The party was divided and disposed of on two contiguous benches: Anne was among those on the foremost, and Mr Elliot had manoeuvred so well, with the assistance of his friend Colonel Wallis, as to have a seat by her.
Miss Elliot, surrounded by her cousins, and the principal object of Colonel Wallis’s gallantry, was quite contented.
Anne’s mind was in a most favourable state for the entertainment of the evening; it was just occupation enough: she had feelings for
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the tender, spirits for the gay, attention for the scientific, and patience for the wearisome; and had never liked a concert better, at least during the first act. Towards the close of it, in the interval succeeding an Italian song, she explained the words of the song to Mr Elliot. They had a concert bill between them.
“This,” said she, “is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the words, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be talked of, but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not pretend to understand the language. I am a very poor Italian scholar.”
“Yes, yes, I see you are. I see you know nothing of the matter.
You have only knowledge enough of the language to translate at sight these inverted, transposed, curtailed Italian lines, into clear, comprehensible, elegant English. You need not say anything more of your ignorance. Here is complete proof.”
“I will not oppose such kind politeness; but I should be sorry to be examined by a real proficient.”
“I have not had the pleasure of visiting in Camden Place so long,”
replied he, “without knowing something of Miss Anne Elliot; and I do regard her as one who is too modest for the world in general to be aware of half her accomplishments, and too highly accomplished for modesty to be natural in any other woman.”
“For shame! for shame! this is too much flattery. I forget what we are to have next,” turning to the bill.
“Perhaps,” said Mr Elliot, speaking low, “I have had a longer acquaintance with your character than you are aware of.”
“Indeed! How so? You can have been acquainted with it only since I came to Bath, excepting as you might hear me previously spoken of in my own family.”
“I knew you by report long before you came to Bath. I had heard you described by those who knew you intimately. I have been acquainted with you by character many years. Your person, your disposition, accomplishments, manner; they were all present to me.”
Mr Elliot was not disappointed in the interest he hoped to raise.
No one can withstand the charm of such a mystery. To have been described long ago to a recent acquaintance, by nameless people, is irresistible; and Anne was all curiosity. She wondered, and questioned him eagerly; but in vain. He delighted in being asked, but he would not tell.
“No, no, some time or other, perhaps, but not now. He would mention no names now; but such, he could assure her, had been the fact.
He had many years ago received such a description of Miss Anne Elliot as had inspired him with the highest idea of her merit, and excited the warmest curiosity to know her.”
Anne could think of no one so likely to have spoken with partiality of her many years ago as the Mr Wentworth of Monkford, Captain Wentworth’s brother. He might have been in Mr Elliot’s company,
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but she had not courage to ask the question.
“The name of Anne Elliot,” said he, “has long had an interesting sound to me.
Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I dared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change.”
Such, she believed, were his words; but scarcely had she received their sound, than her attention was caught by other sounds immediately behind her, which rendered every thing else trivial.
Her father and Lady Dalrymple were speaking.
“A well-looking man,” said Sir Walter, “a very well-looking man.”
“A very fine young man indeed!” said Lady Dalrymple. “More air than one often sees in Bath. Irish, I dare say.”