Chapter 11

by Jane Austen

　　The time now approached for Lady Russell's return: the day was even fixed;and Anne, being engaged to join her as soon as she was resettled,was looking forward to an early removal to Kellynch, and beginningto think how her own comfort was likely to be affected by it.

　　It would place her in the same village with Captain Wentworth,within half a mile of him; they would have to frequent the same church,and there must be intercourse between the two families.This was against her; but on the other hand, he spent so much of his timeat Uppercross, that in removing thence she might be considered ratheras leaving him behind, than as going towards him; and, upon the whole,she believed she must, on this interesting question, be the gainer,almost as certainly as in her change of domestic society,in leaving poor Mary for Lady Russell.

　　She wished it might be possible for her to avoid ever seeingCaptain Wentworth at the Hall: those rooms had witnessedformer meetings which would be brought too painfully before her;but she was yet more anxious for the possibility of Lady Russell andCaptain Wentworth never meeting anywhere. They did not like each other,and no renewal of acquaintance now could do any good; and were Lady Russellto see them together, she might think that he had too much self-possession,and she too little.

　　These points formed her chief solicitude in anticipatingher removal from Uppercross, where she felt she had been stationedquite long enough. Her usefulness to little Charles would alwaysgive some sweetness to the memory of her two months' visit there,but he was gaining strength apace, and she had nothing else to stay for.

　　The conclusion of her visit, however, was diversified in a waywhich she had not at all imagined. Captain Wentworth, after being unseenand unheard of at Uppercross for two whole days, appeared again among themto justify himself by a relation of what had kept him away.

　　A letter from his friend, Captain Harville, having found him out at last,had brought intelligence of Captain Harville's being settledwith his family at Lyme for the winter; of their being therefore,quite unknowingly, within twenty miles of each other. Captain Harvillehad never been in good health since a severe wound which he receivedtwo years before, and Captain Wentworth's anxiety to see himhad determined him to go immediately to Lyme. He had been therefor four-and-twenty hours. His acquittal was complete,his friendship warmly honoured, a lively interest excited for his friend,and his description of the fine country about Lyme so feelingly attended toby the party, that an earnest desire to see Lyme themselves,and a project for going thither was the consequence.

　　The young people were all wild to see Lyme. Captain Wentworth talkedof going there again himself, it was only seventeen miles from Uppercross;though November, the weather was by no means bad; and, in short,Louisa, who was the most eager of the eager, having formedthe resolution to go, and besides the pleasure of doing as she liked,being now armed with the idea of merit in maintaining her own way,bore down all the wishes of her father and mother for putting it offtill summer; and to Lyme they were to go--Charles, Mary, Anne, Henrietta,Louisa, and Captain Wentworth.

　　The first heedless scheme had been to go in the morning and return at night;but to this Mr Musgrove, for the sake of his horses, would not consent;and when it came to be rationally considered, a day inthe middle of November would not leave much time for seeing a new place,after deducting seven hours, as the nature of the country required,for going and returning. They were, consequently, to stay the night there,and not to be expected back till the next day's dinner. This was feltto be a considerable amendment; and though they all met at the Great Houseat rather an early breakfast hour, and set off very punctually,it was so much past noon before the two carriages, Mr Musgrove's coachcontaining the four ladies, and Charles's curricle, in whichhe drove Captain Wentworth, were descending the long hill into Lyme,and entering upon the still steeper street of the town itself,that it was very evident they would not have more than timefor looking about them, before the light and warmth of the day were gone.

　　After securing accommodations, and ordering a dinner at one of the inns,the next thing to be done was unquestionably to walk directlydown to the sea. They were come too late in the year for any amusementor variety which Lyme, as a public place, might offer. The roomswere shut up, the lodgers almost all gone, scarcely any familybut of the residents left; and, as there is nothing to admirein the buildings themselves, the remarkable situation of the town,the principal street almost hurrying into the water, the walk to the Cobb,skirting round the pleasant little bay, which, in the season,is animated with bathing machines and company; the Cobb itself,its old wonders and new improvements, with the very beautifulline of cliffs stretching out to the east of the town, are whatthe stranger's eye will seek; and a very strange stranger it must be,who does not see charms in the immediate environs of Lyme,to make him wish to know it better. The scenes in its neighbourhood,Charmouth, with its high grounds and extensive sweeps of country,and still more, its sweet, retired bay, backed by dark cliffs,where fragments of low rock among the sands, make it the happiest spotfor watching the flow of the tide, for sitting in unwearied contemplation;the woody varieties of the cheerful village of Up Lyme; and, above all,Pinny, with its green chasms between romantic rocks, wherethe scattered forest trees and orchards of luxuriant growth,declare that many a generation must have passed away since the firstpartial falling of the cliff prepared the ground for such a state,where a scene so wonderful and so lovely is exhibited, as maymore than equal any of the resembling scenes of the far-famedIsle of Wight: these places must be visited, and visited again,to make the worth of Lyme understood.

