Anne was to leave them on the morrow, an event which they all dreaded.  “What should they do without her?  They were wretched comforters for one another.”  And so much was said in this way, that Anne thought she could not do better than impart among them the general inclination to which she was privy, and persuaded them all to go to Lyme at once.  She had little difficulty; it was soon determined that they would go; go to-morrow, fix themselves at the inn, or get into lodgings, as it suited, and there remain till dear Louisa could be moved.  They must be taking off some trouble from the good people she was with; they might at least relieve Mrs Harville from the care of her own children; and in short, they were so happy in the decision, that Anne was delighted with what she had done, and felt that she could not spend her last morning at Uppercross better than in assisting their preparations, and sending them off at an early hour, though her being left to the solitary range of the house was the consequence.

She was the last, excepting the little boys at the cottage, she was the very last, the only remaining one of all that had filled and animated both houses, of all that had given Uppercross its cheerful character.  A few days had made a change indeed!

If Louisa recovered, it would all be well again.  More than former happiness would be restored.  There could not be a doubt, to her mind there was none, of what would follow her recovery.  A few months hence, and the room now so deserted, occupied but by her silent, pensive self, might be filled again with all that was happy and gay, all that was glowing and bright in prosperous love, all that was most unlike Anne Elliot!

An hour’s complete leisure for such reflections as these, on a dark November day, a small thick rain almost blotting out the very few objects ever to be discerned from the windows, was enough to make the sound of Lady Russell’s carriage exceedingly welcome; and yet, though desirous to be gone, she could not quit the Mansion House, or look an adieu to the Cottage, with its black, dripping and comfortless veranda, or even notice through the misty glasses the last humble tenements of the village, without a saddened heart.  Scenes had passed in Uppercross which made it precious.  It stood the record of many sensations of pain, once severe, but now softened; and of some instances of relenting feeling, some breathings of friendship and reconciliation, which could never be looked for again, and which could never cease to be dear.  She left it all behind her, all but the recollection that such things had been.

Anne had never entered Kellynch since her quitting Lady Russell’s house in September.  It had not been necessary, and the few occasions of its being possible for her to go to the Hall she had contrived to evade and escape from.  Her first return was to resume her place in the modern and elegant apartments of the Lodge, and to gladden the eyes of its mistress.