“Her ladyship’s carriage was a barouche, and did not hold more than four with any comfort. Miss Carteret was with her mother; consequently it was not reasonable to expect accommodation for all the three Camden Place ladies. There could be no doubt as to Miss Elliot, but it occupied a little time to settle the point of civility between the other two. The rain was a mere trifle, and Anne was most sincere in preferring a walk with Mr. Elliot. But the rain was also a mere trifle to Mrs. Clay; she would hardly allow it even to drop at all, and her boots were so thick—much thicker than Miss Anne’s; in short, her civility rendered her quite as anxious to be left to walk with Mr. Elliot as Anne could be, and it was discussed between them with a generosity so polite and so determined, that the others were obliged to settle it for them, Miss Elliot maintaining that Mrs. Clay had a little cold already, and Mr. Elliot deciding on appeal that his cousin Anne’s boots were rather the thickest.
“It was fixed, accordingly, that Mrs. Clay should be of the party in the carriage; and they had just reached this point when Anne, as she sat near the window, descried most decidedly and distinctly Captain Wentworth walking down the street.
“Her start was perceptible only to herself; but she instantly felt that she was the greatest simpleton in the world, the most unaccountable and absurd. For a few minutes she saw nothing before her; it was all confusion. She was lost, and when she had scolded back her senses, she found the others still waiting, and Mr. Elliot (always obliging) just setting off for Union Street on a commission of Mrs. Clay’s.
“She now felt a great inclination to go to the outer door. Captain Wentworth must be out of sight. She would see if it rained. She was sent back, however, in a moment by the entrance of Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of gentlemen and ladies, evidently his acquaintance, and whom he must have joined a little below Milsom Street. He was more obviously struck and confused by the sight of her than she had ever observed before. He looked quite red. For the first time since their renewed acquaintance she felt she was betraying the least sensibility of the two. She had the advantage of him in the preparation of the last few moments. All the overpowering, blinding, bewildering, first effects of strong surprise were over with her; still, however, she had enough to feel. It was agitation, pain, pleasure—a something between delight and misery.
“He spoke to her, and then turned away. The character of his manner was embarrassment. She could not have called it either cold, or friendly, or anything so certainly as embarrassed.
“After a short interval, however, he came towards her, and spoke again. Mutual inquiries on common subjects passed, neither of them much the wiser for what they heard, and Anne continuing fully sensible of his being less at ease than formerly. They had, by dint of being so much together, got to speak to each other with a considerable portion of apparent indifference and calmness, but he could not do it now. Time had changed him, or Louisa had changed him. There was consciousness of some sort or other. He looked very well, not as if he had been suffering either in health or spirits; and he talked of Uppercross, of the Musgroves—nay, even of Louisa—and had even a momentary look of his own arch significance as he named her; but yet it was Captain Wentworth, not comfortable, not easy, not able to feign that he was.
“It did not surprise but it grieved Anne to observe that Elizabeth would not know him. She saw that he saw Elizabeth; that Elizabeth saw him; that there was complete internal recognition on each side. She was convinced that he was ready to be acknowledged as an acquaintance, expecting it, and she had the pain of seeing her sister turn away with unalterable coldness.
“Lady Dalrymple’s carriage, for which Miss Elliot was growing very impatient, now drew up; the servant came in to announce it. It was beginning to rain again, and altogether there was a delay, and a bustle, and a talking which must make all the little crowd in the shop understand that Lady Dalrymple was calling to convey Miss Elliot. At last Miss Elliot and her friend, unattended but by the servant (for there was no cousin returned), were walking off, and Captain Wentworth, watching them, turned again to Anne, and by manner, rather than words, was offering his services to her.
“‘I am much obliged to you,’ was her answer, ‘but I am not going with them. The carriage would not accommodate so many. I walk: I prefer walking.’
“‘But it rains.’