is a pity that Miss Elliot is not here," observed Henry, "or our party will be just as it was this morning."
"Anne has a dinner party at home, Henry, she told us of it this morning," reminded Eleanor.
"Yes, I know," said Henry "Sir Walter and Miss Elizabeth Elliot are having a small card party with close friends and family, with Mr. Elliot, Lady Dalrymple and her daughter, the Wallises, and the Wilmings. Miss Elliot envied us going to the theatre, she does not like cards, you know; she has nothing to do for the party, for Miss Elizabeth Elliot runs everything with Mrs. Clay's help, and she has to endure an entire evening of chatter about nothing with people she does not know well."
"Well, Anne said that it was fortunate that Mr. Elliot is to be of the party tonight, for he and Anne are good friends. She said that she may always find pleasure in conversing with him, when she is wearied of attempting to converse with the others," said Eleanor. Captain Wentworth looked quickly at Henry, who looked quite unconcerned at the mention of Mr. Elliot and Anne being very good friends. "I often think Anne and I share similar thoughts and ideas because we have similar histories, growing up without our mother," continued Eleanor, "Anne's mother died when she was only fourteen, and while Lady Russell has been very kind to her, Anne has said she misses the companionship and guidance that only a mother can provide."
Catherine listened attentively at this news, for she had not heard Anne mention that her mother had died when she was only fourteen. Catherine had known that Eleanor's mother had died of a bilious fever when Eleanor was thirteen, and that even the best doctors summoned to Northanger Abbey from London could not save her. Henry had talked of the sudden death of their mother, and how poor Eleanor had not been able to arrive in time to be with their mother at the very last. Eleanor had mentioned that it was fortunate that Henry and Frederick had been home the whole time, and had provided the greatest comfort to their mother. Catherine thought that General Tilney must have been inconsolable at Mrs. Tilney's death, for he ordered portraits of her to be placed in all the principal rooms of Northanger Abbey, so that the memory of her would never fade from the Abbey. This affecting idea of the General's great affliction often excited Catherine's imagination and she thought he must be the most tender-hearted man. But what of Sir Walter? Had he been as affected by his wife's early death as General Tilney had been? Catherine had some doubts as to the matter. Catherine had always considered Sir Walter to be a very reserved man with cold, uninviting matters. He seemed only to take pleasure in speaking with his cousins, the Dalrymples. Whenever he joined their group when Anne was with them, Anne seemed to become less communicative; certainly his presence made the group more restrained, indeed, his coming usually broke up their pleasant conversation. Catherine wondered whether such a man could have felt much sorrow at the loss of a wife.
"I had not known that Anne had lost her mother too when she was so young," Catherine said, unwilling to let the subject drop. "Well, you know that Anne had gone to school here in Bath," said Eleanor, "She was at school when the death of her mother occurred, hence she has formed no favourable impressions of Bath, for she associates it with the difficult years when she missed her mother the most."
Captain Wentworth listened in silence. He knew of Anne's dislike of Bath, but he had also learned that morning that Anne was more favourably disposed towards Bath because of the new friends she had made, and - possibly - because of the presence of Mr. Elliot. "Miss Elliot has suffered greatly as a result of the loss of her mother," he said quietly, "She seldom speaks of it, but she suffers great regret about not being with her mother at her last moments."
"I imagine Sir Walter was greatly affected by her death? And what was Lady Elliot like? Was Anne with her when she died - no, she was at school - but what of Elizabeth? Or, Anne's other sister....was anyone with her other than Sir Walter?" Catherine wondered out loud.
Henry looked at her in amusement. "No one was with her, Miss Morland, except for Sir Walter," he replied, "It was a dark and stormy night. The winds were howling around Kellynch Hall, everyone in the Hall talking in hushed whispers because the gloominess of the master had infected all. A violent storm broke out, and peals of thunder rang around. Despite the heavy rain, the doctor went in to see Lady Elliot, but his cadaverous appearance did not bode well for the patient. He was conducted to Lady Elliot's chamber by the faithful but grim-faced Dorothy. As he walked up the stairs, he caught a glimpse of a young woman, but could not be certain. There were no young ladies at home, as far as he knew. But he was certain he had heard someone - or something - but Dorothy hurried him to continue his way to Lady Elliot's bedchamber." Before he could continue, Captain Wentworth took up the story, "On examining her, he could find nothing wrong with the patient, yet she was emaciated and her condition worsened by the hour. What could it be? Poison, of course! Just as the deadly poison consumed the lives of Romeo and Juliet, so it appeared at Kellynch Hall. Lady Elliot's appearance resembled that of one who had been poisoned with the Devil's Foot, a rare poison from the darkness of Africa, but the doctor could not think of anyone in England who could possess that poison, unless -- "
"And who was it that possessed the poison?" cried Catherine, before recollecting herself and blushing. Captain Wentworth was too amused to continue, and Henry laughed delightedly. "You have been reading Mrs. Radcliffe's works too, I see, Captain Wentworth?"
