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she was at a 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,
deprived 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, entreated, and insisted in vain.
Once she did contrive to push him away, but the boy had

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