“You have not been long enough in Bath,” said he, “to enjoy the evening parties of the place.”

“Oh! no.  The usual character of them has nothing for me.  I am no card-player.”

“You were not formerly, I know.  You did not use to like cards; but time makes many changes.”

“I am not yet so much changed,” cried Anne, and stopped, fearing she hardly knew what misconstruction.  After waiting a few moments he said, and as if it were the result of immediate feeling, “It is a period, indeed!  Eight years and a half is a period.”

Whether he would have proceeded farther was left to Anne’s imagination to ponder over in a calmer hour; for while still hearing the sounds he had uttered, she was startled to other subjects by Henrietta, eager to make use of the present leisure for getting out, and calling on her companions to lose no time, lest somebody else should come in.

They were obliged to move.  Anne talked of being perfectly ready, and tried to look it; but she felt that could Henrietta have known the regret and reluctance of her heart in quitting that chair, in preparing to quit the room, she would have found, in all her own sensations for her cousin, in the very security of his affection, wherewith to pity her.

Their preparations, however, were stopped short.  Alarming sounds were heard; other visitors approached, and the door was thrown open for Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, whose entrance seemed to give a general chill.  Anne felt an instant oppression, and wherever she looked saw symptoms of the same.  The comfort, the freedom, the gaiety of the room was over, hushed into cold composure, determined silence, or insipid talk, to meet the heartless elegance of her father and sister.  How mortifying to feel that it was so!

Her jealous eye was satisfied in one particular.  Captain Wentworth was acknowledged again by each, by Elizabeth more graciously than before.  She even addressed him once, and looked at him more than once.  Elizabeth was, in fact, revolving a great measure.  The sequel explained it.  After the waste of a few minutes in saying the proper nothings, she began to give the invitation which was to comprise all the remaining dues of the Musgroves.  “To-morrow evening, to meet a few friends:  no formal party.”  It was all said very gracefully, and the cards with which she had provided herself, the “Miss Elliot at home,” were laid on the table, with a courteous, comprehensive smile to all, and one smile and one card more decidedly for Captain Wentworth.  The truth was, that Elizabeth had been long enough in Bath to understand the importance of a man of such an air and appearance as his.  The past was nothing.  The present was that Captain Wentworth would move about well in her drawing-room.  The card was pointedly given, and Sir Walter and Elizabeth arose and disappeared.