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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 altogether; 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 anybody'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.



Chapter 10


Other opportunities of making her observations could not fail to occur.
Anne had soon been in company with all the four together often enough
to have an opinion, though too wise to acknowledge as much at home,
where she knew it would have satisfied neither husband nor wife;
for while she considered Louisa to be rather the favourite,
she could not but think, as far as she might dare to judge from memory
and experience, that Captain Wentworth was not in love with either.
They were more in love with him; yet there it was not love.
It was a little fever of admiration; but it might, probably must,
end in love with some. Charles Hayter seemed aware of being slighted,

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