"Yes, I procured Udolpho this afternoon after our excursion to Beechen Cliff. I resolved to read it after hearing you discuss it this morning - it seemed a most curious work. I read it in one sitting, my flesh crawling at several turns, I could not put it down; Mrs. Radcliffe has great power to hold one's attention. But I hope I have not startled you, Miss Morland?"
Catherine disclaimed guiltily (because she had really secretly begun to wonder about the circumstances of Lady Elliot's death); the intermission was almost over, the Tilneys and Captain Wentworth left.
Captain Wentworth went back to Gay Street with the Crofts after the play, but soon left them to take a solitary walk in the cool night air. He had heard and seen much to think about. Anne was clearly on very good terms with the Tilneys, but he could not ascertain whether Henry admired Anne. It was also impossible to dislike Henry, with his excellent manners and liveliness which secured him a favourable impression everywhere.
Chapter 10
Catherine, looking up, perceived Captain Tilney; and Isabella, earnestly fixing her eye on him as she spoke, soon caught his notice. He approached immediately, and took the seat to which her movements invited him. His first address to Isabella made Catherine start. Though spoken low, she could distinguish, "What! Always to be watched by proxy! Am I never to speak with you alone!"
"Psha, nonsense!" was Isabella's answer in the same half whisper. "Catherine is not watching us -- my spirit, you know, is pretty independent."
"I wish your heart were independent. That would be enough for me."
"My heart, indeed! What can you have to do with hearts? You men have none of you any hearts."
"If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give us torment enough."
"Do they? I am sorry for it; I am sorry they find anything so disagreeable in me. I will look another way. I hope this pleases you" (turning her back on him); "I hope your eyes are not tormented now."
"Never more so; for the edge of a blooming cheek is still in view, though the half is charmingly hidden by the bonnet - at once too much and too little."
Catherine heard all this, and quite out of countenance, could listen no longer. Amazed that Isabella could endure it, and jealous for her brother, she rose up, and saying she should join Mrs. Allen, proposed their walking. But for this Isabella showed no inclination. She was so amazingly tired, and it was so odious to parade about the Pump Room; and if she moved from her seat she should miss her sisters; she was expecting her sisters every moment; so that her dearest Catherine must excuse her, and must sit quietly down again. But Catherine could be stubborn too; she left to join Mrs. Allen at the other end of the room, Isabella still sitting with Captain Tilney. With much uneasiness did she thus leave them. It seemed to her Isabella's attachment to James was wavering because of his absence from Bath, but Isabella proclaimed her tenderness at every turn. To doubt her truth or good intentions was impossible; and yet, she had looked so pleased at the sight of Captain Tilney. How strange that she should not perceive his admiration! Catherine longed to give her a hint of it, to put her on her guard, and prevent all the pain which her too lively behaviour might otherwise create both for him and her brother.
"Catherine, what are you thinking of so intently?" Catherine was interrupted from her troubling thoughts by Anne's approach.
"Oh Anne! I was just thinking about Isabella - she misses James, and I wonder if a long engagement, such as they are obliged to enter into, can be a good thing?"
Anne smiled inwardly - Catherine could have no idea that Anne had suffered through the same arguments and exhortations against a long engagement. "To begin without knowing that at such a time there will be the means of marrying, that cannot be wise. But Catherine, that is not the case here, for your parents have given their consent and will give all the assistance they can on James being ordained. There is no long, uncertain wait in this instance."
"Yes, and my parents have been most kind, and yet, I wonder if Isabella - Captain Tilney has been paying her many attentions."
"I have also observed that, but consider Catherine, if Isabella and James are truly in love, their hearts are opened to each other in a way we cannot know. Would your brother thank you, either on his own account or Miss Thorpe's, for supposing that her affection, or at least her good behaviour, is only to be secured by her seeing nothing of Captain Tilney and being safely married to him? Can he think that her heart is constant to him only when unsolicited by anyone else? He cannot think this - and you may be sure that he would not have you think it. I will not say, 'Do not be uneasy,' because I know that you are so, at this moment; but be as little uneasy as you can. You have no doubt of the mutual attachment of your brother and your friend; depend upon it, therefore, that Isabella knows exactly what is required and what can be borne."
