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Полноe собраниe «Ювенилии»

Впервые на русском языке опубли ковано на A'propos:

Ранние произведения Джейн Остен «Ювенилии» на русском языке

«"Ювенилии" Джейн Остен, как они известны нам, состоят из трех отдельных тетрадей (книжках для записей, вроде дневниковых). Названия на соответствующих тетрадях написаны почерком самой Джейн...»

О ранних произведениях Джейн Остен «Джейн Остен начала писать очень рано. Самые первые, детские пробы ее пера, написанные ради забавы и развлечения и предназначавшиеся не более чем для чтения вслух в узком домашнем кругу, вряд ли имели шанс сохраниться для потомков; но, к счастью, до нас дошли три рукописные тетради с ее подростковыми опытами, с насмешливой серьезностью озаглавленные автором «Том первый», «Том второй» и «Том третий». В этот трехтомный манускрипт вошли ранние произведения Джейн, созданные ею с 1787 по 1793 год...»


Джейн Остин и ее роман "Гордость и предубеждение"

* Знакомство с героями. Первые впечатления
* Нежные признания
* Любовь по-английски, или положение женщины в грегорианской Англии
* Счастье в браке
* Популярные танцы во времена Джейн Остин
* Дискуссии о пеших прогулках и дальних путешествиях
* О женском образовании и «синих чулках»
* Джейн Остин и денди
* Гордость Джейн Остин
* Мэнсфилд-парк Джейн Остен «Анализ "Мэнсфилд-парка", предложенный В. Набоковым, интересен прежде всего взглядом писателя, а не критика...» и др.


«Новогодниe (рождественские) истории»:

Новогодняя история «...устроилась поудобнее на заднем сидении, предвкушая поездку по вечернему Нижнему Новгороду. Она расстегнула куртку и похолодела: сумочки на ремне, в которой она везла деньги, не было… Полторы тысячи баксов на новогодние покупки, причем половина из них − чужие.  «Господи, какой ужас! Где она? Когда я могла снять сумку?» − Стойте, остановитесь! − закричала она водителю...»

Метель в пути, или Немецко-польский экзерсис на шпионской почве «В эти декабрьские дни 1811 года Вестхоф выхлопотал себе служебную поездку в Литву не столько по надобности министерства, сколько по указанию, тайно полученному из Франции: наладить в Вильне работу агентурных служб в связи с дислокацией там Первой Западной российской армии. По прибытии на место ему следовало встретиться с неким Казимиром Пржанским, возглавляющим виленскую сеть, выслушать его отчет, отдать необходимые распоряжения и самолично проследить за их исполнением...»

Башмачок «- Что за черт?! - Муравский едва успел перехватить на лету какой-то предмет, запущенный прямо ему в лицо.
- Какого черта?! – разозлившись, опять выругался он, при слабом лунном свете пытаясь рассмотреть пойманную вещь. Ботинок! Маленький, явно женский, из мягкой кожи... Муравский оценивающе взвесил его на руке. Легкий. Попади он в цель, удар не нанес бы ему ощутимого вреда, но все равно как-то не очень приятно получить по лицу ботинком. Ни с того, ни с сего...»

О, малыш, не плачь... «...чего и следовало ожидать! Три дня продержалась теплая погода, все растаяло, а нынче ночью снова заморозки. Ну, конечно, без несчастных случаев не обойтись! – так судачили бабки, когда шедшая рядом в темной арке девушка, несмотря на осторожность, поскользнулась и все-таки упала, грохоча тяжелыми сумками...»

Вкус жизни «Где-то внизу загремело, отдалось музыкальным звуком, словно уронили рояль или, по меньшей мере, контрабас. Рояль или контрабас? Он с трудом разлепил глаза и повернулся на бок, обнаружив, что соседняя подушка пуста...»


«Водоворот» - Любовно-исторический роман на фоне событий 1812 года - зарождение любви "ледяной баронессы" Евдокии фон Айслихт и знаменитого генерала графа Павла Палевского.

из журнала на liveinternet

Триктрак «Они пробуждаются и выбираются на свет, когда далекие часы на башне бьют полночь. Они заполняют коридоры, тишину которых днем лишь изредка нарушали случайные шаги да скрипы старого дома. Словно открывается занавес, и начинается спектакль, звучит интерлюдия, крутится диск сцены, меняя декорацию, и гурьбой высыпают актеры: кто на кухню с чайником, кто - к соседям, поболтать или за конспектом, а кто - в сторону пятачка на лестничной площадке - покурить у разбитого окна...»

«Гвоздь и подкова» Англия, осень 1536 года, время правления короля Генриха VIII, Тюдора «Северные графства охвачены мятежом католиков, на дорогах бесчинствуют грабители. Крик совы-предвестницы в ночи и встреча в пути, которая повлечет за собой клубок событий, изменивших течение судеб. Таинственный незнакомец спасает молодую леди, попавшую в руки разбойников. Влиятельный джентльмен просит ее руки, предлагая аннулировать брак с давно покинувшим ее мужем. Как сложатся жизни, к чему приведут случайные встречи и горькие расставания, опасные грехи и мучительное раскаяние, нежданная любовь и сжигающая ненависть, преступление и возмездие?...»

«По-восточному» «— В сотый раз повторяю, что никогда не видела этого ти... человека... до того как села рядом с ним в самолете, не видела, — простонала я, со злостью чувствуя, как задрожал голос, а к глазам подступила соленая, готовая выплеснуться жалостливой слабостью, волна...»

Моя любовь - мой друг «Время похоже на красочный сон после галлюциногенов. Вы видите его острые стрелки, которые, разрезая воздух, порхают над головой, выписывая замысловатые узоры, и ничего не можете поделать. Время неуловимо и неумолимо. А вы лишь наблюдатель. Созерцатель...»

Жизнь в формате штрих-кода «...Видя, что начальник не теряет своего благодушия, Маша дернула головой и, воздев глаза к небу, отправилась в приемную к столу секретарши .. «согласно обычаям делового оборота», как чопорно выражался их юрисконсульт-стажер, а сама прекрасно знала, что Юля – редкий подарок. С приходом этой девочки в их юридической конторе наконец-то был наведен порядок: как-то сама собой заправлялась бумага в принтеры и факсы, сами собой заменялись исписанные...»

«Мой нежный повар» Неожиданная встреча на проселочной дороге, перевернувшая жизнь

«Записки совы» Развод... Жизненная катастрофа или начало нового пути?

