Persuasion
“It was at Gibraltar, mother, I know. Dick had been left ill at
Gibraltar, with a recommendation from his former captain to Captain
Wentworth.”
“Oh! but, Charles, tell Captain Wentworth, he need not be afraid of
mentioning poor Dick before me, for it would be rather a pleasure to
hear him talked of by such a good friend.”
Charles, being somewhat more mindful of the probabilities of the case,
only nodded in reply, and walked away.
The girls were now hunting for the Laconia; and Captain Wentworth could
not deny himself the pleasure of taking the precious volume into his
own hands to save them the trouble, and once more read aloud the little
statement of her name and rate, and present non-commissioned class,
observing over it that she too had been one of the best friends man
ever had.
“Ah! those were pleasant days when I had the Laconia! How fast I made
money in her. A friend of mine and I had such a lovely cruise together
off the Western Islands. Poor Harville, sister! You know how much he
wanted money: worse than myself. He had a wife. Excellent fellow. I
shall never forget his happiness. He felt it all, so much for her sake.
I wished for him again the next summer, when I had still the same luck
in the Mediterranean.”
“And I am sure, Sir,” said Mrs Musgrove, “it was a lucky day for _us_,
when you were put captain into that ship. _We_ shall never forget what
you did.”
Her feelings made her speak low; and Captain Wentworth, hearing only in
part, and probably not having Dick Musgrove at all near his thoughts,
looked rather in suspense, and as if waiting for more.
“My brother,” whispered one of the girls; “mamma is thinking of poor
Richard.”
“Poor dear fellow!” continued Mrs Musgrove; “he was grown so steady,
and such an excellent correspondent, while he was under your care! Ah!
it would have been a happy thing, if he had never left you. I assure
you, Captain Wentworth, we are very sorry he ever left you.”
There was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth’s face at this
speech, a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome
mouth, which convinced Anne, that instead of sharing in Mrs Musgrove’s
kind wishes, as to her son, he had probably been at some pains to get
rid of him; but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to
be detected by any who understood him less than herself; in another
moment he was perfectly collected and serious, and almost instantly
afterwards coming up to the sofa, on which she and Mrs Musgrove were
sitting, took a place by the latter, and entered into conversation with
her, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with so much sympathy and
natural grace, as shewed the kindest consideration for all that was
real and unabsurd in the parent’s feelings.
They were actually on the same sofa, for Mrs Musgrove had most readily
made room for him; they were divided only by Mrs Musgrove. It was no
insignificant barrier, indeed. Mrs Musgrove was of a comfortable,
substantial size, infinitely more fitted by nature to express good
cheer and good humour, than tenderness and sentiment; and while the
agitations of Anne’s slender form, and pensive face, may be considered
as very completely screened, Captain Wentworth should be allowed some
credit for the self-command with which he attended to her large fat
sighings over the destiny of a son, whom alive nobody had cared for.
Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary
proportions. A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep
affliction, as the most graceful set of limbs in the world. But, fair
or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will
patronize in vain—which taste cannot tolerate—which ridicule will
seize.
The Admiral, after taking two or three refreshing turns about the room
with his hands behind him, being called to order by his wife, now came
up to Captain Wentworth, and without any observation of what he might
be interrupting, thinking only of his own thoughts, began with—
“If you had been a week later at Lisbon, last spring, Frederick, you
would have been asked to give a passage to Lady Mary Grierson and her
daughters.”
“Should I? I am glad I was not a week later then.”
The Admiral abused him for his want of gallantry. He defended himself;
though professing that he would never willingly admit any ladies on
board a ship of his, excepting for a ball, or a visit, which a few
hours might comprehend.
“But, if I know myself,” said he, “this is from no want of gallantry
towards them. It is rather from feeling how impossible it is, with all
one’s efforts, and all one’s sacrifices, to make the accommodations on
board such as women ought to have. There can be no want of gallantry,
Admiral, in rating the claims of women to every personal comfort
_high_, and this is what I do. I hate to hear of women on board, or to
see them on board; and no ship under my command shall ever convey a
family of ladies anywhere, if I can help it.”
This brought his sister upon him.
“Oh! Frederick! But I cannot believe it of you.—All idle
refinement!—Women may be as comfortable on board, as in the best house
in England. I believe I have lived as much on board as most women, and
I know nothing superior to the accommodations of a man-of-war. I
declare I have not a comfort or an indulgence about me, even at
Kellynch Hall,” (with a kind bow to Anne), “beyond what I always had in
most of the ships I have lived in; and they have been five altogether.”
“Nothing to the purpose,” replied her brother. “You were living with
your husband, and were the only woman on board.”
“But you, yourself, brought Mrs Harville, her sister, her cousin, and
three children, round from Portsmouth to Plymouth. Where was this
superfine, extraordinary sort of gallantry of yours then?”
