Persuasion
“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, but she had not
courage to ask the question.
“The name of Anne Elliot,” said he, “has long had an interesting sound
to me. Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I
dared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change.”
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!” 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seemed to be withdrawn from her.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. She wished him not so near her.
The first act was over. Now she hoped for some beneficial change; and,
after a period of nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them did
decide on going in quest of tea. Anne was one of the few who did not
choose to move. She remained in her seat, and so did Lady Russell; but
she had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr Elliot; and she did not mean,
whatever she might feel on Lady Russell’s account, to shrink from
conversation with Captain Wentworth, if he gave her 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.
In re-settling themselves there were now many changes, the result of
which was favourable for her. Colonel Wallis declined sitting down
again, and Mr Elliot was invited by Elizabeth and Miss Carteret, in a
manner not to be refused, to sit between them; and by some other
removals, and a little scheming of her own, Anne was enabled to place
herself much nearer the end of the bench than she had been before, much
more within reach of a passer-by. She could not do so, without
comparing herself with Miss Larolles, the inimitable Miss Larolles; but
still she did it, and not with much happier effect; though by what
seemed prosperity in the shape of an early abdication in her next
neighbours, she found herself at the very end of the bench before the
concert closed.
Such was her situation, with a vacant space at hand, when Captain
Wentworth was again in sight. She saw him not far off. He saw her too;
yet he looked grave, and seemed irresolute, and only by very slow
degrees came at last near enough to speak to her. She felt that
something must be the matter. The 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 disappointed, had expected singing; and in
short, must confess that he should not be sorry when it was over. Anne
replied, and spoke in defence 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 impressively, “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.
CHAPTER XXI.
Anne recollected with pleasure the next morning her promise of going to
Mrs Smith, meaning that it should engage her from home at the time when
Mr Elliot would be most likely to call; for to avoid Mr Elliot was
almost a first object.
She felt a great deal of good-will towards him. In spite of the
mischief of his attentions, she owed him gratitude and regard, perhaps
compassion. She could not help thinking much of the extraordinary
circumstances attending their acquaintance, of the right which he
seemed to have to interest her, by everything in situation, by his own
sentiments, by his early prepossession. It was altogether very
extraordinary; flattering, but painful. There was much to regret. How
she might have felt had there been no Captain Wentworth in the case,
was not worth enquiry; for there was a Captain Wentworth; and be the
conclusion of the present suspense good or bad, her affection would be
his for ever. Their union, she believed, could not divide her more from
other men, than their final separation.
Prettier musings of high-wrought love and eternal constancy, could
never have passed along the streets of Bath, than Anne was sporting
with from Camden Place to Westgate Buildings. It was almost enough to
spread purification and perfume all the way.
She was sure of a pleasant reception; and her friend seemed this
morning particularly obliged to her for coming, seemed hardly to have
expected her, though it had been an appointment.
An account of the concert was immediately claimed; and Anne’s
recollections of the concert were quite happy enough to animate her
features and make her rejoice to talk of it. All that she could tell
she told most gladly, but the all was little for one who had been
there, and unsatisfactory for such an enquirer as Mrs Smith, who had
already heard, through the short cut of a laundress and a waiter,
rather more of the general success and produce of the evening than Anne
could relate, and who now asked in vain for several particulars of the
company. Everybody of any consequence or notoriety in Bath was well
know by name to Mrs Smith.
“The little Durands were there, I conclude,” said she, “with their
mouths open to catch the music, like unfledged sparrows ready to be
fed. They never miss a concert.”
“Yes; I did not see them myself, but I heard Mr Elliot say they were in
the room.”
“The Ibbotsons, were they there? and the two new beauties, with the
tall Irish officer, who is talked of for one of them.”
“I do not know. I do not think they were.”
“Old Lady Mary Maclean? I need not ask after her. She never misses, I
know; and you must have seen her. She must have been in your own
circle; for as you went with Lady Dalrymple, you were in the seats of
grandeur, round the orchestra, of course.”
“No, that was what I dreaded. It would have been very unpleasant to me
in every respect. But happily Lady Dalrymple always chooses to be
farther off; and we were exceedingly well placed, that is, for hearing;
I must not say for seeing, because I appear to have seen very little.”
“Oh! you saw enough for your own amusement. I can understand. There is
a sort of domestic enjoyment to be known even in a crowd, and this you
had. You were a large party in yourselves, and you wanted nothing
beyond.”
“But I ought to have looked about me more,” said Anne, conscious while
she spoke that there had in fact been no want of looking about, that
the object only had been deficient.
“No, no; you were better employed. You need not tell me that you had a
pleasant evening. I see it in your eye. I perfectly see how the hours
passed: that you had always something agreeable to listen to. In the
intervals of the concert it was conversation.”
Anne half smiled and said, “Do you see that in my eye?”
“Yes, I do. Your countenance perfectly informs me that you were in
company last night with the person whom you think the most agreeable in
the world, the person who interests you at this present time more than
all the rest of the world put together.”
A blush overspread Anne’s cheeks. She could say nothing.
“And such being the case,” continued Mrs Smith, after a short pause, “I
hope you believe that I do know how to value your kindness in coming to
me this morning. It is really very good of you to come and sit with me,