«Все кувырком» Оказывается, что иногда важно оказаться не в то время не в том месте

В поисках принца или О спящей принцессе замолвите слово «Еловая ветка отскочила и больно ударила по лицу... И что взбрело им в голову тащиться в этот Заколдованный лес?!..»

«Русские каникулы» История о том, как найти и не потерять свою судьбу

«Пинг-понг» Море, солнце, курортный роман... или встреча своей половинки?

«Наваждение» «Аэропорт гудел как встревоженный улей: встречающие, провожающие, гул голосов, перебиваемый объявлениями…»

«Цена крови» «Каин сидел над телом брата, не понимая, что произошло. И лишь спустя некоторое время он осознал, что ватная тишина, окутавшая его, разрывается пронзительным и неуемным телефонным звонком...»

«Принц» «− Женщина, можно к вам обратиться? – слышу откуда-то слева и, вздрогнув, останавливаюсь. Что со мной не так? Пятый за последние полчаса поклонник зеленого змия, явно отдавший ему всю свою трепетную натуру, обращается ко мне, тревожно заглядывая в глаза. Что со мной не так?...»


«Персонажица» в «худло»

Осторожно,

Ещё один перевод
романа Дж.Остин
«Гордость и предубеждение»


Мы путешествуем:

Я опять хочу Париж! «Я любила тебя всегда, всю жизнь, с самого детства, зачитываясь Дюма и Жюлем Верном. Эта любовь со мной и сейчас, когда я сижу...»

История Белозерского края «Деревянные дома, резные наличники, купола церквей, земляной вал — украшение центра, синева озера, захватывающая дух, тихие тенистые улочки, березы, палисадники, полные цветов, немноголюдье, окающий распевный говор белозеров...»

Венгерские впечатления «оформила я все документы и через две недели уже ехала к границе совершать свое первое заграничное путешествие – в Венгрию...»

Болгария за окном «Один день вполне достаточен проехать на машине с одного конца страны до другого, и даже вернуться, если у вас машина быстрая и, если повезет с дорогами...»

Одесская мозаика: «2 сентября - День рождения Одессы. Сегодня (02.09.2009) по паспорту ей исполнилось 215 – как для города, так совсем немного. Согласитесь, что это хороший повод сказать пару слов за именинницу…»


Библиотека Путешествий
(Тур Хейердал)

Путешествие на "Кон-Тики": «Если вы пускаетесь в плавание по океану на деревянном плоту с попугаем и пятью спутниками, то раньше или позже неизбежно случится следующее: одним прекрасным утром вы проснетесь в океане, выспавшись, быть может, лучше обычного, и начнете думать о том, как вы тут очутились...»

Тур Хейердал, Тайна острова Пасхи Тайна острова Пасхи: «Они воздвигали гигантские каменные фигуры людей, высотою с дом, тяжелые, как железнодорожный вагон. Множество таких фигур они перетаскивали через горы и долины, устанавливая их стоймя на массивных каменных террасах по всему острову. Загадочные ваятели исчезли во мраке ушедших веков. Что же произошло на острове Пасхи?...»


Первооткрыватели

Путешествия западноевропейских мореплавателей и исследователей: «Уже в X веке смелые мореходы викинги на быстроходных килевых лодках "драконах" плавали из Скандинавии через Северную Атлантику к берегам Винланда ("Виноградной страны"), как они назвали Северную Америку...»



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«Литературные забавы»


 

О жизни и творчестве Джейн Остин

Библиотека

Persuasion
by Jane Austen

Начало      Пред. гл.


