“Mr Elliot is an exceedingly agreeable man, and in many respects I think highly of him,” said Anne; “but we should not suit.”

Lady Russell let this pass, and only said in rejoinder, “I own that to be able to regard you as the future mistress of Kellynch, the future Lady Elliot, to look forward and see you occupying your dear mother’s place, succeeding to all her rights, and all her popularity, as well as to all her virtues, would be the highest possible gratification to me.  You are your mother’s self in countenance and disposition; and if I might be allowed to fancy you such as she was, in situation and name, and home, presiding and blessing in the same spot, and only superior to her in being more highly valued!  My dearest Anne, it would give me more delight than is often felt at my time of life!”

Anne was obliged to turn away, to rise, to walk to a distant table, and, leaning there in pretended employment, try to subdue the feelings this picture excited.  For a few moments her imagination and her heart were bewitched.  The idea of becoming what her mother had been; of having the precious name of “Lady Elliot” first revived in herself; of being restored to Kellynch, calling it her home again, her home for ever, was a charm which she could not immediately resist.  Lady Russell said not another word, willing to leave the matter to its own operation; and believing that, could Mr Elliot at that moment with propriety have spoken for himself!—­she believed, in short, what Anne did not believe.  The same image of Mr Elliot speaking for himself brought Anne to composure again.  The charm of Kellynch and of “Lady Elliot” all faded away.  She never could accept him.  And it was not only that her feelings were still adverse to any man save one; her judgement, on a serious consideration of the possibilities of such a case was against Mr Elliot.

Though they had now been acquainted a month, she could not be satisfied that she really knew his character.  That he was a sensible man, an agreeable man, that he talked well, professed good opinions, seemed to judge properly and as a man of principle, this was all clear enough.  He certainly knew what was right, nor could she fix on any one article of moral duty evidently transgressed; but yet she would have been afraid to answer for his conduct.  She distrusted the past, if not the present.  The names which occasionally dropt of former associates, the allusions to former practices and pursuits, suggested suspicions not favourable of what he had been.  She saw that there had been bad habits; that Sunday travelling had been a common thing; that there had been a period of his life (and probably not a short one) when he had been, at least, careless in all serious matters; and, though he might now think very differently, who could answer for the true sentiments of a clever, cautious man, grown old enough to appreciate a fair character?  How could it ever be ascertained that his mind was truly cleansed?