Catherine sighed. "And," said Anne, "Eleanor told me that Captain Tilney's leave of absence will soon expire, and he must return to his regiment. And what will then be their acquaintance? Isabella will laugh with your brother over poor Captain Tilney's ill-fated passion for a month and that will be the end of it."
Catherine was comforted, Anne was wise and must know best. She blamed herself for the extent of her fears, and resolved never to think so seriously on the subject again. "We missed you at the play yesterday," she said, content to drop the subject. "Mr. Tilney was saying that we only wanted you to make the party just as it was during our excursion to Beechen Cliff, for Captain Wentworth was there last night too."
Captain Wentworth had been at the play - while she had been endeavouring to entertain guests at Camden Place, and enduring hours of wearying conversation in "good company", which, according to Mr. Elliot, "required only birth, education, and manners, and with regard to education was not very nice" - the only point on which Anne was in agreement with Mr. Elliot was that any company at Camden Place that would distract Sir Walter's attention away from Mrs. Clay's insinuating attentions was to be desired.
"Captain Wentworth is an old acquaintance of yours, Anne? He appeared to have known you for many years, for he mentioned your school days at Bath and your being at school when your mother took ill."
"I knew Captain Wentworth many years ago, but our acquaintance has lapsed for some years."
"But there's Mr. Tilney and Eleanor, Anne, let's walk over there, they do not perceive us," exclaimed Catherine as she caught sight of the Tilneys.
When they joined the Tilneys, Catherine could not help bringing up the subject of Lady Elliot again. "And so I learnt from Captain Wentworth yesterday, of your mother's death when you were but fourteen, Anne," she said. "Were you with her at the very last?"
"No," said Anne, sighing, "I was unfortunately from home. Her illness was sudden and short; and, before I arrived from Bath, it was all over. Poor Mary was also at school, and Elizabeth was visiting in London; they had no indication that her illness would deteriorate so rapidly. She had been ill the summer before, but it was not thought to be serious; she took ill again unexpectedly, and the end was very sudden."
Catherine's blood ran cold with the horrid suggestions which naturally sprang from these words. Could it be possible? No one was with Lady Elliot at Kellynch! Could it be as Captain Wentworth had suggested last night - could it be an unknown poison? Could Anne's father - ? And yet how many were the examples to justify even the blackest suspicions! She recalled the day when she had visited Anne in the evening - while Anne and her were conversing, Sir Walter was slowly pacing the drawing-room for an hour together in silent thoughtfulness, with downcast eyes and contracted brow, making no attempt to join in the conversation. It was the air and attitude of a man wracked by guilt! What could more plainly speak the gloomy workings of a mind not wholly dead to every sense of humanity, in its fearful review of past scenes of guilt? Unhappy man! Catherine had not been able to direct her eyes towards his pacing figure repeatedly, that Anne had noticed and whispered, "My father often walks about the room in this way; it is nothing unusual." Catherine had felt great discomfort in Sir Walter's behaviour, and was relieved when the visit came to an end.
"And his behaviour towards Anne - Anne never speaks openly when he is about," reflected Catherine, "can she have any suspicions?" The party being silent after Anne's account of her mother's death, Catherine ventured to say, "Her death must have been a great affliction!"
"A great and increasing one," replied the other, in a low voice. "I was only fourteen when it happened; and though I felt my loss perhaps as strongly as one so young could feel it, I did not, I could not, then know what a loss it was." She stopped for a moment, and then added, with great firmness, "I have two sisters, you know, but Mary has her own family now and Elizabeth is busy with her numerous duties at Kellynch, and though Lady Russell is most kind, it is impossible for me not to be often solitary."
Eleanor pressed Anne's hand, and thought how fortunate she was that Henry was often at Northanger Abbey to keep her company.
"To be sure you must miss her very much," said Catherine. "Was she a very charming woman? Was she handsome? Was there any picture of her in Kellynch? Had she ever accompanied Sir Walter to Bath" - were questions now eagerly poured forth; Catherine's interest in the deceased Lady Elliot augmented with every question, whether answered or not. Of her unhappiness in marriage, she felt persuaded. Sir Walter certainly had been an unkind husband - Sir Walter was more engrossed in his personal appearance and in conversing with Mrs. Clay than with Anne, he could not have been a devoted husband.
