Persuasion
More than seven years were gone since this little history of sorrowful
interest had reached its close; and time had softened down much,
perhaps nearly all of peculiar attachment to him, but she had been too
dependent on time alone; no aid had been given in change of place
(except in one visit to Bath soon after the rupture), or in any novelty
or enlargement of society. No one had ever come within the Kellynch
circle, who could bear a comparison with Frederick Wentworth, as he
stood in her memory. No second attachment, the only thoroughly natural,
happy, and sufficient cure, at her time of life, had been possible to
the nice tone of her mind, the fastidiousness of her taste, in the
small limits of the society around them. She had been solicited, when
about two-and-twenty, to change her name, by the young man, who not
long afterwards found a more willing mind in her younger sister; and
Lady Russell had lamented her refusal; for Charles Musgrove was the
eldest son of a man, whose landed property and general importance were
second in that country, only to Sir Walter’s, and of good character and
appearance; and however Lady Russell might have asked yet for something
more, while Anne was nineteen, she would have rejoiced to see her at
twenty-two so respectably removed from the partialities and injustice
of her father’s house, and settled so permanently near herself. But in
this case, Anne had left nothing for advice to do; and though Lady
Russell, as satisfied as ever with her own discretion, never wished the
past undone, she began now to have the anxiety which borders on
hopelessness for Anne’s being tempted, by some man of talents and
independence, to enter a state for which she held her to be peculiarly
fitted by her warm affections and domestic habits.
They knew not each other’s opinion, either its constancy or its change,
on the one leading point of Anne’s conduct, for the subject was never
alluded to; but Anne, at seven-and-twenty, thought very differently
from what she had been made to think at nineteen. She did not blame
Lady Russell, she did not blame herself for having been guided by her;
but she felt that were any young person, in similar circumstances, to
apply to her for counsel, they would never receive any of such certain
immediate wretchedness, such uncertain future good. She was persuaded
that under every disadvantage of disapprobation at home, and every
anxiety attending his profession, all their probable fears, delays, and
disappointments, she should yet have been a happier woman in
maintaining the engagement, than she had been in the sacrifice of it;
and this, she fully believed, had the usual share, had even more than
the usual share of all such solicitudes and suspense been theirs,
without reference to the actual results of their case, which, as it
happened, would have bestowed earlier prosperity than could be
reasonably calculated on. All his sanguine expectations, all his
confidence had been justified. His genius and ardour had seemed to
foresee and to command his prosperous path. He had, very soon after
their engagement ceased, got employ: and all that he had told her would
follow, had taken place. He had distinguished himself, and early gained
the other step in rank, and must now, by successive captures, have made
a handsome fortune. She had only navy lists and newspapers for her
authority, but she could not doubt his being rich; and, in favour of
his constancy, she had no reason to believe him married.
How eloquent could Anne Elliot have been! how eloquent, at least, were
her wishes on the side of early warm attachment, and a cheerful
confidence in futurity, against that over-anxious caution which seems
to insult exertion and distrust Providence! She had been forced into
prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older: the
natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.
With all these circumstances, recollections and feelings, she could not
hear that Captain Wentworth’s sister was likely to live at Kellynch
without a revival of former pain; and many a stroll, and many a sigh,
were necessary to dispel the agitation of the idea. She often told
herself it was folly, before she could harden her nerves sufficiently
to feel the continual discussion of the Crofts and their business no
evil. She was assisted, however, by that perfect indifference and
apparent unconsciousness, among the only three of her own friends in
the secret of the past, which seemed almost to deny any recollection of
it. She could do justice to the superiority of Lady Russell’s motives
in this, over those of her father and Elizabeth; she could honour all
the better feelings of her calmness; but the general air of oblivion
among them was highly important from whatever it sprung; and in the
event of Admiral Croft’s really taking Kellynch Hall, she rejoiced anew
over the conviction which had always been most grateful to her, of the
past being known to those three only among her connexions, by whom no
syllable, she believed, would ever be whispered, and in the trust that
among his, the brother only with whom he had been residing, had
received any information of their short-lived engagement. That brother
had been long removed from the country and being a sensible man, and,
moreover, a single man at the time, she had a fond dependence on no
human creature’s having heard of it from him.
The sister, Mrs Croft, had then been out of England, accompanying her
husband on a foreign station, and her own sister, Mary, had been at
school while it all occurred; and never admitted by the pride of some,
and the delicacy of others, to the smallest knowledge of it afterwards.
With these supports, she hoped that the acquaintance between herself
and the Crofts, which, with Lady Russell, still resident in Kellynch,
and Mary fixed only three miles off, must be anticipated, need not
involve any particular awkwardness.
CHAPTER V.