Chapter 7

very few days more, and Captain Wentworth was known to be at Kellynch, and Mr. Musgrove had called on him, and come back warm in his praise, and he was engaged with the Crofts to dine at Uppercross, by the end of another week. It had been a great disappointment to Mr. Musgrove, to find that no earlier day could be fixed, so impatient was he to shew his gratitude, by seeing Captain Wentworth under his own roof, and welcoming him to all that was strongest and best in his cellars. But a week must pass; only a week, in Anne’s reckoning, and then, she supposed, they must meet; and soon she began to wish that she could feel secure even for a week.
    Captain Wentworth made a very early return to Mr. Musgrove’s civility, and she was all but calling there in the same half hour!—She and Mary were actually setting forward for the great house, where, as she afterwards learnt, they must inevitably have found him, when they were stopped by the eldest boy’s being at that moment brought home in consequence of a bad fall. The child’s situation put the visit entirely aside, but she could not hear of her escape with indifference, even in the midst of the serious anxiety which they afterwards felt on his account.
    His collar-bone was found to be dislocated, and such injury received in the back, as roused the most alarming ideas. It was an afternoon of distress, and Anne had every thing to do at once — the apothecary to send for — the father to have pursued and informed — the mother to support and keep from hysterics — the servants to control — the youngest child to banish, and the poor suffering one to attend and soothe; — besides sending, as soon as she recollected it, proper notice to the other house, which brought her an accession rather of frightened, enquiring companions, than of very useful assistants.
    Her brother’s return was the first comfort; he could take best care of his wife, and the second blessing was the arrival of the apothecary. Till he came and had examined the child, their apprehensions were the worse for being vague; — they suspected great injury, but knew not where; but now the collar-bone was soon replaced, and though Mr. Robinson felt and felt, and rubbed, and looked grave, and spoke low words both to the father and the aunt, still they were all to hope the best, and to be able to part and eat their dinner in tolerable ease of mind; and then it was, just before they parted, that the two young aunts were able so far to digress from their nephew’s state, as to give the information of Captain Wentworth’s visit; — staying five minutes behind their father and mother, to endeavour to express how perfectly delighted they were with him, how much handsomer, how infinitely more agreeable they thought him than any individual among their male acquaintance, who had been at all a favourite before — how glad they had been to hear papa invite him to stay dinner — how sorry when he said it was quite out of his power — and how glad again, when he had promised in reply to papa and mamma’s farther pressing invitations, to come and dine with them on the morrow, actually on the morrow! — And he had promised it in so pleasant a manner, as if he felt all the motive of their attention just as he ought! — And, in short, he had looked and said everything with such exquisite grace, that they could assure them all, their heads were both turned by him! — And off they ran, quite as full of glee as of love, and apparently more full of Captain Wentworth than of little Charles.
    The same story and the same raptures were repeated, when the two girls came with their father, through the gloom of the evening, to make enquiries; and Mr. Musgrove, no longer under the first uneasiness about his heir, could add his confirmation and praise, and hope there would be now no occasion for putting Captain Wentworth off, and only be sorry to think that the cottage party, probably, would not like to leave the little boy, to give him the meeting. — ”Oh, no! as to leaving the little boy!”— both father and mother were in much too strong and recent alarm to bear the thought; and Anne, in the joy of the escape, could not help adding her warm protestations to theirs.
    Charles Musgrove, indeed, afterwards shewed more of inclination; “the child was going on so well — and he wished so much to be introduced to Captain Wentworth, that, perhaps, he might join them in the evening; he would not dine from home, but he might walk in for half an hour.” But in this he was eagerly opposed by his wife, with “Oh, no! indeed, Charles, I cannot bear to have you go away. Only think if anything should happen!”
    The child had a good night, and was going on well the next day. It must be a work of time to ascertain that no injury had been done to the spine, but Mr. Robinson found nothing to increase alarm, and Charles Musgrove began consequently to feel no necessity for longer confinement. The child was to be kept in bed, and amused as quietly as possible; but what was there for a father to do? This was quite a female case, and it would be highly absurd in him, who could be of no use at home, to shut himself up. His father very much wished him to meet Captain Wentworth, and there being no sufficient reason against it, he ought to go; and it ended in his making a bold public declaration, when he came in from shooting, of his meaning to dress directly, and dine at the other house.
    “Nothing can be going on better than the child,” said he, “so I told my father just now that I would come, and he thought me quite right. Your sister being with you, my love, I have no scruple at all. You would not like to leave him yourself, but you see I can be of no use. Anne will send for me if anything is the matter.”
    Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain. Mary knew, from Charles’s manner of speaking, that he was quite determined on going, and that it would be of no use to teaze him. She said nothing, therefore, till he was out of the room, but as soon as there was only Anne to hear,
    “So! You and I are to be left to shift by ourselves, with this poor sick child — and not a creature coming near us all the evening! I knew how it would be. This is always my luck! If there is anything disagreeable going on, men are always sure to get out of it, and Charles is as bad as any of them. Very unfeeling! I must say it is very unfeeling of him, to be running away from his poor little boy; talks of his being going on so well! How does he know that he is going on well, or that there may not be a sudden change half an hour hence? I did not think Charles would have been so unfeeling. So, here he is to go away and enjoy himself, and because I am the poor mother, I am not to be allowed to stir; — and yet, I am sure, I am more unfit than any body else to be about the child. My being the mother is the very reason why my feelings should not be tried. I am not at all equal to it. You saw how hysterical I was yesterday.”
    “But that was only the effect of the suddenness of your alarm — of the shock. You will not be hysterical again. I dare say we shall have nothing to distress us. I perfectly understand Mr. Robinson’s directions, and have no fears; and indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder at your husband. Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not his province. A sick child is always the mother’s property, her own feelings generally make it so.”
    “I hope I am as fond of my child as any mother — but I do not know that I am of any more use in the sick-room than Charles, for I cannot be always scolding and teazing the poor child when it is ill; and you saw, this morning, that if I told him to keep quiet, he was sure to begin kicking about. I have not nerves for the sort of thing.”
    “But, could you be comfortable yourself, to be spending the whole evening away from the poor boy?”
    “Yes; you see his papa can, and why should not I? — Jemima is so careful! And she could send us word every hour how he was. I really think Charles might as well have told his father we would all come. I am not more alarmed about little Charles now than he is. I was dreadfully alarmed yesterday, but the case is very different today.”
    “Well — if you do not think it too late to give notice for yourself, suppose you were to go, as well as your husband. Leave little Charles to my care. Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove cannot think it wrong, while I remain with him.”
    “Are you serious?” cried Mary, her eyes brightening. “Dear me! that’s a very good thought, very good indeed. To be sure I may just as well go as not, for I am of no use at home — am I? and it only harasses me. You, who have not a mother’s feelings, are a great deal the properest person. You can make little Charles do anything; he always minds you at a word. It will be a great deal better than leaving him only with Jemima. Oh! I will certainly go; I am sure I ought if I can, quite as much as Charles, for they want me excessively to be acquainted with Captain Wentworth, and I know you do not mind being left alone. An excellent thought of yours, indeed, Anne! I will go and tell Charles, and get ready directly. You can send for us, you know, at a moment’s notice, if anything is the matter; but I dare say there will be nothing to alarm you. I should not go, you may be sure, if I did not feel quite at ease about my dear child.”
