Persuasion
sick chamber: it is selfishness and impatience rather than generosity
and fortitude, that one hears of. There is so little real friendship in
the world! and unfortunately” (speaking low and tremulously) “there are
so many who forget to think seriously till it is almost too late.”
Anne saw the misery of such feelings. The husband had not been what he
ought, and the wife had been led among that part of mankind which made
her think worse of the world than she hoped it deserved. It was but a
passing emotion however with Mrs Smith; she shook it off, and soon
added in a different tone—
“I do not suppose the situation my friend Mrs Rooke is in at present,
will furnish much either to interest or edify me. She is only nursing
Mrs Wallis of Marlborough Buildings; a mere pretty, silly, expensive,
fashionable woman, I believe; and of course will have nothing to report
but of lace and finery. I mean to make my profit of Mrs Wallis,
however. She has plenty of money, and I intend she shall buy all the
high-priced things I have in hand now.”
Anne had called several times on her friend, before the existence of
such a person was known in Camden Place. At last, it became necessary
to speak of her. Sir Walter, Elizabeth and Mrs Clay, returned one
morning from Laura Place, with a sudden invitation from Lady Dalrymple
for the same evening, and Anne was already engaged, to spend that
evening in Westgate Buildings. She was not sorry for the excuse. They
were only asked, she was sure, because Lady Dalrymple being kept at
home by a bad cold, was glad to make use of the relationship which had
been so pressed on her; and she declined on her own account with great
alacrity—“She was engaged to spend the evening with an old
schoolfellow.” They were not much interested in anything relative to
Anne; but still there were questions enough asked, to make it
understood what this old schoolfellow was; and Elizabeth was
disdainful, and Sir Walter severe.
“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be
visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who
was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be
met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and
sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary
taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms,
foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you
may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I
presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age?
Forty?”
“No, sir, she is not one-and-thirty; but I do not think I can put off
my engagement, because it is the only evening for some time which will
at once suit her and myself. She goes into the warm bath to-morrow, and
for the rest of the week, you know, we are engaged.”
“But what does Lady Russell think of this acquaintance?” asked
Elizabeth.
“She sees nothing to blame in it,” replied Anne; “on the contrary, she
approves it, and has generally taken me when I have called on Mrs
Smith.”
“Westgate Buildings must have been rather surprised by the appearance
of a carriage drawn up near its pavement,” observed Sir Walter. “Sir
Henry Russell’s widow, indeed, has no honours to distinguish her arms,
but still it is a handsome equipage, and no doubt is well known to
convey a Miss Elliot. A widow Mrs Smith lodging in Westgate Buildings!
A poor widow barely able to live, between thirty and forty; a mere Mrs
Smith, an every-day Mrs Smith, of all people and all names in the
world, to be the chosen friend of Miss Anne Elliot, and to be preferred
by her to her own family connections among the nobility of England and
Ireland! Mrs Smith! Such a name!”
Mrs Clay, who had been present while all this passed, now thought it
advisable to leave the room, and Anne could have said much, and did
long to say a little in defence of _her_ friend’s not very dissimilar
claims to theirs, but her sense of personal respect to her father
prevented her. She made no reply. She left it to himself to recollect,
that Mrs Smith was not the only widow in Bath between thirty and forty,
with little to live on, and no surname of dignity.
Anne kept her appointment; the others kept theirs, and of course she
heard the next morning that they had had a delightful evening. She had
been the only one of the set absent, for Sir Walter and Elizabeth had
not only been quite at her ladyship’s service themselves, but had
actually been happy to be employed by her in collecting others, and had
been at the trouble of inviting both Lady Russell and Mr Elliot; and Mr
Elliot had made a point of leaving Colonel Wallis early, and Lady
Russell had fresh arranged all her evening engagements in order to wait
on her. Anne had the whole history of all that such an evening could
supply from Lady Russell. To her, its greatest interest must be, in
having been very much talked of between her friend and Mr Elliot; in
having been wished for, regretted, and at the same time honoured for
staying away in such a cause. Her kind, compassionate visits to this
old schoolfellow, sick and reduced, seemed to have quite delighted Mr
Elliot. He thought her a most extraordinary young woman; in her temper,
manners, mind, a model of female excellence. He could meet even Lady
Russell in a discussion of her merits; and Anne could not be given to
understand so much by her friend, could not know herself to be so
highly rated by a sensible man, without many of those agreeable
sensations which her friend meant to create.
Lady Russell was now perfectly decided in her opinion of Mr Elliot. She
was as much convinced of his meaning to gain Anne in time as of his
deserving her, and was beginning to calculate the number of weeks which
would free him from all the remaining restraints of widowhood, and
leave him at liberty to exert his most open powers of pleasing. She
would not speak to Anne with half the certainty she felt on the
subject, she would venture on little more than hints of what might be
hereafter, of a possible attachment on his side, of the desirableness
of the alliance, supposing such attachment to be real and returned.
