الفصل الفصل 13 · The remainder of Anne’s time at Uppercross, comprehending only two

. The remainder of Anne’s time at Uppercross, comprehending only two

days, was spent entirely at the Mansion House; and she had the

satisfaction of knowing herself extremely useful there, both as an

immediate companion, and as assisting in all those arrangements for the

future, which, in Mr and Mrs Musgrove’s distressed state of spirits,

would have been difficulties.

They had an early account from Lyme the next morning. Louisa was much

the same. No symptoms worse than before had appeared. Charles came a

few hours afterwards, to bring a later and more particular account. He

was tolerably cheerful. A speedy cure must not be hoped, but everything

was going on as well as the nature of the case admitted. In speaking of

the Harvilles, he seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of their

kindness, especially of Mrs Harville’s exertions as a nurse. “She

really left nothing for Mary to do. He and Mary had been persuaded to

go early to their inn last night. Mary had been hysterical again this

morning. When he came away, she was going to walk out with Captain

Benwick, which, he hoped, would do her good. He almost wished she had

been prevailed on to come home the day before; but the truth was, that

Mrs Harville left nothing for anybody to do.”

Charles was to return to Lyme the same afternoon, and his father had at

first half a mind to go with him, but the ladies could not consent. It

would be going only to multiply trouble to the others, and increase his

own distress; and a much better scheme followed and was acted upon. A

chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far

more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who

having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the

lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his

brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and

dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who,

consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse

dear Miss Louisa. Vague wishes of getting Sarah thither, had occurred

before to Mrs Musgrove and Henrietta; but without Anne, it would hardly

have been resolved on, and found practicable so soon.

They were indebted, the next day, to Charles Hayter, for all the minute

knowledge of Louisa, which it was so essential to obtain every

twenty-four hours. He made it his business to go to Lyme, and his

account was still encouraging. The intervals of sense and consciousness

were believed to be stronger. Every report agreed in Captain

Wentworth’s appearing fixed in Lyme.

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.

There was some anxiety mixed with Lady Russell’s joy in meeting her.

She knew who had been frequenting Uppercross. But happily, either Anne

was improved in plumpness and looks, or Lady Russell fancied her so;

and Anne, in receiving her compliments on the occasion, had the

amusement of connecting them with the silent admiration of her cousin,

and of hoping that she was to be blessed with a second spring of youth

and beauty.

When they came to converse, she was soon sensible of some mental

change. The subjects of which her heart had been full on leaving

Kellynch, and which she had felt slighted, and been compelled to

smother among the Musgroves, were now become but of secondary interest.

She had lately lost sight even of her father and sister and Bath. Their

concerns had been sunk under those of Uppercross; and when Lady Russell

reverted to their former hopes and fears, and spoke her satisfaction in

the house in Camden Place, which had been taken, and her regret that

Mrs Clay should still be with them, Anne would have been ashamed to

have it known how much more she was thinking of Lyme and Louisa

Musgrove, and all her acquaintance there; how much more interesting to

her was the home and the friendship of the Harvilles and Captain

Benwick, than her own father’s house in Camden Place, or her own

sister’s intimacy with Mrs Clay. She was actually forced to exert

herself to meet Lady Russell with anything like the appearance of equal

solicitude, on topics which had by nature the first claim on her.

There was a little awkwardness at first in their discourse on another

subject. They must speak of the accident at Lyme. Lady Russell had not

been arrived five minutes the day before, when a full account of the

whole had burst on her; but still it must be talked of, she must make

enquiries, she must regret the imprudence, lament the result, and

Captain Wentworth’s name must be mentioned by both. Anne was conscious

of not doing it so well as Lady Russell. She could not speak the name,

and look straight forward to Lady Russell’s eye, till she had adopted

the expedient of telling her briefly what she thought of the attachment

between him and Louisa. When this was told, his name distressed her no

longer.

Lady Russell had only to listen composedly, and wish them happy, but

internally her heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt,

that the man who at twenty-three had seemed to understand somewhat of

the value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed

by a Louisa Musgrove.

The first three or four days passed most quietly, with no circumstance

to mark them excepting the receipt of a note or two from Lyme, which

found their way to Anne, she could not tell how, and brought a rather

improving account of Louisa. At the end of that period, Lady Russell’s

politeness could repose no longer, and the fainter self-threatenings of

the past became in a decided tone, “I must call on Mrs Croft; I really

must call upon her soon. Anne, have you courage to go with me, and pay

a visit in that house? It will be some trial to us both.”

Anne did not shrink from it; on the contrary, she truly felt as she

said, in observing—

“I think you are very likely to suffer the most of the two; your

feelings are less reconciled to the change than mine. By remaining in

the neighbourhood, I am become inured to it.”

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an

opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in

his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the

poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed

for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel

that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall

had passed into better hands than its owners’. These convictions must

unquestionably have their own pain, and severe was its kind; but they

precluded that pain which Lady Russell would suffer in entering the

house again, and returning through the well-known apartments.