    The next moment she was tapping at her husband’s dressing-room door, and as Anne followed her up stairs, she was in time for the whole conversation, which began with Mary’s saying, in a tone of great exultation,
    “I mean to go with you, Charles, for I am of no more use at home than you are. If I were to shut myself up for ever with the child, I should not be able to persuade him to do anything he did not like. Anne will stay; Anne undertakes to stay at home and take care of him. It is Anne’s own proposal, and so I shall go with you, which will be a great deal better, for I have not dined at the other house since Tuesday.”
    “This is very kind of Anne,” was her husband’s answer, “and I should be very glad to have you go; but it seems rather hard that she should be left at home by herself, to nurse our sick child.”
    Anne was now at hand to take up her own cause, and the sincerity of her manner being soon sufficient to convince him, where conviction was at least very agreeable, he had no farther scruples as to her being left to dine alone, though he still wanted her to join them in the evening, when the child might be at rest for the night, and kindly urged her to let him come and fetch her; but she was quite unpersuadable; and this being the case, she had ere long the pleasure of seeing them set off together in high spirits. They were gone, she hoped, to be happy, however oddly constructed such happiness might seem; as for herself, she was left with as many sensations of comfort, as were, perhaps, ever likely to be hers. She knew herself to be of the first utility to the child; and what was it to her, if Frederick Wentworth were only half a mile distant, making himself agreeable to others!
    She would have liked to know how he felt as to a meeting. Perhaps indifferent, if indifference could exist under such circumstances. He must be either indifferent or unwilling. Had he wished ever to see her again, he need not have waited till this time; he would have done what she could not but believe that in his place she should have done long ago, when events had been early giving him the independence which alone had been wanting.
    Her brother and sister came back delighted with their new acquaintance, and their visit in general. There had been music, singing, talking, laughing, all that was most agreeable; charming manners in Captain Wentworth, no shyness or reserve; they seemed all to know each other perfectly, and he was coming the very next morning to shoot with Charles. He was to come to breakfast, but not at the Cottage, though that had been proposed at first; but then he had been pressed to come to the Great House instead, and he seemed afraid of being in Mrs. Charles Musgrove’s way, on account of the child; and therefore, somehow, they hardly knew how, it ended in Charles’s being to meet him to breakfast at his father’s.
    Anne understood it. He wished to avoid seeing her. He had inquired after her, she found, slightly, as might suit a former slight acquaintance, seeming to acknowledge such as she had acknowledged, actuated, perhaps, by the same view of escaping introduction when they were to meet.
    The morning hours of the Cottage were always later than those of the other house; and on the morrow the difference was so great, that Mary and Anne were not more than beginning breakfast when Charles came in to say that they were just setting off, that he was come for his dogs, that his sisters were following with Captain Wentworth, his sisters meaning to visit Mary and the child, and Captain Wentworth proposing also to wait on her for a few minutes, if not inconvenient; and though Charles had answered for the child’s being in no such state as could make it inconvenient, Captain Wentworth would not be satisfied without his running on to give notice.
    Mary, very much gratified by this attention, was delighted to receive him; while a thousand feelings rushed on Anne, of which this was the most consoling, that it would soon be over. And it was soon over. In two minutes after Charles’s preparation, the others appeared; they were in the drawing-room. Her eye half met Captain Wentworth’s, a bow, a curtsey passed; she heard his voice — he talked to Mary, said all that was right; said something to the Miss Musgroves, enough to mark an easy footing: the room seemed full — full of persons and voices — but a few minutes ended it. Charles shewed himself at the window, all was ready, their visitor had bowed and was gone; the Miss Musgroves were gone too, suddenly resolving to walk to the end of the village with the sportsmen: the room was cleared, and Anne might finish her breakfast as she could.
    “It is over! it is over!” she repeated to herself again, and again, in nervous gratitude. “The worst is over!”
    Mary talked, but she could not attend. She had seen him. They had met. They had been once more in the same room!
    Soon, however, she began to reason with herself, and try to be feeling less. Eight years, almost eight years had passed, since all had been given up. How absurd to be resuming the agitation which such an interval had banished into distance and indistinctness! What might not eight years do? Events of every description, changes, alienations, removals, — all, all must be comprised in it; and oblivion of the past — how natural, how certain too! It included nearly a third part of her own life.
    Alas! with all her reasoning, she found, that to retentive feelings eight years may be little more than nothing.
    Now, how were his sentiments to be read? Was this like wishing to avoid her? And the next moment she was hating herself for the folly which asked the question.
    On one other question, which perhaps her utmost wisdom might not have prevented, she was soon spared all suspense; for, after the Miss Musgroves had returned and finished their visit at the Cottage, she had this spontaneous information from Mary:
    “Captain Wentworth is not very gallant by you, Anne, though he was so attentive to me. Henrietta asked him what he thought of you, when they went away; and he said, “You were so altered he should not have known you again.” Mary had no feelings to make her respect her sister’s in a common way, but she was perfectly unsuspicious of being inflicting any peculiar wound.
    “Altered beyond his knowledge!” Anne fully submitted, in silent, deep mortification. Doubtless it was so; and she could take no revenge, for he was not altered, or not for the worse. She had already acknowledged it to herself, and she could not think differently, let him think of her as he would. No; the years which had destroyed her youth and bloom had only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in no respect lessening his personal advantages. She had seen the same Frederick Wentworth.
    “So altered that he should not have known her again!” These were words which could not but dwell with her. Yet she soon began to rejoice that she had heard them. They were of sobering tendency; they allayed agitation; they composed, and consequently must make her happier.
    Frederick Wentworth had used such words, or something like them, but without an idea that they would be carried round to her. He had thought her wretchedly altered, and, in the first moment of appeal, had spoken as he felt. He had not forgiven Anne Elliot. She had used him ill; deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she had shewn a feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confident temper could not endure. She had given him up to oblige others. It had been the effect of over-persuasion. It had been weakness and timidity.
    He had been most warmly attached to her, and had never seen a woman since whom he thought her equal; but, except from some natural sensation of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again. Her power with him was gone for ever.
    It was now his object to marry. He was rich, and being turned on shore, fully intended to settle as soon as he could be properly tempted; actually looking round, ready to fall in love with all the speed which a clear head and a quick taste could allow. He had a heart for either of the Miss Musgroves, if they could catch it; a heart, in short, for any pleasing young woman who came in his way, excepting Anne Elliot. This was his only secret exception, when he said to his sister, in answer to her suppositions,
    “Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match. Any body between fifteen and thirty may have me for asking. A little beauty, and a few smiles, and a few compliments to the navy, and I am a lost man. Should not this be enough for a sailor, who has had no society among women to make him nice?”
    He said it, she knew, to be contradicted. His bright, proud eye spoke the conviction that he was nice; and Anne Elliot was not out of his thoughts, when he more seriously described the woman he should wish to meet with. “A strong mind, with sweetness of manner,” made the first and the last of the description.
    “This is the woman I want, said he. Something a little inferior I shall of course put up with, but it must not be much. If I am a fool, I shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more than most men.”