"Her picture, I suppose," said Catherine blushing at the consummate art of her own question, "hangs in your father's room?"
"No; it was intended for the drawing-room; but my father was dissatisfied with the painting, and for some time it had no place. Soon after her death I obtained it for my own, and hung it in my bed-chamber; it is very like." Here was another proof. A portrait - very like - of a departed wife, not valued by the husband! He could not have loved her -- he must have been dreadfully cruel to her!
Catherine attempted no longer to hide from herself the nature of the feelings which Sir Walter had previously excited; what had been dislike before, was now absolute aversion. Yes, aversion! His cruelty to such a charming woman made him odious to her. She had often read of such characters, characters which Mr. Allen had been used to call unnatural and overdrawn; but here was proof positive of the contrary. She wondered that Eleanor and Henry did not share her suspicions.
Chapter 11
Catherine's suspicions occupied her greatly; she tossed and turned about her bed, and finally fell asleep at midnight. The next morning, when the sun poured into her chamber, she began to doubt her suspicions - yet the circumstances all spoke against Sir Walter! Alone with his wife, a wife whom he could not have loved, what opportunities were there to commit the black deed - and his restlessness and coldheartedness -- Catherine did not think he was very kind to Anne. Catherine was debating her next step, when the Tilneys came to call on her for their walk in the Sydney Gardens. Anne was to visit Lady Russell and could not accompany them that day.
"It is such a fine morning, Catherine; I wish we could go for a longer walk, but our father expects us home later today to accompany him to Bath Abbey," said Eleanor.
"And so we thought we would take a stroll about Sydney Gardens," said Henry, "although I am sure, Miss Morland, you would prefer to wander about the Royal Crescent, and surmise on explanations for the ghostly sightings in the gardens - a duellist going to his death? A gentleman ambushed by a rival while on his way to meet his lover?" Henry teased.
Catherine did not hear, for she had been deep in thought. "I have been wondering a great deal about Anne's mother," said Catherine hesitantly, "That is -- no, not much, but what Anne did say, was very interesting. Lady Elliot's dying so suddenly," (slowly, and with firmness when it was spoken, for Catherine had at last resolved to voice her suspicions to Eleanor and Henry) "and none of her children being at home -- and Sir Walter, I thought -- perhaps had not been very fond of her. I wondered whether the circumstance of no one being with Lady Elliot - that perhaps Anne did not know -- "
"And from these circumstances," Henry replied, (his quick eye fixed on hers,) "you infer perhaps the probability of some negligence -- some -- (involuntarily she shook her head) -- or it may be -- of something still less pardonable." Eleanor was bewildered. "How do you mean, Catherine? Has Anne spoken a great deal to you about the circumstances of her mother's death?"
Catherine did not speak, but raised her eyes towards Henry more fully than she had ever done before. "I have not personal knowledge of the circumstances of Lady Elliot's decease," Henry said, "But I have heard Lady Russell, who is acquainted with my father, speak of the circumstances of Lady Elliot's death. Lady Russell is a great friend of Lady Elliot's, you know that Miss Elliot has said that she has been like a mother to her. Lady Russell mentioned that Lady Elliot died of a kidney complaint, a complaint that her physician was well aware of. That physician is a very respectable man, one on whom Lady Russell and Lady Elliot place the greatest confidence. Upon his opinion of her danger, he asked for Sir Percy Knighton, the eminent practitioner, to be sent down from London. As soon as she could be prevailed on, Sir Percy attended on her, and remained in almost constant attendance for four-and-twenty hours, but she died the next day. During the progress of her disorder, Lady Russell saw her repeatedly; and must have ensured that she received every possible attention which could spring from the affection of those about her, or which her situation in life could command. I know that poor Miss Elliot was absent, and that none of Lady Elliot's children could return in time for her last moments."
"But Sir Walter," objected Catherine, "was he afflicted? It would have been very shocking if he had not been attached to her! "
"Whether Sir Walter was afflicted -- that I cannot know, Miss Morland," said Henry seriously, "But if I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to -- -- Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are English, that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you -- Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing; where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay every thing open? Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?"
"Catherine, surely you were not forming suspicions that Sir Walter -- ", exclaimed Eleanor, when she understood what Catherine had been hinting at. Eleanor was not of mean understanding, but the enormity of Catherine's suspicions had been inadmissible to her mind. They reached a bench, and Catherine sat down, tears blinding her eyes with the full realization of her folly. Her folly, which now seemed even criminal, was all exposed to Henry and his sister, and they must despise her forever. The absurdity of her curiosity and her fears--could they ever be forgotten? She had lost their regard. She hated herself more than she could express.
