“The name of Anne Elliot,” said he, “has long had an interesting sound to me.  Very long has it possessed a charm over my fancy; and, if I dared, I would breathe my wishes that the name might never change.”

Such, she believed, were his words; but scarcely had she received their sound, than her attention was caught by other sounds immediately behind her, which rendered every thing else trivial.  Her father and Lady Dalrymple were speaking.

“A well-looking man,” said Sir Walter, “a very well-looking man.”

“A very fine young man indeed!” said Lady Dalrymple.  “More air than one often sees in Bath.  Irish, I dare say.”

“No, I just know his name.  A bowing acquaintance.  Wentworth; Captain Wentworth of the navy.  His sister married my tenant in Somersetshire, the Croft, who rents Kellynch.”

Before Sir Walter had reached this point, Anne’s eyes had caught the right direction, and distinguished Captain Wentworth standing among a cluster of men at a little distance.  As her eyes fell on him, his seemed to be withdrawn from her.  It had that appearance.  It seemed as if she had been one moment too late; and as long as she dared observe, he did not look again:  but the performance was recommencing, and she was forced to seem to restore her attention to the orchestra and look straight forward.

When she could give another glance, he had moved away.  He could not have come nearer to her if he would; she was so surrounded and shut in:  but she would rather have caught his eye.

Mr Elliot’s speech, too, distressed her.  She had no longer any inclination to talk to him.  She wished him not so near her.

The first act was over.  Now she hoped for some beneficial change; and, after a period of nothing-saying amongst the party, some of them did decide on going in quest of tea.  Anne was one of the few who did not choose to move.  She remained in her seat, and so did Lady Russell; but she had the pleasure of getting rid of Mr Elliot; and she did not mean, whatever she might feel on Lady Russell’s account, to shrink from conversation with Captain Wentworth, if he gave her the opportunity.  She was persuaded by Lady Russell’s countenance that she had seen him.

He did not come however.  Anne sometimes fancied she discerned him at a distance, but he never came.  The anxious interval wore away unproductively.  The others returned, the room filled again, benches were reclaimed and repossessed, and another hour of pleasure or of penance was to be sat out, another hour of music was to give delight or the gapes, as real or affected taste for it prevailed.  To Anne, it chiefly wore the prospect of an hour of agitation.  She could not quit that room in peace without seeing Captain Wentworth once more, without the interchange of one friendly look.