Chapter 8

rom this time Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot were repeatedly in the same circle. They were soon dining in company together at Mr. Musgrove’s, for the little boy’s state could no longer supply his aunt with a pretence for absenting herself; and this was but the beginning of other dinings and other meetings.
    Whether former feelings were to be renewed must be brought to the proof; former times must undoubtedly be brought to the recollection of each; they could not but be reverted to; the year of their engagement could not but be named by him, in the little narratives or descriptions which conversation called forth. His profession qualified him, his disposition lead him, to talk; and “That was in the year six;” “That happened before I went to sea in the year six,” occurred in the course of the first evening they spent together: and though his voice did not falter, and though she had no reason to suppose his eye wandering towards her while he spoke, Anne felt the utter impossibility, from her knowledge of his mind, that he could be unvisited by remembrance any more than herself. There must be the same immediate association of thought, though she was very far from conceiving it to be of equal pain.
    They had no conversation together, no intercourse but what the commonest civility required. Once so much to each other! Now nothing! There had been a time, when of all the large party now filling the drawing-room at Uppercross, they would have found it most difficult to cease to speak to one another. With the exception, perhaps, of Admiral and Mrs. Croft, who seemed particularly attached and happy, (Anne could allow no other exceptions even among the married couples) there could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.
    When he talked, she heard the same voice, and discerned the same mind. There was a very general ignorance of all naval matters throughout the party; and he was very much questioned, and especially by the two Miss Musgroves, who seemed hardly to have any eyes but for him, as to the manner of living on board, daily regulations, food, hours, &c.; and their surprise at his accounts, at learning the degree of accommodation and arrangement which was practicable, drew from him some pleasant ridicule, which reminded Anne of the early days when she too had been ignorant, and she too had been accused of supposing sailors to be living on board without anything to eat, or any cook to dress it if there were, or any servant to wait, or any knife and fork to use.
    From thus listening and thinking, she was roused by a whisper of Mrs. Musgrove’s, who, overcome by fond regrets, could not help saying,
    “Ah! Miss Anne, if it had pleased Heaven to spare my poor son, I dare say he would have been just such another by this time.”
    Anne suppressed a smile, and listened kindly, while Mrs. Musgrove relieved her heart a little more; and for a few minutes, therefore, could not keep pace with the conversation of the others.— When she could let her attention take its natural course again, she found the Miss Musgroves just fetching the navy-list, — (their own navy list, the first that had ever been at Uppercross); and sitting down together to pore over it, with the professed view of finding out the ships that Captain Wentworth had commanded.
    “Your first was the Asp, I remember; we will look for the Asp.”
    “You will not find her there.— Quite worn out and broken up. I was the last man who commanded her. — Hardly fit for service then.— Reported fit for home service for a year or two,— and so I was sent off to the West Indies.” The girls looked all amazement.
    “The admiralty,” he continued, “entertain themselves now and then, with sending a few hundred men to sea, in a ship not fit to be employed. But they have a great many to provide for; and among the thousands that may just as well go to the bottom as not, it is impossible for them to distinguish the very set who may be least missed.”
    “Phoo! phoo!” cried the admiral, “what stuff these young fellows talk! Never was a better sloop than the Asp in her day. — For an old built sloop, you would not see her equal. Lucky fellow to get her! — He knows there must have been twenty better men than himself applying for her at the same time. Lucky fellow to get any thing so soon, with no more interest than his.”
    “I felt my luck, admiral, I assure you;” replied Captain Wentworth, seriously. — ”I was as well satisfied with my appointment as you can desire. It was a great object with me, at that time, to be at sea, — a very great object. I wanted to be doing something.”
    “To be sure you did. — What should a young fellow, like you, do ashore, for half a year together? — If a man had not a wife, he soon wants to be afloat again.”
    “But, Captain Wentworth,” cried Louisa, “how vexed you must have been when you came to the Asp, to see what an old thing they had given you.”
    “I knew pretty well what she was, before that day;” said he, smiling. “I had no more discoveries to make, than you would have as to the fashion and strength of any old pelisse, which you had seen lent about among half your acquaintance, ever since you could remember, and which at last, on some very wet day, is lent to yourself. — Ah! she was a dear old Asp to me. She did all that I wanted. I knew she would. — I knew that we should either go to the bottom together, or that she would be the making of me; and I never had two days of foul weather all the time I was at sea in her; and after taking privateers enough to be very entertaining, I had the good luck, in my passage home the next autumn, to fall in with the very French frigate I wanted. — I brought her into Plymouth; and here another instance of luck. We had not been six hours in the Sound, when a gale came on, which lasted four days and nights, and which would have done for poor old Asp, in half the time; our touch with the Great Nation not having much improved our condition. Four-and-twenty hours later, and I should only have been a gallant Captain Wentworth, in a small paragraph at one corner of the newspapers; and being lost in only a sloop, nobody would have thought about me.”
    Anne’s shudderings were to herself, alone: but the Miss Musgroves could be as open as they were sincere, in their exclamations of pity and horror.
    “And so then, I suppose,” said Mrs. Musgrove, in a low voice, as if thinking aloud, “so then he went away to the Laconia, and there he met with our poor boy. — Charles, my dear,’ (beckoning him to her), “do ask Captain Wentworth where it was he first met with your poor brother. I always forget.”
    “It was at Gibraltar, mother, I know. Dick had been left ill at Gibraltar, with a recommendation from his former captain to Captain Wentworth.”
    “Oh! — but, Charles, tell Captain Wentworth, he need not be afraid of mentioning poor Dick before me, for it would be rather a pleasure to hear him talked of, by such a good friend.”
    Charles, being somewhat more mindful of the probabilities of the case, only nodded in reply, and walked away. The girls were now hunting for the Laconia; and Captain Wentworth could not deny himself the pleasure of taking the precious volume into his own hands to save them the trouble, and once more read aloud the little statement of her name and rate, and present non-commissioned class, observing over it, that she too had been one of the best friends man ever had.
    “Ah! those were pleasant days when I had the Laconia! How fast I made money in her. — A friend of mine, and I, had such a lovely cruise together off the Western Islands.— Poor Harville, sister! You know how much he wanted money — worse than myself. He had a wife. — Excellent fellow! I shall never forget his happiness. He felt it all, so much for her sake. — I wished for him again the next summer, when I had still the same luck in the Mediterranean.”
    “And I am sure, Sir,” said Mrs. Musgrove, “it was a lucky day for us, when you were put captain into that ship. We shall never forget what you did.”
    Her feelings made her speak low; and Captain Wentworth, hearing only in part, and probably not having Dick Musgrove at all near his thoughts, looked rather in suspense, and as if waiting for more.
    “My brother,” whispered one of the girls; “mamma is thinking of poor Richard.”
    “Poor dear fellow!” continued Mrs. Musgrove; “he was grown so steady, and such an excellent correspondent, while he was under your care! Ah! it would have been a happy thing, if he had never left you. I assure you, Captain Wentworth, we are very sorry he ever left you.”
    There was a momentary expression in Captain Wentworth’s face at this speech, a certain glance of his bright eye, and curl of his handsome mouth, which convinced Anne, that instead of sharing in Mrs. Musgrove’s kind wishes, as to her son, he had probably been at some pains to get rid of him; but it was too transient an indulgence of self-amusement to be detected by any who understood him less than herself; in another moment he was perfectly collected and serious; and almost instantly afterwards coming up to the sofa, on which she and Mrs. Musgrove were sitting, took a place by the latter, and entered into conversation with her, in a low voice, about her son, doing it with so much sympathy and natural grace, as shewed the kindest consideration for all that was real and unabsurd in the parent’s feelings.