Henry and Eleanor stood a little aside, uncertain of how to approach Catherine. Eleanor went to sit by Catherine and took her hand, "Dear Catherine, your imagination is very wonderful but yet you must also allow for our being a civilized society -- " Before Eleanor could continue, Catherine interrupted her eagerly, "Oh! Do not misunderstand my tears, they are not tears of resentment at you or Mr. Tilney, I am only very ashamed of having entertained such unwarranted, such stupid ideas! How astute I thought myself, in being able to penetrate the dark secrets of another's heart! My extravagant imagination! I have been wanting to frighten myself ever since I read Udolpho. The mischief had long been planted, and I was only wanting to see everything in circumstances importing nothing. The folly of my mind -- if only this does not lead you, or Mr. Tilney to despise -- "
"No, Miss Morland, you must make yourself easy on that account." Henry cut off Catherine's berating of herself, "I am sorry that I distressed you so - but you must realize that charming as Mrs. Radcliffe's works are, and charming even as were the works of all her imitators, it was not in them perhaps that human nature, at least in the counties of England, was to be looked for. Of the Alps and Pyrenees, with their pine forests and their vices, they might give a faithful delineation; and Italy, Switzerland, and the south of France might be as fruitful in horrors as they were there represented. But in England there is surely some security for the existence even of a wife not beloved, in the laws of the land which values the rule of law, and the manners of the age. Murder is not tolerated, servants are not slaves, and neither poison nor sleeping potions are to be procured, like rhubarb, from every druggist."
With that remark, Henry had done. He was genuinely sorry that Catherine's tranquillity had been upset, and did all in his power to put her at ease. Henry and Eleanor's soothing conversation and attention soon restored Catherine's equanimity. They continued to walk about the park, Eleanor praising the beauties of the gardens.
"I know you would like the gardens now, with hyacinths in full bloom," said Henry.
"Are they your favourite flowers, Eleanor?" asked Catherine. "Yes," replied Eleanor, "I love them for their beauty and their meaning, for they signify constancy."
"Well, I never thought about them before, but now that I know they signify constancy, I will learn to love them too," said Catherine. Eleanor looked at Henry, who was looking at Catherine admiring the hyacinths.
Catherine's mind was made up on several points: never to use Mrs. Radcliffe's works as a study of human character and always to judge and act in future with the greatest good sense. Her resolutions formed, she had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever; and the lenient hand of time did the rest. Henry's astonishing generosity and nobleness of conduct, in never alluding in the slightest way to what had passed, was of the greatest assistance to her; and sooner than she could have supposed it possible in the beginning of her distress, her spirits became absolutely comfortable, and capable, as heretofore, of continual improvement by anything he said.
They parted, agreeing that it would the most delightful thing to meet up with Anne at the evening concert to hear Signorina Corellini sing.
Chapter 12
The Tilneys were some of the earliest arrivals at the concert rooms. General Tilney was very fond of singing, and was discussing the merits of Signorina Corellini's voice with Eleanor. Henry looked around; perceiving Anne enter the room with her family, he immediately went up to greet them.
"I hope you had a pleasant day with Lady Russell today?" inquired Henry. "We walked about Sydney Gardens; it was but a short walk, but the gardens are beautiful this time of the year."
"I went to sit with Lady Russell this morning, to hear about her rout party yesterday," Anne said. "Then I went to visit my music instructor; she had taught me when I was at school in Bath. She is retired now, and lives very quietly just outside Bath."
While they were conversing easily, the door opened again, and Captain Wentworth walked into the room. Anne saw him instantly, and her eyes beckoned him to her side. However, he had also seen Sir Walter and Elizabeth in the background, and was preparing only to bow and pass on. Anne could not bear to lose the opportunity of speaking with him again, and immediately moved to speak with him. Her gentle "How do you do?" brought him out of the straight line to stand near her and Henry, and make enquiries in return, in spite of the formidable father and sister.
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.
Captain Wentworth noticed that Anne was looking particularly well; she seemed inclined for conversation. Mr. Tilney, too, was his usual lively self, and was speaking with uncommon energy on the upcoming performance by Signorina Corellini.
"I heard her last year here in Bath also, Miss Elliot, with the greatest pleasure; without doubt, Signorina Corellini is one of the greatest lyric coloratura sopranos that Europe has ever produced," praised Henry. "Eleanor and my father are both very fond of Italian singing, and are looking forward to this concert greatly."
