“She would have turned back then, but for you?”
“She would indeed. I am almost ashamed to say it.”
“Happy for her, to have such a mind as yours at hand! After the hints you gave just now, which did but confirm my own observations, the last time I was in company with him, I need not affect to have no comprehension of what is going on. I see that more than a mere dutiful morning visit to your aunt was in question; and woe betide him, and her too, when it comes to things of consequence, when they are placed in circumstances requiring fortitude and strength of mind, if she have not resolution enough to resist idle interference in such a trifle as this. Your sister is an amiable creature; but yours is the character of decision and firmness, I see. If you value her conduct or happiness, infuse as much of your own spirit into her as you can. But this, no doubt, you have been always doing. It is the worst evil of too yielding and indecisive a character, that no influence over it can be depended on.
You are never sure of a good impression being durable; everybody may sway it. Let those who would be happy be firm. Here is a nut,”
said he, catching one down from an upper bough. “to exemplify: a beautiful glossy nut, which, blessed with original strength, has outlived all the storms of autumn. Not a puncture, not a weak spot anywhere. This nut,” he continued, with playful solemnity,
“while so many of his brethren have fallen and been trodden under foot, is still in possession of all the happiness that a hazel nut can be
Persuasion
52
supposed capable of.” Then returning to his former earnest tone–
“My first wish for all whom I am interested in, is that they should be firm.
If Louisa Musgrove would be beautiful and happy in her November of life, she will cherish all her present powers of mind.”
He had done, and was unanswered. It would have surprised Anne if Louisa could have readily answered such a speech: words of such interest, spoken with such serious warmth! She could imagine what Louisa was feeling.
For herself, she feared to move, lest she should be seen.
While she remained, a bush of low rambling holly protected her, and they were moving on. Before they were beyond her hearing, however, Louisa spoke again.
“Mary is good-natured enough in many respects,” said she;
“but she does sometimes provoke me excessively, by her nonsense and pride– the Elliot pride. She has a great deal too much of the Elliot pride. We do so wish that Charles had married Anne instead.
I suppose you know he wanted to marry Anne?”
After a moment’s pause, Captain Wentworth said–
“Do you mean that she refused him?”
“Oh! yes; certainly.”
“When did that happen?”
“I do not exactly know, for Henrietta and I were at school at the time; but I believe about a year before he married Mary. I wish she had accepted him. We should all have liked her a great deal better; and papa and mamma always think it was her great friend Lady Russell’s doing, that she did not. They think Charles might not be learned and bookish enough to please Lady Russell, and that therefore, she persuaded Anne to refuse him.”
The sounds were retreating, and Anne distinguished no more.
Her own emotions still kept her fixed. She had much to recover from, before she could move. The listener’s proverbial fate was not absolutely hers; she had heard no evil of herself, but she had heard a great deal of very painful import. She saw how her own character was considered by Captain Wentworth, and there had been just that degree of feeling and curiosity about her in his manner which must give her extreme agitation.
As soon as she could, she went after Mary, and having found, and walked back with her to their former station, by the stile, felt some comfort in their whole party being immediately afterwards collected, and once more in motion together. Her spirits wanted the solitude and silence which only numbers could give.