    They were actually on the same sofa, for Mrs. Musgrove had most readily made room for him; — they were divided only by Mrs. Musgrove. It was no insignificant barrier, indeed. Mrs. Musgrove was of a comfortable substantial size, infinitely more fitted by nature to express good cheer and good humour, than tenderness and sentiment; and while the agitations of Anne’s slender form, and pensive face, may be considered as very completely screened, Captain Wentworth should be allowed some credit for the self-command with which he attended to her large fat sighings over the destiny of a son, whom alive nobody had cared for.
    Personal size and mental sorrow have certainly no necessary proportions. A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep affliction, as the most graceful set of limbs in the world. But, fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions, which reason will patronize in vain, — which taste cannot tolerate,— which ridicule will seize.
    The admiral, after taking two or three refreshing turns about the room with his hands behind him, being called to order by his wife, now came up to Captain Wentworth, and without any observation of what he might be interrupting, thinking only of his own thoughts, began with,
    “If you had been a week later at Lisbon, last spring, Frederick, you would have been asked to give a passage to Lady Mary Grierson and her daughters.”
    “Should I? I am glad I was not a week later then.”
    The admiral abused him for his want of gallantry. He defended himself; though professing that he would never willingly admit any ladies on board a ship of his, excepting for a ball, or a visit, which a few hours might comprehend.
    “But, if I know myself,” said he, “this is from no want of gallantry towards them. It is rather from feeling how impossible it is, with all one’s efforts, and all one’s sacrifices, to make the accommodations on board, such as women ought to have. There can be no want of gallantry, admiral, in rating the claims of women to every personal comfort high — and this is what I do. I hate to hear of women on board, or to see them on board; and no ship, under my command, shall ever convey a family of ladies any where, if I can help it.”
    This brought his sister upon him.
    “Oh Frederick! — But I cannot believe it of you. — All idle refinement! — Women may be as comfortable on board, as in the best house in England. I believe I have lived as much on board as most women, and I know nothing superior to the accommodations of a man of war. I declare I have not a comfort or an indulgence about me, even at Kellynch-hall,” (with a kind bow to Anne) “beyond what I always had in most of the ships I have lived in; and they have been five altogether.”
    “Nothing to the purpose,” replied her brother. “You were living with your husband; and were the only woman on board.”
    “But you, yourself, brought Mrs. Harville, her sister, her cousin, and three children, round from Portsmouth to Plymouth. Where was this superfine, extraordinary sort of gallantry of yours then?”
    “All merged in my friendship, Sophia. I would assist any brother officer’s wife that I could, and I would bring any thing of Harville’s from the world’s end, if he wanted it. But do not imagine that I did not feel it an evil in itself.”
    “Depend upon it they were all perfectly comfortable.”
    “I might not like them the better for that, perhaps. Such a number of women and children have no right to be comfortable on board.”
    “My dear Frederick, you are talking quite idly. Pray, what would become of us poor sailors’ wives, who often want to be conveyed to one port or another, after our husbands, if everybody had your feelings?”
    “My feelings, you see, did not prevent my taking Mrs. Harville, and all her family, to Plymouth.”
    “But I hate to hear you talking so, like a fine gentleman, and as if women were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures. We none of us expect to be in smooth water all our days.”
    “Ah! my dear,” said the admiral, “when he had got a wife, he will sing a different tune. When he is married, if we have the good luck to live to another war, we shall see him do as you and I, and a great many others, have done. We shall have him very thankful to anybody that will bring him his wife.”
    “Ay, that we shall.”
    “Now I have done,” cried Captain Wentworth. — ”When once married people begin to attack me with, ‘Oh! you will think very differently, when you are married.’ I can only say, ‘No, I shall not;’ and then they say again, ‘Yes, you will,’ and there is an end of it.”
    He got up and moved away.
    “What a great traveller you must have been, ma’am!” said Mrs. Musgrove to Mrs. Croft.
    “Pretty well, ma’am, in the fifteen years of my marriage; though many women have done more. I have crossed the Atlantic four times, and have been once to the East Indies, and back again; and only once, besides being in different places about home — Cork, and Lisbon, and Gibraltar. But I never went beyond the Streights — and never was in the West Indies. We do not call Bermuda or Bahama, you know, the West Indies.”
    Mrs. Musgrove had not a word to say in dissent; she could not accuse herself of having ever called them anything in the whole course of her life.
    “And I do assure you, ma’am,” pursued Mrs. Croft, “that nothing can exceed the accommodations of a man of war; I speak, you know, of the higher rates. When you come to a frigate, of course, you are more confined — though any reasonable woman may be perfectly happy in one of them; and I can safely say, that the happiest part of my life has been spent on board a ship. While we were together, you know, there was nothing to be feared. Thank God! I have always been blessed with excellent health, and no climate disagrees with me. A little disordered always the first twenty-four hours of going to sea, but never knew what sickness was afterwards. The only time I ever really suffered in body or mind, the only time that I ever fancied myself unwell, or had any ideas of danger, was the winter that I passed by myself at Deal, when the Admiral (Captain Croft then) was in the North Seas. I lived in perpetual fright at that time, and had all manner of imaginary complaints from not knowing what to do with myself, or when I should hear from him next; but as long as we could be together, nothing ever ailed me, and I never met with the smallest inconvenience.”
    “Aye, to be sure. — Yes, indeed, oh yes, I am quite of your opinion, Mrs. Croft,” was Mrs. Musgrove’s hearty answer. “There is nothing so bad as a separation. I am quite of your opinion. I know what it is, for Mr. Musgrove always attends the assizes, and I am so glad when they are over, and he is safe back again.”
    The evening ended with dancing. On its being proposed, Anne offered her services, as usual, and though her eyes would sometimes fill with tears as she sat at the instrument, she was extremely glad to be employed, and desired nothing in return but to be unobserved.
    It was a merry, joyous party, and no one seemed in higher spirits than Captain Wentworth. She felt that he had every thing to elevate him, which general attention and deference, and especially the attention of all the young women could do. The Miss Hayters, the females of the family of cousins already mentioned, were apparently admitted to the honour of being in love with him; and as for Henrietta and Louisa, they both seemed so entirely occupied by him, that nothing but the continued appearance of the most perfect good-will between themselves, could have made it credible that they were not decided rivals. If he were a little spoilt by such universal, such eager admiration, who could wonder?
    These were some of the thoughts which occupied Anne, while her fingers were mechanically at work, proceeding for half an hour together, equally without error, and without consciousness. Once she felt that he was looking at herself — observing her altered features, perhaps, trying to trace in them the ruins of the face which had once charmed him; and once she knew that he must have spoken of her; — she was hardly aware of it, till she heard the answer; but then she was sure of his having asked his partner whether Miss Elliot never danced? The answer was, “Oh! no, never; she has quite given up dancing. She had rather play. She is never tired of playing.” Once, too, he spoke to her. She had left the instrument on the dancing being over, and he had sat down to try to make out an air which he wished to give the Miss Musgroves an idea of. Unintentionally she returned to that part of the room; he saw her, and, instantly rising, said, with studied politeness,
    “I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat;” and though she immediately drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced to sit down again.
    Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches. His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.