"As am I," said Anne, "I do not often have the opportunity to attend concerts; to be here, to listen to such a great voice as Signorina Corellini's, is a rare pleasure! Her voice celebrated all through Europe - I have heard that one's pity cannot help but be stirred despite the hackneyed love phrases in some of the Italian songs she is performing. Moreover, I am in the mood for singing, for Italian singing, in particular. "
Captain Wentworth did not have a great knowledge of singing, and was not best pleased that Henry shared Anne's delight in Italian singing so wholeheartedly and was able to converse so knowledgeably with Anne. He looked at Henry gravely, this young man was too generally pleasing for his taste, he decided. To be able to adapt his conversation to the taste of every body, to have the power as well as the wish of being universally agreeable - no, these were not merits with Captain Wentworth. To Anne, Henry could speak of Italian singing and novels; to the Captain, he could talk of sailing; he had that general information on all subjects which happily enabled him to follow the lead, or take the lead, just as propriety required, and to speak extremely well on each subject -- to Captain Wentworth, seeing Anne smile and talk happily with Henry, he was the most insufferable fellow breathing!
Quite unaware of the indignation that he was exciting, Henry addressed Captain Wentworth. "And you, Captain Wentworth, are you fond of singing? After all my raptures on Signorina Corellini, I must confess that much as I enjoy a concert, I become weary after a while and cannot help but look about the room to see if there is anything to distract me. Only true musicians like you, Miss Elliot, can listen without weariness," he said, bowing gallantly.
Captain Wentworth answered shortly, "No, I do not like Italian singing very much; I only came as my sister said I could not come to Bath and not hear the great Corellini."
Anne looked at him in some surprise and consternation; he had not answered like himself, he seemed almost abrupt and appeared to be in an ill humour. He was changed from the afternoon when they had spoken about the events at Lyme, and even spoken about Louisa and Captain Benwick's attachment. Before Anne could say anything, Catherine walked in with the Allens, and Anne was obliged to join the others in greeting Catherine.
Catherine could not look at Anne without remembering the transgressions of her imagination, and could not avoid a blush of the deepest consciousness. Catherine stole a glance at Henry; he, perceiving her blush, knew that she was remembering that, and took pity on her. He steered the conversation towards their walk that afternoon and the upcoming concert, and talked so well that Catherine soon recovered.
Captain Wentworth observed Henry's attentions to Catherine and the expressive looks between them, and his indignation grew. He began to suspect Henry of double-dealing with Catherine and Anne, and wondered that Anne could be wholly unsuspicious of Henry's warm regard for Catherine. That insufferable puppy was trifling with Anne and Catherine - no - he could not endure that. He resolved to raise his suspicions with Anne, for her sake, he had to warn her of Henry's duplicity; he was unwilling to acknowledge that, for his sake, he would give anything to ascertain that Anne's affections were not engaged.
The entrance door opened again, and the very party appeared for whom the Elliots were waiting. Lady Dalrymple and her daughter Miss Carteret walked in, and with all the eagerness compatible with anxious elegance, Sir Walter and Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay stepped forward to meet her. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret, escorted by Mr Elliot and Colonel Wallis, who had happened to arrive nearly at the same instant, advanced into the room. The others joined them, and it was a group in which Anne found herself also necessarily included. She was divided from Captain Wentworth. Mr. Elliot made his way to her side, and gave her all his attention.
"My cousin Anne must be looking forward to this concert," he began smilingly, "I know your musical tastes, this must rank as a very high pleasure with you."
"Yes, I am looking forward very much to this concert," she replied at random, thinking about Captain Wentworth's changed manner. She had to speak with him again, she had to find out the cause of his changed attitude. During their walk on Beechen Cliff, she thought that he had been at pains to point out his indifference to Louisa - and yet, could she have thought that only because she wished it? She must renew their conversation. Before Mr. Elliot could continue, she said, "I have not been able to speak with Eleanor yet, would you be so good as to escort me to her side?"
Anne went up to Eleanor, who was of the party that Captain Wentworth was in. After the usual civilities, Anne, not without a little scheming, stood a little apart with Captain Wentworth while Mr. Elliot conversed with General Tilney.
"Have you had any news from Captain Benwick?" she began.
"No, I have not heard from him since last week, when he wrote of Miss Musgrove's rapid recovery," he replied. "I expect that their nuptials will be announced shortly, when all the preparations are ready. With parents eager to promote the happiness of their daughter, I cannot imagine that they have much to wait for. Their attachment, though unexpected, appears to be very strong and I wish them all happiness."