　　The party from Uppercross passing down by the now desertedand melancholy looking rooms, and still descending, soon found themselveson the sea-shore; and lingering only, as all must linger and gazeon a first return to the sea, who ever deserved to look on it at all,proceeded towards the Cobb, equally their object in itselfand on Captain Wentworth's account: for in a small house,near the foot of an old pier of unknown date, were the Harvilles settled.Captain Wentworth turned in to call on his friend; the others walked on,and he was to join them on the Cobb.

　　They were by no means tired of wondering and admiring; and not even Louisaseemed to feel that they had parted with Captain Wentworth long,when they saw him coming after them, with three companions,all well known already, by description, to be Captain and Mrs Harville,and a Captain Benwick, who was staying with them.

　　Captain Benwick had some time ago been first lieutenant of the Laconia;and the account which Captain Wentworth had given of him,on his return from Lyme before, his warm praise of him asan excellent young man and an officer, whom he had always valued highly,which must have stamped him well in the esteem of every listener,had been followed by a little history of his private life,which rendered him perfectly interesting in the eyes of all the ladies.He had been engaged to Captain Harville's sister, and was nowmourning her loss. They had been a year or two waiting for fortuneand promotion. Fortune came, his prize-money as lieutenant being great;promotion, too, came at last; but Fanny Harville did not live to know it.She had died the preceding summer while he was at sea. Captain Wentworthbelieved it impossible for man to be more attached to womanthan poor Benwick had been to Fanny Harville, or to be more deeplyafflicted under the dreadful change. He considered his dispositionas of the sort which must suffer heavily, uniting very strong feelingswith quiet, serious, and retiring manners, and a decided taste for reading,and sedentary pursuits. To finish the interest of the story,the friendship between him and the Harvilles seemed, if possible,augmented by the event which closed all their views of alliance,and Captain Benwick was now living with them entirely. Captain Harvillehad taken his present house for half a year; his taste, and his health,and his fortune, all directing him to a residence inexpensive,and by the sea; and the grandeur of the country, and the retirementof Lyme in the winter, appeared exactly adapted to Captain Benwick'sstate of mind. The sympathy and good-will excited towards Captain Benwickwas very great.

　　"And yet," said Anne to herself, as they now moved forwardto meet the party, "he has not, perhaps, a more sorrowing heartthan I have. I cannot believe his prospects so blighted for ever.He is younger than I am; younger in feeling, if not in fact;younger as a man. He will rally again, and be happy with another."

　　They all met, and were introduced. Captain Harville was a tall,dark man, with a sensible, benevolent countenance; a little lame;and from strong features and want of health, looking much olderthan Captain Wentworth. Captain Benwick looked, and was,the youngest of the three, and, compared with either of them,a little man. He had a pleasing face and a melancholy air,just as he ought to have, and drew back from conversation.

　　Captain Harville, though not equalling Captain Wentworth in manners,was a perfect gentleman, unaffected, warm, and obliging.Mrs Harville, a degree less polished than her husband, seemed, however,to have the same good feelings; and nothing could be more pleasantthan their desire of considering the whole party as friends of their own,because the friends of Captain Wentworth, or more kindly hospitablethan their entreaties for their all promising to dine with them.The dinner, already ordered at the inn, was at last, though unwillingly,accepted as a excuse; but they seemed almost hurt that Captain Wentworthshould have brought any such party to Lyme, without considering itas a thing of course that they should dine with them.

　　There was so much attachment to Captain Wentworth in all this,and such a bewitching charm in a degree of hospitality so uncommon,so unlike the usual style of give-and-take invitations, and dinnersof formality and display, that Anne felt her spirits not likely to bebenefited by an increasing acquaintance among his brother-officers."These would have been all my friends," was her thought;and she had to struggle against a great tendency to lowness.

　　On quitting the Cobb, they all went in-doors with their new friends,and found rooms so small as none but those who invite from the heartcould think capable of accommodating so many. Anne hada moment's astonishment on the subject herself; but it was soon lostin the pleasanter feelings which sprang from the sight of allthe ingenious contrivances and nice arrangements of Captain Harville,to turn the actual space to the best account, to supply the deficienciesof lodging-house furniture, and defend the windows and doorsagainst the winter storms to be expected. The varieties inthe fitting-up of the rooms, where the common necessariesprovided by the owner, in the common indifferent plight,were contrasted with some few articles of a rare species of wood,excellently worked up, and with something curious and valuablefrom all the distant countries Captain Harville had visited,were more than amusing to Anne; connected as it all was with his profession,the fruit of its labours, the effect of its influence on his habits,the picture of repose and domestic happiness it presented,made it to her a something more, or less, than gratification.