Chapter 9

aptain Wentworth was come to Kellynch as to a home, to stay as long as he liked, being as thoroughly the object of the Admiral’s fraternal kindness as of his wife’s. He had intended, on first arriving, to proceed very soon into Shropshire, and visit the brother settled in that county, but the attractions of Uppercross induced him to put this off. There was so much of friendliness, and of flattery, and of everything most bewitching in his reception there; the old were so hospitable, the young so agreeable, that he could not but resolve to remain where he was, and take all the charms and perfections of Edward’s wife upon credit a little longer.
    It was soon Uppercross with him almost every day. The Musgroves could hardly be more ready to invite than he to come, particularly in the morning, when he had no companion at home, for the Admiral and Mrs. Croft were generally out of doors together, interesting themselves in their new possessions, their grass, and their sheep, and dawdling about in a way not endurable to a third person, or driving out in a gig, lately added to their establishment.
    Hitherto there had been but one opinion of Captain Wentworth, among the Musgroves and their dependencies. It was unvarying, warm admiration everywhere. But this intimate footing was not more than established, when a certain Charles Hayter returned among them, to be a good deal disturbed by it, and to think Captain Wentworth very much in the way.
    Charles Hayter was the eldest of all the cousins, and a very amiable, pleasing young man, between whom and Henrietta there had been a considerable appearance of attachment previous to Captain Wentworth’s introduction. He was in orders; and having a curacy in the neighbourhood where residence was not required, lived at his father’s house, only two miles from Uppercross. A short absence from home had left his fair one unguarded by his attentions at this critical period, and when he came back he had the pain of finding very altered manners, and of seeing Captain Wentworth.
    Mrs. Musgrove and Mrs. Hayter were sisters. They had each had money, but their marriages had made a material difference in their degree of consequence. Mr. Hayter had some property of his own, but it was insignificant compared with Mr. Musgrove’s; and while the Musgroves were in the first class of society in the country, the young Hayters would, from their parents’ inferior, retired, and unpolished way of living, and their own defective education, have been hardly in any class at all, but for their connexion with Uppercross; this eldest son of course excepted, who had chosen to be a scholar and a gentleman, and who was very superior in cultivation and manners to all the rest.
    The two families had always been on excellent terms, there being no pride on one side, and no envy on the other, and only such a consciousness of superiority in the Miss Musgroves, as made them pleased to improve their cousins.— Charles’s attentions to Henrietta had been observed by her father and mother without any disapprobation. “It would not be a great match for her; but if Henrietta liked him, — and Henrietta did seem to like him.”
    Henrietta fully thought so herself, before Captain Wentworth came; but from that time Cousin Charles had been very much forgotten.
    Which of the two sisters was preferred by Captain Wentworth was as yet quite doubtful, as far as Anne’s observation reached. Henrietta was perhaps the prettiest, Louisa had the higher spirits; and she knew not now, whether the more gentle or the more lively character were most likely to attract him.
    Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove, either from seeing little, or from an entire confidence in the discretion of both their daughters, and of all the young men who came near them, seemed to leave everything to take its chance. There was not the smallest appearance of solicitude or remark about them, in the Mansion-house; but it was different at the Cottage: the young couple there were more disposed to speculate and wonder; and Captain Wentworth had not been above four or five times in the Miss Musgroves’ company, and Charles Hayter had but just reappeared, when Anne had to listen to the opinions of her brother and sister, as to which was the one liked best. Charles gave it for Louisa, Mary for Henrietta, but quite agreeing that to have him marry either could be extremely delightful.
    Charles “had never seen a pleasanter man in his life; and from what he had once heard Captain Wentworth himself say, was very sure that he had not made less than twenty thousand pounds by the war. Here was a fortune at once; besides which, there would be the chance of what might be done in any future war; and he was sure Captain Wentworth was as likely a man to distinguish himself as any officer in the navy. Oh! it would be a capital match for either of his sisters.”
    “Upon my word it would,” replied Mary. “Dear me! If he should rise to any very great honours! If he should ever be made a Baronet! ‘Lady Wentworth’ sounds very well. That would be a noble thing, indeed, for Henrietta! She would take place of me then, and Henrietta would not dislike that. Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth! It would be but a new creation, however, and I never think much of your new creations.”
    It suited Mary best to think Henrietta the one preferred, on the very account of Charles Hayter, whose pretensions she wished to see put an end to. She looked down very decidedly upon the Hayters, and thought it would be quite a misfortune to have the existing connection between the families renewed — very sad for herself and her children.
    “You know,” said she, “I cannot think him at all a fit match for Henrietta; and considering the alliances which the Musgroves have made, she has no right to throw herself away. I do not think any young woman has a right to make a choice that may be disagreeable and inconvenient to the principal part of her family, and be giving bad connections to those who have not been used to them. And, pray, who is Charles Hayter? Nothing but a country curate. A most improper match for Miss Musgrove of Uppercross.”
    Her husband, however, would not agree with her here; for besides having a regard for his cousin, Charles Hayter was an eldest son, and he saw things as an eldest son himself.“
    Now you are taking nonsense, Mary,” was therefore his answer. “It would not be a great match for Henrietta, but Charles has a very fair chance, through the Spicers, of getting something from the Bishop in the course of a year or two; and you will please to remember, that he is the eldest son; whenever my uncle dies, he steps into very pretty property. The estate at Winthrop is not less than two hundred and fifty acres, besides the farm near Taunton, which is some of the best land in the country. I grant you, that any of them but Charles would be a very shocking match for Henrietta, and indeed it could not be; he is the only one that could be possible; but he is a very good-natured, good sort of a fellow; and whenever Winthrop comes into his hands, he will make a different sort of place of it, and live in a very different sort of way; and with that property, he will never be a contemptible man. Good, freehold property. No, no; Henrietta might do worse than marry Charles Hayter; and if she has him, and Louisa can get Captain Wentworth, I shall be very well satisfied.”
    “Charles may say what he pleases,” cried Mary to Anne, as soon as he was out of the room, “but it would be shocking to have Henrietta marry Charles Hayter; a very bad thing for her, and still worse for me; and therefore it is very much to be wished that Captain Wentworth may soon put him quite out of her head, and I have very little doubt that he has. She took hardly any notice of Charles Hayter yesterday. I wish you had been there to see her behaviour. And as to Captain Wentworth’s liking Louisa as well as Henrietta, it is nonsense to say so; for he certainly does like Henrietta a great deal the best. But Charles is so positive! I wish you had been with us yesterday, for then you might have decided between us; and I am sure you would have thought as I did, unless you had been determined to give it against me.”