Anne was satisfied. This was not the language of a resentful man; no, Captain Wentworth was indeed fully recovered from any warm feelings he might have felt towards Louisa. "Mary's letter said that Louisa is changed now, she is not as lively as she used to be", Anne said. "I hope this is only a temporary effect from her accident, and that she will recover all her spirits soon. Mary thinks this accident has affected her character - she prefers to sit and read silently all day now, something which she never did formerly. But perhaps it is Captain Benwick who is changing her tastes."
"Miss Musgrove is a lively woman but Benwick is much more, he is a reading, thinking man - they will fill gaps in each other's character. She will make him more lively, and he will teach her to appreciate activities she never enjoyed before."
"Perhaps it is that which was the attraction - their opposite natures," Anne said, smilingly.
"I still wonder at the rapidity of their attachment - if it had 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, a grateful heart can do wonders, but I cannot think he would forget Fanny Harville so quickly - you did not see him when the news of her death was broken to him, we feared for his sanity. A man like him, he could not have forgotten one who had loved him so well, so constantly."
Anne's spirits were all aflutter, she did not know what to say, but wanted to continue the subject. "Perhaps you are right, it was the effect of gratitude. I see an example of that here," Anne said, looking at Henry and Catherine who were standing together, "I believe Mr. Tilney and Catherine will make a match of it - she clearly admires him and I believe his affection for her originated in his gratitude."
Captain Wentworth underwent a change from depressed spirits to relief and joy. How could he have doubted that Anne, with her keen powers of observation and understanding, did not perceive the attachment between Henry and Catherine? Anne did not care for Henry at all. Henry was not such a bad fellow after all, no, he was a very pleasant, knowledgeable young man. Smiling more easily than he had all evening, he said, "You have seen it too. I believe them to be well-suited to each other. There is so much unpretending good humour and unaffectedness on both sides, I have not the slightest doubt of their happiness. Is their attachment generally known?"
Before Anne could answer, Mr. Elliot came up and requested the honour of escorting her into the concert, which was about to begin. Their interesting, almost too interesting conversation must be broken up for a time, but slight was the penance compared with the happiness which brought it on! She had learnt, in the last ten minutes, more of his feelings towards Louisa, more of all his feelings than she dared to think of; and she gave herself up to the demands of the party, to the needful civilities of the moment, with exquisite, though agitated sensations. She was in good humour with all. She had received ideas which disposed her to be courteous and kind to all, and to pity every one, as being less happy than herself.
She looked around quickly when she was settled in her seat; she was just in time to see Captain Wentworth turn into the concert room. He was gone; he had disappeared from her sight, she felt a moment's regret. But "they should meet again. He would look for her, he would find her out before the evening were over, and at present, perhaps, it was as well to be asunder. She was in need of a little interval for recollection."
Anne saw nothing, thought nothing of the brilliancy of the room. Her happiness was from within. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks glowed; but she knew nothing about it. She was thinking only of the last half hour, and as they passed to their seats, her mind took a hasty range over 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 first, strong attachment; his half averted eyes and more than half expressive glance, 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. She could not contemplate the change as implying less. He must love her.
The party was divided and disposed of on two contiguous benches: Anne was among those on the foremost, and Mr Elliot had manoeuvred 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's mind was in a most favourable state for the entertainment of the evening; it was just occupation enough: she had feelings for the tender, spirits for the gay, attention for the scientific, and patience for the wearisome; and had never liked a concert better, at least during the first act. Towards the close of it, in the interval succeeding an Italian song, she explained the words of the song to Mr Elliot. They had a concert bill between them.
"This," said she, "is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the words, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be talked of, but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not pretend to understand the language. I am a very poor Italian scholar."
"Yes, yes, I see you are. I see you know nothing of the matter. You have only knowledge enough of the language to translate at sight these inverted, transposed, curtailed Italian lines, into clear, comprehensible, elegant English. You need not say anything more of your ignorance. Here is complete proof."
"I will not oppose such kind politeness; but I should be sorry to be examined by a real proficient."
"I have not had the pleasure of visiting in Camden Place so long," replied he, "without knowing something of Miss Anne Elliot; and I do regard her as one who is too modest for the world in general to be aware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for modesty to be natural in any other woman."
"For shame! for shame! this is too much flattery. I forget what we are to have next," turning to the bill.
"Perhaps," said Mr Elliot, speaking low, "I have had a longer acquaintance with your character than you are aware of."
