A day or two passed without producing anything.
The theatre or the rooms, where he was most likely
to be, were not fashionable enough for the Elliots,
whose evening amusements were solely in the elegant
stupidity of private parties, in which they were getting
more and more engaged; and Anne, wearied of such a
state of stagnation, sick of knowing nothing, and
fancying herself stronger because her strength was
not tried, was quite impatient for the concert evening.
It was a concert for the benefit of a person patronised
by Lady Dalrymple. Of course they must attend.
It was really expected to be a good one, and Captain
Wentworth was very fond of music. If she could
only have a few minutes conversation with him again,
she fancied she should be satisfied; and as to the
power of addressing him, she felt all over courage
if the opportunity occurred. Elizabeth had turned
from him, Lady Russell overlooked him; her nerves
were strengthened by these circumstances; she felt
that she owed him attention.
She had once partly promised Mrs Smith to spend the
evening with her; but in a short hurried call she
excused herself and put it off, with the more decided
promise of a longer visit on the morrow. Mrs
Smith gave a most good-humoured acquiescence.
“By all means,” said she; “only
tell me all about it, when you do come. Who is
your party?”
Anne named them all. Mrs Smith made no reply;
but when she was leaving her said, and with an expression
half serious, half arch, “Well, I heartily wish
your concert may answer; and do not fail me to-morrow
if you can come; for I begin to have a foreboding
that I may not have many more visits from you.”
Anne was startled and confused; but after standing
in a moment’s suspense, was obliged, and not
sorry to be obliged, to hurry away.
Chapter 20
Sir Walter, his two daughters, and Mrs Clay, were
the earliest of all their party at the rooms in the
evening; and as Lady Dalrymple must be waited for,
they took their station by one of the fires in the
Octagon Room. But hardly were they so settled,
when the door opened again, and Captain Wentworth
walked in alone. Anne was the nearest to him,
and making yet a little advance, she instantly spoke.
He was preparing only to bow and pass on, but her gentle
“How do you do?” brought him out of the
straight line to stand near her, and make enquiries
in return, in spite of the formidable father and sister
in the back ground. Their being in the back ground
was a support to Anne; she knew nothing of their looks,
and felt equal to everything which she believed right
to be done.
While they were speaking, a whispering between her
father and Elizabeth caught her ear. She could
not distinguish, but she must guess the subject; and
on Captain Wentworth’s making a distant bow,
she comprehended that her father had judged so well
as to give him that simple acknowledgement of acquaintance,
and she was just in time by a side glance to see a
slight curtsey from Elizabeth herself. This,
though late, and reluctant, and ungracious, was yet
better than nothing, and her spirits improved.