    A dinner at Mr. Musgrove’s had been the occasion, when all these things should have been seen by Anne; but she had staid at home, under the mixed plea of a head-ache of her own, and some return of indisposition in little Charles. She had thought only of avoiding Captain Wentworth; but an escape from being appealed to as umpire, was now added to the advantages of a quiet evening.
    As to Captain Wentworth’s views, she deemed it of more consequence that he should know his own mind, early enough not to be endangering the happiness of either sister, or impeaching his own honour, than that he should prefer Henrietta to Louisa, or Louisa to Henrietta. Either of them would, in all probability, make him an affectionate, goodhumoured wife. With regard to Charles Hayter, she had delicacy which must be pained by any lightness of conduct in a well-meaning young woman, and a heart to sympathize in any of the sufferings it occasioned; but if Henrietta found herself mistaken in the nature of her feelings, the alternation could not be understood too soon.
    Charles Hayter had met with much to disquiet and mortify him in his cousin’s behaviour. She had too old a regard for him to be so wholly estranged, as might in two meetings extinguish every past hope, and leave him nothing to do but to keep away from Uppercross; but there was such a change as became very alarming, when such a man as Captain Wentworth was to be regarded as the probable cause. He had been absent only two Sundays; and when they parted, had left her interested even to the height ofhis wishes, in his prospect of soon quitting his present curacy, and obtaining that of Uppercross instead. It had then seemed the object nearest her heart, that Dr. Shirley, the rector, who for more than forty years had been zealously discharging all the duties of his office, but was now growing too infirm for many of them, should be quite fixed on engaging a curate; should make his curacy quite as good as he could afford, and should give Charles Hayter the promise of it. The advantage of his having to come only to Uppercross, instead of going six miles another way; of his having, in every respect, a better curacy; of his belonging to their dear Dr. Shirley, and of dear, good Dr. Shirley’s being relieved from the duty which he could no longer get through without most injurious fatigue, had been a great deal, even to Louisa, but had been almost everything to Henrietta. When he came back, alas! the zeal of the business was gone by. Louisa could not listen at all to his account of a conversation which he had just held with Dr. Shirley: she was 7at window, looking out for Captain Wentworth; and even Henrietta had at best only a divided attention to give, and seemed to have forgotten all the former doubt and solicitude of the negotiation.
    “Well, I am very glad indeed, but I always thought you would have it; I always thought you sure. It did not appear to me that — in short, you know, Dr. Shirley must have a curate, and you had secured his promise. Is he coming, Louisa?”
    One morning, very soon after the dinner at the Musgroves, at which Anne had not been present, Captain Wentworth walked into the drawing-room at the Cottage, where were only herself and the little invalid Charles, who was lying on the sofa.
    The surprise of finding himself almost alone with Anne Elliot, deprive his manners of their usual composure: he started, and could only say, “I thought the Miss Musgroves had been here — Mrs. Musgrove told me I should find them here,” before he walked to the window to recollect himself, and feel how he ought to behave.
    “They are up stairs with my sister — they will be down in a few moments, I dare say,”— had been Anne’s reply, in all the confusion that was natural; and if the child had not called her to come and do something for him, she would have been out of the room the next moment, and released Captain Wentworth as well as herself.
    He continued at the window; and after calmly and politely saying, “I hope the little boy is better,” was silent.
    She was obliged to kneel down by the sofa, and remain there to satisfy her patient; and thus they continued a few minutes, when, to her very great satisfaction, she heard some other person crossing the little vestibule. She hoped, on turning her head, to see the master of the house; but it proved to be one much less calculated for making matters easy — Charles Hayter, probably not at all better pleased by the sight of Captain Wentworth, than Captain Wentworth had been by the sight of Anne.
    She only attempted to say, “How do you do? Will you not sit down? The others will be here presently.”
    Captain Wentworth, however, came from his window, apparently not ill-disposed for conversation; but Charles Hayter soon put an end to his attempts, by seating himself near the table, and taking up the newspaper; and Captain Wentworth returned to his window.
    Another minute brought another addition. The younger boy, a remarkable stout, forward child, of two years old, having got the door opened for him by some one without, made his determined appearance among them, and went straight to the sofa to see what was going on, and put in his claim to anything good that might be giving away.
    There being nothing to eat, he could only have some play; and as his aunt would not let him tease his sick brother, he began to fasten himself upon her, as she knelt, in such a way that, busy as she was about Charles, she could not shake him off. She spoke to him — ordered, intreated, and insisted in vain. Once she did contrive to push him away, but the boy had the greater pleasure in getting upon her back again directly.
    “Walter,” said she, “get down this moment. You are extremely troublesome. I am very angry with you.”
    “Walter,” cried Charles Hayter, “why do you not do as you are bid? Do not you hear your aunt speak? Come to me, Walter, come to cousin Charles.”
    But not a bit did Walter stir.
    In another moment, however, she found herself in the state of being released from him; some one was taking him from her, though he had bent down her head so much, that his little sturdy hands were unfastened from around her neck, and he was resolutely borne away, before she knew that Captain Wentworth had done it.
    Her sensations on the discovery made her perfectly speechless. She could not even thank him. She could only hang over little Charles, with most disordered feelings. His kindness in stepping forward to her relief — the manner — the silence in which it had passed — the little particulars of the circumstance — with the conviction soon forced on her by the noise he was studiously making with the child, that he meant to avoid hearing her thanks, and rather sought to testify that her conversation was the last of his wants, produced such a confusion of varying, but very painful agitation, as she could not recover from, till enabled by the entrance of Mary and the Miss Musgroves to make over her little patient to their cares, and leave the room. She could not stay. It might have been an opportunity of watching the loves and jealousies of the four; they were now all together, but she could stay for none of it.
    It was evident that Charles Hayter was not well inclined towards Captain Wentworth. She had a strong impression of his having said, in a vext tone of voice, after Captain Wentworth’s interference, “You ought to have minded me, Walter; I told you not to teaze your aunt;” and could comprehend his regretting that Captain Wentworth should do what he ought to have done himself. But neither Charles Hayter’s feelings, nor any body’s feelings, could interest her, till she had a little better arranged her own. She was ashamed of herself, quite ashamed of being so nervous, so overcome by such a trifle; but so it was; and it required a long application of solitude and reflection to recover her.

 
Продолжение

Preface to Persuasion by Henry Austen

Роман "Доводы рассудка" (перевод с англ.)

О жизни и творчестве Джейн Остин

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