Anne heard her, and made no violent exclamations; she only smiled,
blushed, and gently shook her head.
“I am no match-maker, as you well know,” said Lady Russell, “being much
too well aware of the uncertainty of all human events and calculations.
I only mean that if Mr Elliot should some time hence pay his addresses
to you, and if you should be disposed to accept him, I think there
would be every possibility of your being happy together. A most
suitable connection everybody must consider it, but I think it might be
a very happy one.”
“Mr Elliot is an exceedingly agreeable man, and in many respects I
think highly of him,” said Anne; “but we should not suit.”
Lady Russell let this pass, and only said in rejoinder, “I own that to
be able to regard you as the future mistress of Kellynch, the future
Lady Elliot, to look forward and see you occupying your dear mother’s
place, succeeding to all her rights, and all her popularity, as well as
to all her virtues, would be the highest possible gratification to me.
You are your mother’s self in countenance and disposition; and if I
might be allowed to fancy you such as she was, in situation and name,
and home, presiding and blessing in the same spot, and only superior to
her in being more highly valued! My dearest Anne, it would give me more
delight than is often felt at my time of life!”
Anne was obliged to turn away, to rise, to walk to a distant table,
and, leaning there in pretended employment, try to subdue the feelings
this picture excited. For a few moments her imagination and her heart
were bewitched. The idea of becoming what her mother had been; of
having the precious name of “Lady Elliot” first revived in herself; of
being restored to Kellynch, calling it her home again, her home for
ever, was a charm which she could not immediately resist. Lady Russell
said not another word, willing to leave the matter to its own
operation; and believing that, could Mr Elliot at that moment with
propriety have spoken for himself!—she believed, in short, what Anne
did not believe. The same image of Mr Elliot speaking for himself
brought Anne to composure again. The charm of Kellynch and of “Lady
Elliot” all faded away. She never could accept him. And it was not only
that her feelings were still adverse to any man save one; her
judgement, on a serious consideration of the possibilities of such a
case, was against Mr Elliot.
Though they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied
that she really knew his character. That he was a sensible man, an
agreeable man, that he talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to
judge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough. He
certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article of
moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been afraid
to answer for his conduct. She distrusted the past, if not the present.
The names which occasionally dropt of former associates, the allusions
to former practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions not favourable
of what he had been. She saw that there had been bad habits; that
Sunday travelling had been a common thing; that there had been a period
of his life (and probably not a short one) when he had been, at least,
careless in all serious matters; and, though he might now think very
differently, who could answer for the true sentiments of a clever,
cautious man, grown old enough to appreciate a fair character? How
could it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly cleansed?
Mr Elliot was rational, discreet, polished, but he was not open. There
was never any burst of feeling, any warmth of indignation or delight,
at the evil or good of others. This, to Anne, was a decided
imperfection. Her early impressions were incurable. She prized the
frank, the open-hearted, the eager character beyond all others. Warmth
and enthusiasm did captivate her still. She felt that she could so much
more depend upon the sincerity of those who sometimes looked or said a
careless or a hasty thing, than of those whose presence of mind never
varied, whose tongue never slipped.
Mr Elliot was too generally agreeable. Various as were the tempers in
her father’s house, he pleased them all. He endured too well, stood too
well with every body. He had spoken to her with some degree of openness
of Mrs Clay; had appeared completely to see what Mrs Clay was about,
and to hold her in contempt; and yet Mrs Clay found him as agreeable as
any body.
Lady Russell saw either less or more than her young friend, for she saw
nothing to excite distrust. She could not imagine a man more exactly
what he ought to be than Mr Elliot; nor did she ever enjoy a sweeter
feeling than the hope of seeing him receive the hand of her beloved
Anne in Kellynch church, in the course of the following autumn.
CHAPTER XVIII.
It was the beginning of February; and Anne, having been a month in
Bath, was growing very eager for news from Uppercross and Lyme. She
wanted to hear much more than Mary had communicated. It was three weeks
since she had heard at all. She only knew that Henrietta was at home
again; and that Louisa, though considered to be recovering fast, was
still in Lyme; and she was thinking of them all very intently one
evening, when a thicker letter than usual from Mary was delivered to
her; and, to quicken the pleasure and surprise, with Admiral and Mrs
Croft’s compliments.
The Crofts must be in Bath! A circumstance to interest her. They were
people whom her heart turned to very naturally.
“What is this?” cried Sir Walter. “The Crofts have arrived in Bath? The