She found, on reaching home, that she had, as she intended, escaped seeing Mr Elliot; that he had called and paid them a long morning visit; but hardly had she congratulated herself, and felt safe, when she heard that he was coming again in the evening.

“I had not the smallest intention of asking him,” said Elizabeth, with affected carelessness, “but he gave so many hints; so Mrs Clay says, at least.”

“Indeed, I do say it.  I never saw anybody in my life spell harder for an invitation.  Poor man!  I was really in pain for him; for your hard-hearted sister, Miss Anne, seems bent on cruelty.”

“Oh!” cried Elizabeth, “I have been rather too much used to the game to be soon overcome by a gentleman’s hints.  However, when I found how excessively he was regretting that he should miss my father this morning, I gave way immediately, for I would never really omit an opportunity of bring him and Sir Walter together.  They appear to so much advantage in company with each other.  Each behaving so pleasantly.  Mr Elliot looking up with so much respect.”

“Quite delightful!” cried Mrs Clay, not daring, however, to turn her eyes towards Anne.  “Exactly like father and son!  Dear Miss Elliot, may I not say father and son?”

“Oh!  I lay no embargo on any body’s words.  If you will have such ideas!  But, upon my word, I am scarcely sensible of his attentions being beyond those of other men.”

“My dear Miss Elliot!” exclaimed Mrs Clay, lifting her hands and eyes, and sinking all the rest of her astonishment in a convenient silence.

“Well, my dear Penelope, you need not be so alarmed about him.  I did invite him, you know.  I sent him away with smiles.  When I found he was really going to his friends at Thornberry Park for the whole day to-morrow, I had compassion on him.”

Anne admired the good acting of the friend, in being able to shew such pleasure as she did, in the expectation and in the actual arrival of the very person whose presence must really be interfering with her prime object.  It was impossible but that Mrs Clay must hate the sight of Mr Elliot; and yet she could assume a most obliging, placid look, and appear quite satisfied with the curtailed license of devoting herself only half as much to Sir Walter as she would have done otherwise.

To Anne herself it was most distressing to see Mr Elliot enter the room; and quite painful to have him approach and speak to her.  She had been used before to feel that he could not be always quite sincere, but now she saw insincerity in everything.  His attentive deference to her father, contrasted with his former language, was odious; and when she thought of his cruel conduct towards Mrs Smith, she could hardly bear the sight of his present smiles and mildness, or the sound of his artificial good sentiments.

She meant to avoid any such alteration of manners as might provoke a remonstrance on his side.  It was a great object to her to escape all enquiry or eclat; but it was her intention to be as decidedly cool to him as might be compatible with their relationship; and to retrace, as quietly as she could, the few steps of unnecessary intimacy she had been gradually led along.  She was accordingly more guarded, and more cool, than she had been the night before.