　　Captain Harville was no reader; but he had contrivedexcellent accommodations, and fashioned very pretty shelves,for a tolerable collection of well-bound volumes, the property ofCaptain Benwick. His lameness prevented him from taking much exercise;but a mind of usefulness and ingenuity seemed to furnish him withconstant employment within. He drew, he varnished, he carpentered,he glued; he made toys for the children; he fashioned new netting-needlesand pins with improvements; and if everything else was done,sat down to his large fishing-net at one corner of the room.

　　Anne thought she left great happiness behind her when theyquitted the house; and Louisa, by whom she found herself walking,burst forth into raptures of admiration and delight on the characterof the navy; their friendliness, their brotherliness, their openness,their uprightness; protesting that she was convinced of sailors havingmore worth and warmth than any other set of men in England;that they only knew how to live, and they only deserved to berespected and loved.

　　They went back to dress and dine; and so well had the schemeanswered already, that nothing was found amiss; though its being"so entirely out of season," and the "no thoroughfare of Lyme,"and the "no expectation of company," had brought many apologiesfrom the heads of the inn.

　　Anne found herself by this time growing so much more hardenedto being in Captain Wentworth's company than she had at first imaginedcould ever be, that the sitting down to the same table with him now,and the interchange of the common civilities attending on it(they never got beyond), was become a mere nothing.

　　The nights were too dark for the ladies to meet again till the morrow,but Captain Harville had promised them a visit in the evening;and he came, bringing his friend also, which was more thanhad been expected, it having been agreed that Captain Benwickhad all the appearance of being oppressed by the presence ofso many strangers. He ventured among them again, however,though his spirits certainly did not seem fit for the mirthof the party in general.

　　While Captains Wentworth and Harville led the talk on one side of the room,and by recurring to former days, supplied anecdotes in abundanceto occupy and entertain the others, it fell to Anne's lot to be placedrather apart with Captain Benwick; and a very good impulseof her nature obliged her to begin an acquaintance with him.He was shy, and disposed to abstraction; but the engaging mildness ofher countenance, and gentleness of her manners, soon had their effect;and Anne was well repaid the first trouble of exertion.He was evidently a young man of considerable taste in reading,though principally in poetry; and besides the persuasion of havinggiven him at least an evening's indulgence in the discussion of subjects,which his usual companions had probably no concern in, she had the hopeof being of real use to him in some suggestions as to the duty andbenefit of struggling against affliction, which had naturally grown outof their conversation. For, though shy, he did not seem reserved;it had rather the appearance of feelings glad to burst theirusual restraints; and having talked of poetry, the richness ofthe present age, and gone through a brief comparison of opinionas to the first-rate poets, trying to ascertain whether Marmionor The Lady of the Lake were to be preferred, and how ranked the Giaourand The Bride of Abydos; and moreover, how the Giaour was to be pronounced,he showed himself so intimately acquainted with all the tenderest songsof the one poet, and all the impassioned descriptions of hopeless agonyof the other; he repeated, with such tremulous feeling, the various lineswhich imaged a broken heart, or a mind destroyed by wretchedness,and looked so entirely as if he meant to be understood,that she ventured to hope he did not always read only poetry,and to say, that she thought it was the misfortune of poetry to beseldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoyed it completely;and that the strong feelings which alone could estimate it trulywere the very feelings which ought to taste it but sparingly.

　　His looks shewing him not pained, but pleased with this allusionto his situation, she was emboldened to go on; and feeling in herselfthe right of seniority of mind, she ventured to recommenda larger allowance of prose in his daily study; and on being requestedto particularize, mentioned such works of our best moralists,such collections of the finest letters, such memoirs of charactersof worth and suffering, as occurred to her at the momentas calculated to rouse and fortify the mind by the highest precepts,and the strongest examples of moral and religious endurances.

　　Captain Benwick listened attentively, and seemed grateful forthe interest implied; and though with a shake of the head,and sighs which declared his little faith in the efficacy of any bookson grief like his, noted down the names of those she recommended,and promised to procure and read them.

　　When the evening was over, Anne could not but be amused at the ideaof her coming to Lyme to preach patience and resignation to a young manwhom she had never seen before; nor could she help fearing,on more serious reflection, that, like many other great moralistsand preachers, she had been eloquent on a point in which her own conductwould ill bear examination.