On the morning appointed for Admiral and Mrs Croft’s seeing Kellynch
Hall, Anne found it most natural to take her almost daily walk to Lady
Russell’s, and keep out of the way till all was over; when she found it
most natural to be sorry that she had missed the opportunity of seeing
them.
This meeting of the two parties proved highly satisfactory, and decided
the whole business at once. Each lady was previously well disposed for
an agreement, and saw nothing, therefore, but good manners in the
other; and with regard to the gentlemen, there was such an hearty good
humour, such an open, trusting liberality on the Admiral’s side, as
could not but influence Sir Walter, who had besides been flattered into
his very best and most polished behaviour by Mr Shepherd’s assurances
of his being known, by report, to the Admiral, as a model of good
breeding.
The house and grounds, and furniture, were approved, the Crofts were
approved, terms, time, every thing, and every body, was right; and Mr
Shepherd’s clerks were set to work, without there having been a single
preliminary difference to modify of all that “This indenture sheweth.”
Sir Walter, without hesitation, declared the Admiral to be the
best-looking sailor he had ever met with, and went so far as to say,
that if his own man might have had the arranging of his hair, he should
not be ashamed of being seen with him any where; and the Admiral, with
sympathetic cordiality, observed to his wife as they drove back through
the park, “I thought we should soon come to a deal, my dear, in spite
of what they told us at Taunton. The Baronet will never set the Thames
on fire, but there seems to be no harm in him.”—reciprocal compliments,
which would have been esteemed about equal.
The Crofts were to have possession at Michaelmas; and as Sir Walter
proposed removing to Bath in the course of the preceding month, there
was no time to be lost in making every dependent arrangement.
Lady Russell, convinced that Anne would not be allowed to be of any
use, or any importance, in the choice of the house which they were
going to secure, was very unwilling to have her hurried away so soon,
and wanted to make it possible for her to stay behind till she might
convey her to Bath herself after Christmas; but having engagements of
her own which must take her from Kellynch for several weeks, she was
unable to give the full invitation she wished, and Anne though dreading
the possible heats of September in all the white glare of Bath, and
grieving to forego all the influence so sweet and so sad of the
autumnal months in the country, did not think that, everything
considered, she wished to remain. It would be most right, and most
wise, and, therefore must involve least suffering to go with the
others.
Something occurred, however, to give her a different duty. Mary, often
a little unwell, and always thinking a great deal of her own
complaints, and always in the habit of claiming Anne when anything was
the matter, was indisposed; and foreseeing that she should not have a
day’s health all the autumn, entreated, or rather required her, for it
was hardly entreaty, to come to Uppercross Cottage, and bear her
company as long as she should want her, instead of going to Bath.
“I cannot possibly do without Anne,” was Mary’s reasoning; and
Elizabeth’s reply was, “Then I am sure Anne had better stay, for nobody
will want her in Bath.”
To be claimed as a good, though in an improper style, is at least
better than being rejected as no good at all; and Anne, glad to be
thought of some use, glad to have anything marked out as a duty, and
certainly not sorry to have the scene of it in the country, and her own
dear country, readily agreed to stay.
This invitation of Mary’s removed all Lady Russell’s difficulties, and
it was consequently soon settled that Anne should not go to Bath till
Lady Russell took her, and that all the intervening time should be
divided between Uppercross Cottage and Kellynch Lodge.
So far all was perfectly right; but Lady Russell was almost startled by
the wrong of one part of the Kellynch Hall plan, when it burst on her,
which was, Mrs Clay’s being engaged to go to Bath with Sir Walter and
Elizabeth, as a most important and valuable assistant to the latter in
all the business before her. Lady Russell was extremely sorry that such
a measure should have been resorted to at all, wondered, grieved, and
feared; and the affront it contained to Anne, in Mrs Clay’s being of so
much use, while Anne could be of none, was a very sore aggravation.
Anne herself was become hardened to such affronts; but she felt the
imprudence of the arrangement quite as keenly as Lady Russell. With a
great deal of quiet observation, and a knowledge, which she often
wished less, of her father’s character, she was sensible that results
the most serious to his family from the intimacy were more than
possible. She did not imagine that her father had at present an idea of
the kind. Mrs Clay had freckles, and a projecting tooth, and a clumsy
wrist, which he was continually making severe remarks upon, in her
absence; but she was young, and certainly altogether well-looking, and
possessed, in an acute mind and assiduous pleasing manners, infinitely
more dangerous attractions than any merely personal might have been.
Anne was so impressed by the degree of their danger, that she could not
excuse herself from trying to make it perceptible to her sister. She
had little hope of success; but Elizabeth, who in the event of such a
reverse would be so much more to be pitied than herself, should never,
she thought, have reason to reproach her for giving no warning.
She spoke, and seemed only to offend. Elizabeth could not conceive how
such an absurd suspicion should occur to her, and indignantly answered
for each party’s perfectly knowing their situation.