by Jane Austen
Chapter 7
A very few days more, and Captain Wentworth was known to be atKellynch, and Mr Musgrove had called on him, and come back warm in hispraise, and he was engaged with the Crofts to dine at Uppercross, bythe end of another week. It had been a great disappointment to MrMusgrove to find that no earlier day could be fixed, so impatient washe to shew his gratitude, by seeing Captain Wentworth under his ownroof, and welcoming him to all that was strongest and best in hiscellars. But a week must pass; only a week, in Anne's reckoning, andthen, she supposed, they must meet; and soon she began to wish that shecould feel secure even for a week.
Captain Wentworth made a very early return to Mr Musgrove's civility,and she was all but calling there in the same half hour. She and Marywere actually setting forward for the Great House, where, as sheafterwards learnt, they must inevitably have found him, when they werestopped by the eldest boy's being at that moment brought home inconsequence of a bad fall. The child's situation put the visitentirely aside; but she could not hear of her escape with indifference,even in the midst of the serious anxiety which they afterwards felt onhis account.
His collar-bone was found to be dislocated, and such injury received inthe back, as roused the most alarming ideas. It was an afternoon ofdistress, and Anne had every thing to do at once; the apothecary tosend for, the father to have pursued and informed, the mother tosupport and keep from hysterics, the servants to control, the youngestchild to banish, and the poor suffering one to attend and soothe;besides sending, as soon as she recollected it, proper notice to theother house, which brought her an accession rather of frightened,enquiring companions, than of very useful assistants.
Her brother's return was the first comfort; he could take best care ofhis wife; and the second blessing was the arrival of the apothecary.Till he came and had examined the child, their apprehensions were theworse for being vague; they suspected great injury, but knew not where;but now the collar-bone was soon replaced, and though Mr Robinson feltand felt, and rubbed, and looked grave, and spoke low words both to thefather and the aunt, still they were all to hope the best, and to beable to part and eat their dinner in tolerable ease of mind; and thenit was, just before they parted, that the two young aunts were able sofar to digress from their nephew's state, as to give the information ofCaptain Wentworth's visit; staying five minutes behind their father andmother, to endeavour to express how perfectly delighted they were withhim, how much handsomer, how infinitely more agreeable they thought himthan any individual among their male acquaintance, who had been at alla favourite before. How glad they had been to hear papa invite him tostay dinner, how sorry when he said it was quite out of his power, andhow glad again when he had promised in reply to papa and mamma'sfarther pressing invitations to come and dine with them on themorrow--actually on the morrow; and he had promised it in so pleasant amanner, as if he felt all the motive of their attention just as heought. And in short, he had looked and said everything with suchexquisite grace, that they could assure them all, their heads were bothturned by him; and off they ran, quite as full of glee as of love, andapparently more full of Captain Wentworth than of little Charles.
The same story and the same raptures were repeated, when the two girlscame with their father, through the gloom of the evening, to makeenquiries; and Mr Musgrove, no longer under the first uneasiness abouthis heir, could add his confirmation and praise, and hope there wouldbe now no occasion for putting Captain Wentworth off, and only be sorryto think that the cottage party, probably, would not like to leave thelittle boy, to give him the meeting. "Oh no; as to leaving the littleboy," both father and mother were in much too strong and recent alarmto bear the thought; and Anne, in the joy of the escape, could not helpadding her warm protestations to theirs.
Charles Musgrove, indeed, afterwards, shewed more of inclination; "thechild was going on so well, and he wished so much to be introduced toCaptain Wentworth, that, perhaps, he might join them in the evening; hewould not dine from home, but he might walk in for half an hour." Butin this he was eagerly opposed by his wife, with "Oh! no, indeed,Charles, I cannot bear to have you go away. Only think if anythingshould happen?"
The child had a good night, and was going on well the next day. Itmust be a work of time to ascertain that no injury had been done to thespine; but Mr Robinson found nothing to increase alarm, and CharlesMusgrove began, consequently, to feel no necessity for longerconfinement. The child was to be kept in bed and amused as quietly aspossible; but what was there for a father to do? This was quite afemale case, and it would be highly absurd in him, who could be of nouse at home, to shut himself up. His father very much wished him tomeet Captain Wentworth, and there being no sufficient reason againstit, he ought to go; and it ended in his making a bold, publicdeclaration, when he came in from shooting, of his meaning to dressdirectly, and dine at the other house.
"Nothing can be going on better than the child," said he; "so I told myfather, just now, that I would come, and he thought me quite right.Your sister being with you, my love, I have no scruple at all. Youwould not like to leave him yourself, but you see I can be of no use.Anne will send for me if anything is the matter."
Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain.Mary knew, from Charles's manner of speaking, that he was quitedetermined on going, and that it would be of no use to teaze him. Shesaid nothing, therefore, till he was out of the room, but as soon asthere was only Anne to hear--
"So you and I are to be left to shift by ourselves, with this poor sickchild; and not a creature coming near us all the evening! I knew howit would be. This is always my luck. If there is anythingdisagreeable going on men are always sure to get out of it, and Charlesis as bad as any of them. Very unfeeling! I must say it is veryunfeeling of him to be running away from his poor little boy. Talks ofhis being going on so well! How does he know that he is going on well,or that there may not be a sudden change half an hour hence? I did notthink Charles would have been so unfeeling. So here he is to go awayand enjoy himself, and because I am the poor mother, I am not to beallowed to stir; and yet, I am sure, I am more unfit than anybody elseto be about the child. My being the mother is the very reason why myfeelings should not be tried. I am not at all equal to it. You sawhow hysterical I was yesterday."
"But that was only the effect of the suddenness of your alarm--of theshock. You will not be hysterical again. I dare say we shall havenothing to distress us. I perfectly understand Mr Robinson'sdirections, and have no fears; and indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder atyour husband. Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not hisprovince. A sick child is always the mother's property: her ownfeelings generally make it so."
"I hope I am as fond of my child as any mother, but I do not know thatI am of any more use in the sick-room than Charles, for I cannot bealways scolding and teazing the poor child when it is ill; and you saw,this morning, that if I told him to keep quiet, he was sure to beginkicking about. I have not nerves for the sort of thing."
"But, could you be comfortable yourself, to be spending the wholeevening away from the poor boy?"
"Yes; you see his papa can, and why should not I? Jemima is socareful; and she could send us word every hour how he was. I reallythink Charles might as well have told his father we would all come. Iam not more alarmed about little Charles now than he is. I wasdreadfully alarmed yesterday, but the case is very different to-day."
"Well, if you do not think it too late to give notice for yourself,suppose you were to go, as well as your husband. Leave little Charlesto my care. Mr and Mrs Musgrove cannot think it wrong while I remainwith him."
"Are you serious?" cried Mary, her eyes brightening. "Dear me! that'sa very good thought, very good, indeed. To be sure, I may just as wellgo as not, for I am of no use at home--am I? and it only harasses me.You, who have not a mother's feelings, are a great deal the properestperson. You can make little Charles do anything; he always minds youat a word. It will be a great deal better than leavi
ng him only withJemima. Oh! I shall certainly go; I am sure I ought if I can, quite asmuch as Charles, for they want me excessively to be acquainted withCaptain Wentworth, and I know you do not mind being left alone. Anexcellent thought of yours, indeed, Anne. I will go and tell Charles,and get ready directly. You can send for us, you know, at a moment'snotice, if anything is the matter; but I dare say there will be nothingto alarm you. I should not go, you may be sure, if I did not feelquite at ease about my dear child."
The next moment she was tapping at her husband's dressing-room door,and as Anne followed her up stairs, she was in time for the wholeconversation, which began with Mary's saying, in a tone of greatexultation--
"I mean to go with you, Charles, for I am of no more use at home thanyou are. If I were to shut myself up for ever with the child, I shouldnot be able to persuade him to do anything he did not like. Anne willstay; Anne undertakes to stay at home and take care of him. It isAnne's own proposal, and so I shall go with you, which will be a greatdeal better, for I have not dined at the other house since Tuesday."
"This is very kind of Anne," was her husband's answer, "and I should bevery glad to have you go; but it seems rather hard that she should beleft at home by herself, to nurse our sick child."
Anne was now at hand to take up her own cause, and the sincerity of hermanner being soon sufficient to convince him, where conviction was atleast very agreeable, he had no farther scruples as to her being leftto dine alone, though he still wanted her to join them in the evening,when the child might be at rest for the night, and kindly urged her tolet him come and fetch her, but she was quite unpersuadable; and thisbeing the case, she had ere long the pleasure of seeing them set offtogether in high spirits. They were gone, she hoped, to be happy,however oddly constructed such happiness might seem; as for herself,she was left with as many sensations of comfort, as were, perhaps, everlikely to be hers. She knew herself to be of the first utility to thechild; and what was it to her if Frederick Wentworth were only half amile distant, making himself agreeable to others?
She would have liked to know how he felt as to a meeting. Perhapsindifferent, if indifference could exist under such circumstances. Hemust be either indifferent or unwilling. Had he wished ever to see heragain, he need not have waited till this time; he would have done whatshe could not but believe that in his place she should have done longago, when events had been early giving him the independence which alonehad been wanting.
Her brother and sister came back delighted with their new acquaintance,and their visit in general. There had been music, singing, talking,laughing, all that was most agreeable; charming manners in CaptainWentworth, no shyness or reserve; they seemed all to know each otherperfectly, and he was coming the very next morning to shoot withCharles. He was to come to breakfast, but not at the Cottage, thoughthat had been proposed at first; but then he had been pressed to cometo the Great House instead, and he seemed afraid of being in MrsCharles Musgrove's way, on account of the child, and therefore,somehow, they hardly knew how, it ended in Charles's being to meet himto breakfast at his father's.
