“Ah!” cried Captain Harville, in a tone of strong feeling,
“if I could but make you comprehend what a man suffers when he takes a last look at his wife and children, and watches the boat that he has sent them off in, as long as it is in sight, and then turns away and says, `God knows whether we ever meet again!’
And then, if I could convey to you the glow of his soul when he does see them again; when, coming back after a twelvemonth’s absence, perhaps, and obliged to put into another port, he calculates how soon it be possible to get them there, pretending to deceive himself, and saying, `They cannot be here till such a day,’ but all the while hoping for them twelve hours sooner, and seeing them arrive at last, as if Heaven had given them wings, by many hours sooner still!
If I could explain to you all this, and all that a man can bear and do, and glories to do, for the sake of these treasures of his existence!
Persuasion
140
I speak, you know, only of such men as have hearts!” pressing his own with emotion.
“Oh!” cried Anne eagerly, “I hope I do justice to all that is felt by you, and by those who resemble you. God forbid that I should undervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of my fellow-creatures!
I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to suppose that true attachment and constancy were known only by woman. No, I believe you capable of everything great and good in your married lives. I believe you equal to every important exertion, and to every domestic forbearance, so long as–if I may be allowed the expression–so long as you have an object. I mean while the woman you love lives, and lives for you.
All the privilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one; you need not covet it), is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone.”
She could not immediately have uttered another sentence; her heart was too full, her breath too much oppressed.
“You are a good soul,” cried Captain Harville, putting his hand on her arm, quite affectionately. “There is no quarreling with you.
And when I think of Benwick, my tongue is tied.”
Their attention was called towards the others. Mrs Croft was taking leave.
“Here, Frederick, you and I part company, I believe,” said she.
“I am going home, and you have an engagement with your friend.
To-night we may have the pleasure of all meeting again at your party,”
(turning to Anne.) “We had your sister’s card yesterday, and I understood Frederick had a card too, though I did not see it; and you are disengaged, Frederick, are you not, as well as ourselves?”
Captain Wentworth was folding up a letter in great haste, and either could not or would not answer fully.
“Yes,” said he, “very true; here we separate, but Harville and I shall soon be after you; that is, Harville, if you are ready, I am in half a minute. I know you will not be sorry to be off.
I shall be at your service in half a minute.”
Mrs Croft left them, and Captain Wentworth, having sealed his letter with great rapidity, was indeed ready, and had even a hurried, agitated air, which shewed impatience to be gone. Anne know not how to understand it. She had the kindest “Good morning, God bless you!”
from Captain Harville, but from him not a word, nor a look!
He had passed out of the room without a look!
She had only time, however, to move closer to the table where he had been writing, when footsteps were heard returning; the door opened, it was himself. He begged their pardon, but he had forgotten his gloves, and instantly crossing the room to the writing table, he drew out a letter from under the scattered paper, placed it before Anne with eyes of glowing entreaty fixed on her for a time, and hastily collecting his gloves, was again out of the room, almost before Mrs Musgrove was aware of his being in it: the work of an instant!