In such moments Anne had no power of saying to herself, “These rooms

ought to belong only to us. Oh, how fallen in their destination! How

unworthily occupied! An ancient family to be so driven away! Strangers

filling their place!” No, except when she thought of her mother, and

remembered where she had been used to sit and preside, she had no sigh

of that description to heave.

Mrs Croft always met her with a kindness which gave her the pleasure of

fancying herself a favourite, and on the present occasion, receiving

her in that house, there was particular attention.

The sad accident at Lyme was soon the prevailing topic, and on

comparing their latest accounts of the invalid, it appeared that each

lady dated her intelligence from the same hour of yestermorn; that

Captain Wentworth had been in Kellynch yesterday (the first time since

the accident), had brought Anne the last note, which she had not been

able to trace the exact steps of; had staid a few hours and then

returned again to Lyme, and without any present intention of quitting

it any more. He had enquired after her, she found, particularly; had

expressed his hope of Miss Elliot’s not being the worse for her

exertions, and had spoken of those exertions as great. This was

handsome, and gave her more pleasure than almost anything else could

have done.

As to the sad catastrophe itself, it could be canvassed only in one

style by a couple of steady, sensible women, whose judgements had to

work on ascertained events; and it was perfectly decided that it had

been the consequence of much thoughtlessness and much imprudence; that

its effects were most alarming, and that it was frightful to think, how

long Miss Musgrove’s recovery might yet be doubtful, and how liable she

would still remain to suffer from the concussion hereafter! The Admiral

wound it up summarily by exclaiming—

“Ay, a very bad business indeed. A new sort of way this, for a young

fellow to be making love, by breaking his mistress’s head, is not it,

Miss Elliot? This is breaking a head and giving a plaster, truly!”

Admiral Croft’s manners were not quite of the tone to suit Lady

Russell, but they delighted Anne. His goodness of heart and simplicity

of character were irresistible.

“Now, this must be very bad for you,” said he, suddenly rousing from a

little reverie, “to be coming and finding us here. I had not

recollected it before, I declare, but it must be very bad. But now, do

not stand upon ceremony. Get up and go over all the rooms in the house

if you like it.”

“Another time, Sir, I thank you, not now.”

“Well, whenever it suits you. You can slip in from the shrubbery at any

time; and there you will find we keep our umbrellas hanging up by that

door. A good place is not it? But,” (checking himself), “you will not

think it a good place, for yours were always kept in the butler’s room.

Ay, so it always is, I believe. One man’s ways may be as good as

another’s, but we all like our own best. And so you must judge for

yourself, whether it would be better for you to go about the house or

not.”

Anne, finding she might decline it, did so, very gratefully.

“We have made very few changes either,” continued the Admiral, after

thinking a moment. “Very few. We told you about the laundry-door, at

Uppercross. That has been a very great improvement. The wonder was, how

any family upon earth could bear with the inconvenience of its opening

as it did, so long! You will tell Sir Walter what we have done, and

that Mr Shepherd thinks it the greatest improvement the house ever had.

Indeed, I must do ourselves the justice to say, that the few

alterations we have made have been all very much for the better. My

wife should have the credit of them, however. I have done very little

besides sending away some of the large looking-glasses from my

dressing-room, which was your father’s. A very good man, and very much

the gentleman I am sure: but I should think, Miss Elliot,” (looking

with serious reflection), “I should think he must be rather a dressy

man for his time of life. Such a number of looking-glasses! oh Lord!

there was no getting away from one’s self. So I got Sophy to lend me a

hand, and we soon shifted their quarters; and now I am quite snug, with

my little shaving glass in one corner, and another great thing that I

never go near.”

Anne, amused in spite of herself, was rather distressed for an answer,

and the Admiral, fearing he might not have been civil enough, took up

the subject again, to say—

“The next time you write to your good father, Miss Elliot, pray give

him my compliments and Mrs Croft’s, and say that we are settled here

quite to our liking, and have no fault at all to find with the place.

The breakfast-room chimney smokes a little, I grant you, but it is only

when the wind is due north and blows hard, which may not happen three

times a winter. And take it altogether, now that we have been into most

of the houses hereabouts and can judge, there is not one that we like

better than this. Pray say so, with my compliments. He will be glad to

hear it.”

Lady Russell and Mrs Croft were very well pleased with each other: but

the acquaintance which this visit began was fated not to proceed far at

present; for when it was returned, the Crofts announced themselves to

be going away for a few weeks, to visit their connexions in the north

of the county, and probably might not be at home again before Lady

Russell would be removing to Bath.

So ended all danger to Anne of meeting Captain Wentworth at Kellynch

Hall, or of seeing him in company with her friend. Everything was safe

enough, and she smiled over the many anxious feelings she had wasted on

the subject.