"Indeed! How so? You can have been acquainted with it only since I came to Bath, excepting as you might hear me previously spoken of in my own family."
"I knew you by report long before you came to Bath. I had heard you described by those who knew you intimately. I have been acquainted with you by character many years. Your person, your disposition, accomplishments, manner; they were all present to me."
Mr Elliot was not disappointed in the interest he hoped to raise. 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; and Anne was all curiosity. She wondered, and questioned him eagerly; but in vain. He delighted in being asked, but he would not tell.
"No, no, some time or other, perhaps, but not now. He would mention no names now; but such, he could assure her, had been the fact. He had many years ago received such a description of Miss Anne Elliot as had inspired him with the highest idea of her merit, and excited the warmest curiosity to know her."
Anne could think of no one so likely to have spoken with partiality of her many years ago as the Mr. Wentworth of Monkford, Captain Wentworth's brother. He might have been in Mr Elliot's company; she did not have the courage to ask the question, but her inquiring looks led Mr. Elliot to relent.
"The name of Anne Elliot," said he, "has long had an interesting sound to me. Do you recall a Mr. Wentworth, who had formerly been a curate at Monkford? I believe he must be a relation of Captain Wentworth."
Anne nodded consciously. Her suspicions were right, it had indeed been Captain Wentworth's brother who had spoken so highly of her. She longed to know what he had said to Mr. Elliot. "How did you come to know him?"
"He was curate for a year in a village near Bath, and my wife's family was acquainted with him. He spoke most highly of your merits. Your name has very long possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I dared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change."
Such, she believed, were his words; but scarcely had she received their sound, than her attention was caught by other sounds immediately behind her, which rendered every thing else trivial. Her father and Lady Dalrymple were speaking.
"A well-looking man," said Sir Walter, "a very well-looking man."
"A very fine young man indeed! Such upright bearing and such a countenance!" said Lady Dalrymple. "More air than one often sees in Bath. Irish, I dare say."
"No, I just know his name. A bowing acquaintance. Wentworth; Captain Wentworth of the navy. His sister married my tenant in Somersetshire, the Croft, who rents Kellynch."
Before Sir Walter had reached this point, 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 on him, his seemed to be withdrawn from her. It had that appearance. It seemed as if she had been one moment too late; and as long as she dared observe, he did not look again: but the performance was recommencing, and she was forced to seem to restore her attention to the orchestra and look straight forward.
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 when he wanted to be talking on such subjects. She wished him not so near her. Lady Russell had been right, it was not Elizabeth who drew Mr. Elliot to Camden Place, it appeared that his wishes were focused on 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 the opportunity. She was persuaded by Lady Russell's countenance that she had seen him.
He did not come however. Anne sometimes fancied she discerned him at a distance, but he never came. The anxious interval wore away unproductively. The others returned, the room filled again, benches were reclaimed and repossessed, and another hour of pleasure or of penance was to be sat out, another hour of music was to give delight or the gapes, as real or affected taste for it prevailed. To Anne, it chiefly wore the prospect of an hour of agitation. She could not quit that room in peace without seeing Captain Wentworth once more, without the interchange of one friendly look. She looked for the Tilneys and Catherine in the crowd, in the hopes of seeing Captain Wentworth with them, but could not find them.
Captain Wentworth did not go to Anne. He had seen her in a deep, intimate conversation with Mr. Elliot, he recalled the general expectation that Anne and Mr. Elliot were to marry, and lost the heart to approach her.
In re-settling themselves there were now many changes, the result of which was favourable for Anne. 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 reach of a passer-by. An early abdication in her next neighbours left Anne 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 change was indubitable. 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 began by speaking of the concert gravely, more like the Captain Wentworth of Uppercross; owned himself wearied of the programme; and in short, must confess that he should not be sorry when it was over. Anne replied, and spoke in defense of the performance so well, and 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 Anne 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 this song worth staying for?" said Anne, suddenly struck by an idea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging.
"No!" he replied resolutely, "there is nothing worth my staying for;" and he was gone directly.
Jealousy of Mr Elliot! It was the only intelligible motive. Captain Wentworth jealous of her affection! Could she have believed it a week ago; three hours ago! For a moment the gratification was exquisite. But, alas! there were very different thoughts to succeed. How was such jealousy to be quieted? How was the truth to reach him? How, in all the peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations, would he ever learn of her real sentiments? It was misery to think of Mr Elliot's attentions. Their evil was incalculable.