“All merged in my friendship, Sophia. I would assist any brother
officer’s wife that I could, and I would bring anything of Harville’s
from the world’s end, if he wanted it. But do not imagine that I did
not feel it an evil in itself.”
“Depend upon it, they were all perfectly comfortable.”
“I might not like them the better for that perhaps. Such a number of
women and children have no _right_ to be comfortable on board.”
“My dear Frederick, you are talking quite idly. Pray, what would become
of us poor sailors’ wives, who often want to be conveyed to one port or
another, after our husbands, if everybody had your feelings?”
“My feelings, you see, did not prevent my taking Mrs Harville and all
her family to Plymouth.”
“But I hate to hear you talking so like a fine gentleman, and as if
women were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures. We none of
us expect to be in smooth water all our days.”
“Ah! my dear,” said the Admiral, “when he has got a wife, he will sing
a different tune. When he is married, if we have the good luck to live
to another war, we shall see him do as you and I, and a great many
others, have done. We shall have him very thankful to anybody that will
bring him his wife.”
“Ay, that we shall.”
“Now I have done,” cried Captain Wentworth. “When once married people
begin to attack me with,—‘Oh! you will think very differently, when you
are married.’ I can only say, ‘No, I shall not;’ and then they say
again, ‘Yes, you will,’ and there is an end of it.”
He got up and moved away.
“What a great traveller you must have been, ma’am!” said Mrs Musgrove
to Mrs Croft.
“Pretty well, ma’am, in the fifteen years of my marriage; though many
women have done more. I have crossed the Atlantic four times, and have
been once to the East Indies, and back again, and only once; besides
being in different places about home: Cork, and Lisbon, and Gibraltar.
But I never went beyond the Streights, and never was in the West
Indies. We do not call Bermuda or Bahama, you know, the West Indies.”
Mrs Musgrove had not a word to say in dissent; she could not accuse
herself of having ever called them anything in the whole course of her
life.
“And I do assure you, ma’am,” pursued Mrs Croft, “that nothing can
exceed the accommodations of a man-of-war; I speak, you know, of the
higher rates. When you come to a frigate, of course, you are more
confined; though any reasonable woman may be perfectly happy in one of
them; and I can safely say, that the happiest part of my life has been
spent on board a ship. While we were together, you know, there was
nothing to be feared. Thank God! I have always been blessed with
excellent health, and no climate disagrees with me. A little disordered
always the first twenty-four hours of going to sea, but never knew what
sickness was afterwards. The only time I ever really suffered in body
or mind, the only time that I ever fancied myself unwell, or had any
ideas of danger, was the winter that I passed by myself at Deal, when
the Admiral (_Captain_ Croft then) was in the North Seas. I lived in
perpetual fright at that time, and had all manner of imaginary
complaints from not knowing what to do with myself, or when I should
hear from him next; but as long as we could be together, nothing ever
ailed me, and I never met with the smallest inconvenience.”
“Aye, to be sure. Yes, indeed, oh yes! I am quite of your opinion, Mrs
Croft,” was Mrs Musgrove’s hearty answer. “There is nothing so bad as a
separation. I am quite of your opinion. _I_ know what it is, for Mr
Musgrove always attends the assizes, and I am so glad when they are
over, and he is safe back again.”
The evening ended with dancing. On its being proposed, Anne offered her
services, as usual; and though her eyes would sometimes fill with tears
as she sat at the instrument, she was extremely glad to be employed,
and desired nothing in return but to be unobserved.
It was a merry, joyous party, and no one seemed in higher spirits than
Captain Wentworth. She felt that he had every thing to elevate him
which general attention and deference, and especially the attention of
all the young women, could do. The Miss Hayters, the females of the
family of cousins already mentioned, were apparently admitted to the
honour of being in love with him; and as for Henrietta and Louisa, they
both seemed so entirely occupied by him, that nothing but the continued
appearance of the most perfect good-will between themselves could have
made it credible that they were not decided rivals. If he were a little
spoilt by such universal, such eager admiration, who could wonder?
These were some of the thoughts which occupied Anne, while her fingers
were mechanically at work, proceeding for half an hour together,
equally without error, and without consciousness. _Once_ she felt that
he was looking at herself, observing her altered features, perhaps,
trying to trace in them the ruins of the face which had once charmed
him; and _once_ she knew that he must have spoken of her; she was
hardly aware of it, till she heard the answer; but then she was sure of
his having asked his partner whether Miss Elliot never danced? The
answer was, “Oh, no; never; she has quite given up dancing. She had
rather play. She is never tired of playing.” Once, too, he spoke to
her. She had left the instrument on the dancing being over, and he had
sat down to try to make out an air which he wished to give the Miss
Musgroves an idea of. Unintentionally she returned to that part of the
room; he saw her, and, instantly rising, said, with studied politeness—
“I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat;” and though she
immediately drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced
to sit down again.
Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches. His cold
politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.
CHAPTER IX.
Captain Wentworth was come to Kellynch as to a home, to stay as long as