Anne understood it. He wished to avoid seeing her. He had inquiredafter her, she found, slightly, as might suit a former slightacquaintance, seeming to acknowledge such as she had acknowledged,actuated, perhaps, by the same view of escaping introduction when theywere to meet.
The morning hours of the Cottage were always later than those of theother house, and on the morrow the difference was so great that Maryand Anne were not more than beginning breakfast when Charles came in tosay that they were just setting off, that he was come for his dogs,that his sisters were following with Captain Wentworth; his sistersmeaning to visit Mary and the child, and Captain Wentworth proposingalso to wait on her for a few minutes if not inconvenient; and thoughCharles had answered for the child's being in no such state as couldmake it inconvenient, Captain Wentworth would not be satisfied withouthis running on to give notice.
Mary, very much gratified by this attention, was delighted to receivehim, while a thousand feelings rushed on Anne, of which this was themost consoling, that it would soon be over. And it was soon over. Intwo minutes after Charles's preparation, the others appeared; they werein the drawing-room. Her eye half met Captain Wentworth's, a bow, acurtsey passed; she heard his voice; he talked to Mary, said all thatwas right, said something to the Miss Musgroves, enough to mark an easyfooting; the room seemed full, full of persons and voices, but a fewminutes ended it. Charles shewed himself at the window, all was ready,their visitor had bowed and was gone, the Miss Musgroves were gone too,suddenly resolving to walk to the end of the village with thesportsmen: the room was cleared, and Anne might finish her breakfastas she could.
"It is over! it is over!" she repeated to herself again and again, innervous gratitude. "The worst is over!"
Mary talked, but she could not attend. She had seen him. They hadmet. They had been once more in the same room.
Soon, however, she began to reason with herself, and try to be feelingless. Eight years, almost eight years had passed, since all had beengiven up. How absurd to be resuming the agitation which such aninterval had banished into distance and indistinctness! What might noteight years do? Events of every description, changes, alienations,removals--all, all must be comprised in it, and oblivion of the past--how natural, how certain too! It included nearly a third part of herown life.
Alas! with all her reasoning, she found, that to retentive feelingseight years may be little more than nothing.
Now, how were his sentiments to be read? Was this like wishing toavoid her? And the next moment she was hating herself for the follywhich asked the question.
On one other question which perhaps her utmost wisdom might not haveprevented, she was soon spared all suspense; for, after the MissMusgroves had returned and finished their visit at the Cottage she hadthis spontaneous information from Mary:--
"Captain Wentworth is not very gallant by you, Anne, though he was soattentive to me. Henrietta asked him what he thought of you, when theywent away, and he said, 'You were so altered he should not have knownyou again.'"
Mary had no feelings to make her respect her sister's in a common way,but she was perfectly unsuspicious of being inflicting any peculiarwound.
"Altered beyond his knowledge." Anne fully submitted, in silent, deepmortification. Doubtless it was so, and she could take no revenge, forhe was not altered, or not for the worse. She had already acknowledgedit to herself, and she could not think differently, let him think ofher as he would. No: the years which had destroyed her youth andbloom had only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in norespect lessening his personal advantages. She had seen the sameFrederick Wentworth.
"So altered that he should not have known her again!" These were wordswhich could not but dwell with her. Yet she soon began to rejoice thatshe had heard them. They were of sobering tendency; they allayedagitation; they composed, and consequently must make her happier.
Frederick Wentworth had used such words, or something like them, butwithout an idea that they would be carried round to her. He hadthought her wretchedly altered, and in the first moment of appeal, hadspoken as he felt. He had not forgiven Anne Elliot. She had used himill, deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she had shewn afeebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confidenttemper could not endure. She had given him up to oblige others. Ithad been the effect of over-persuasion. It had been weakness andtimidity.
He had been most warmly attached to her, and had never seen a womansince whom he thought her equal; but, except from some naturalsensation of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again. Herpower with him was gone for ever.
It was now his object to marry. He was rich, and being turned onshore, fully intended to settle as soon as he could be properlytempted; actually looking round, ready to fall in love with all thespeed which a clear head and a quick taste could allow. He had a heartfor either of the Miss Musgroves, if they
could catch it; a heart, inshort, for any pleasing young woman who came in his way, excepting AnneElliot. This was his only secret exception, when he said to hissister, in answer to her suppositions:--
"Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match. Anybodybetween fifteen and thirty may have me for asking. A little beauty,and a few smiles, and a few compliments to the navy, and I am a lostman. Should not this be enough for a sailor, who has had no societyamong women to make him nice?"
He said it, she knew, to be contradicted. His bright proud eye spokethe conviction that he was nice; and Anne Elliot was not out of histhoughts, when he more seriously described the woman he should wish tomeet with. "A strong mind, with sweetness of manner," made the firstand the last of the description.
"That is the woman I want," said he. "Something a little inferior Ishall of course put up with, but it must not be much. If I am a fool,I shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more thanmost men."
