She now felt a great inclination to go to the outer door; she wanted to see if it rained.  Why was she to suspect herself of another motive?  Captain Wentworth must be out of sight.  She left her seat, she would go; one half of her should not be always so much wiser than the other half, or always suspecting the other of being worse than it was.  She would see if it rained.  She was sent back, however, in a moment by the entrance of Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of gentlemen and ladies, evidently his acquaintance, and whom he must have joined a little below Milsom Street.  He was more obviously struck and confused by the sight of her than she had ever observed before; he looked quite red.  For the first time, since their renewed acquaintance, she felt that she was betraying the least sensibility of the two.  She had the advantage of him in the preparation of the last few moments.  All the overpowering, blinding, bewildering, first effects of strong surprise were over with her.  Still, however, she had enough to feel!  It was agitation, pain, pleasure, a something between delight and misery.

He spoke to her, and then turned away.  The character of his manner was embarrassment.  She could not have called it either cold or friendly, or anything so certainly as embarrassed.

After a short interval, however, he came towards her, and spoke again.  Mutual enquiries on common subjects passed:  neither of them, probably, much the wiser for what they heard, and Anne continuing fully sensible of his being less at ease than formerly.  They had by dint of being so very much together, got to speak to each other with a considerable portion of apparent indifference and calmness; but he could not do it now.  Time had changed him, or Louisa had changed him.  There was consciousness of some sort or other.  He looked very well, not as if he had been suffering in health or spirits, and he talked of Uppercross, of the Musgroves, nay, even of Louisa, and had even a momentary look of his own arch significance as he named her; but yet it was Captain Wentworth not comfortable, not easy, not able to feign that he was.

It did not surprise, but it grieved Anne to observe that Elizabeth would not know him.  She saw that he saw Elizabeth, that Elizabeth saw him, that there was complete internal recognition on each side; she was convinced that he was ready to be acknowledged as an acquaintance, expecting it, and she had the pain of seeing her sister turn away with unalterable coldness.

Lady Dalrymple’s carriage, for which Miss Elliot was growing very impatient, now drew up; the servant came in to announce it.  It was beginning to rain again, and altogether there was a delay, and a bustle, and a talking, which must make all the little crowd in the shop understand that Lady Dalrymple was calling to convey Miss Elliot.  At last Miss Elliot and her friend, unattended but by the servant, (for there was no cousin returned), were walking off; and Captain Wentworth, watching them, turned again to Anne, and by manner, rather than words, was offering his services to her.