Music Welcome to snoozecast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us on snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a decided taste for reading. Tonight, we shall read the next part to persuasion, the last novel fully completed by Jane Austen and published in 1817. The story concerns Anne Elliott, an English woman whose family moves in order to lower their expenses by renting their home to an admiral and his wife. In the last episode, the off-season tourists to the beach town of Lyme are surprised to learn that the mysterious gentlemen they

passed was not only a cousin to Anne and Mary Aliett, but was the heir to their family fortune. Later, a tragic accident occurs suddenly after Luisa playfully falls from a ledge, expecting to be caught by Captain Wentworth.

The situation is sudden, and each individual in the group shows their ability or inability to handle the emergency with grace. And steadiness and calm particularly shines. Weza is alive but unresponsive and it is decided that she

will stay at the Harvills in their care while she recovers. Let's get cozy.

Close your eyes.

Relax. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. Charles Henrietta and Captain Wentworth were the three in consultation, and for a little while it was only an interchange of perplexity and terror. At first, they were capable of nothing more to the purpose than disjointed exclamations. But after a while, Captain Wentworth, exerting himself, said, We must be decided, and without the loss of another minute, every minute is valuable. Someone must resolve on being offered up across instantly. Must grove, either you or I must go. Charles agreed, but declared his resolution of not going away. He would be as little in Combrance as possible to Captain and Mrs. Harville, but as to leaving his sister in such a state, he neither ought nor would. So far it was decided, and Henrietta at first declared the same. She then was forced to acknowledge that she could do no good, yet was still unwilling to be away, till touched by the thought of her father and mother, she gave it up. She consented. She was anxious to be at home. The plan had reached this point when Anne, coming quietly down from Louise's room, could not but hear what followed, for the parlor door was open. Then it is settled Musgrove, cried Captain Wentworth, that you stay, and that I take care of your sister home.

But as to the rest, as to the others,

if one stays to assist Mrs. Harville,

I think it need be only one.

Mrs. Charles must grove will, of course,

wish to get back to her children.

But if Anne will stay, no one so proper, so capable as Anne. She paused a moment to recover from the emotion of hearing herself so spoken of. The other two warmly agreed with what he said, and she then appeared. You will stay, I am sure, he will stay and nurse her, cried he, turning to her and speaking with a glow, and yet a gentleness which seemed almost restoring the past. She colored deeply, and he recollected himself and moved away. She expressed herself most willing, ready, happy to remain. It was what she had been thinking of, and wished to be allowed to do. A bed on the floor in Louise's room would be sufficient for her, if. Harville would but think so. One thing more and all seemed arranged, though it was rather desirable that Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove should be previously alarmed by some share of delay, yet the time required by the upper cross horses to take them back would be a dreadful extension of suspense, and Captain Wentworth proposed, and Charles Musgrove agreed, that it would be much better for him to take a chase from the inn and leave Mr. Musgrove's carriage and horses to be sent home the next morning early, when there would be the farther advantage of sending an account of Luiz's night. Captain Wentworth now hurried off to get everything ready on his part and to be soon followed by the two ladies. When the plan was made known to Mary, however, there was an end of all peace in it. She was so wretched and so vehement, complained so much of injustice in being expected to go away instead of Anne. Anne, who was nothing to Louisa, while she was her sister, and had the best right to stay in Henrietta's stead. Why was not she to be as useful as Anne? And to go home without Charles, too, without her husband? No, it was too unkind. And in short, she said more than her husband could long withstand. And as none of the others could oppose when he gave way, there was no help for it. The change of Mary for Anne was inevitable. Anne had never submitted more reluctantly to the jealous and ill-judging claims of Mary, but so it must be, and they set off for the town, Charles taking care of his sister, and Captain Benwick attending to her. She gave a moment's recollection as they hurried along to the little circumstances which the same spots had witnessed earlier in the morning. There she had listened to Henrietta's schemes for doctors' churlies Shirley leaving up across, farther on. She had first seen Mr. Elliott. A moment seemed all that could now be given to anyone but Luisa, or those who were wrapped up in her welfare. Captain Benwick was most considerably attentive to her, and, united as they all seemed by the distress of the day, she felt an increasing degree of good will towards him, and a pleasure even in thinking that it might perhaps be the occasion of continuing their acquaintance.

Captain Wentworth was on the watch for them, and a sheaise and four in waiting, station for their convenience in the lowest part of the street. But his evident surprise and vexation at the substitution of one sister for the other, to change in his countenance, the astonishment,

the expressions begun and suppressed, with which Charles was listened to, made but a mortifying reception of Anne, or must at least convince her that she was valued only as she could be useful to Luisa. She endeavored to be composed and to be just, without emulating the feelings of an Emma towards her Henry. She would have attended on Luisa with a zeal above the common claims of regard for his sake, and she hoped he would not long be so unjust as to suppose she would shrink unnecessarily from the office of a friend. In the meanwhile, she was in the carriage. He had handed them both in and placed himself between them, and in this manner, under these circumstances, full of astonishment and emotion to Anne, she quit his line. How the long stage would pass, how it was to affect their manners, what was to be their sort of intercourse, she could not foresee. It was all quite natural, however, he was devoted to Henrietta, always turning towards her, and when he spoke at all, always with the view of supporting her hopes and raising her spirits. In general, his voice and manner were studiously calm. To spare Henrietta from agitation seemed the governing principle. Once only, when she had been grieving over the last ill-judged ill-fated walk to the

cob, bitterly lamenting that it ever had been thought of, he burst forth as if wholly overcome. Don't talk of it. Don't talk of it. He cried. Oh God, that I had not given way to her at

that fatal moment. Had I done as I ought, but so eager and so resolute. Dear, sweet Louisa. And wondered whether it ever occurred to him now to question the justice of his own previous opinion as to the universal felicity and advantage of firmness of character. And whether it might not strike him that, like all other qualities of the mind, it should have its proportions and limits. She thought it could scarcely escape him to feel that a persuadable temper might sometimes be as much in favor of happiness as a very resolute character. They got on fast and was astonished to recognize the same hills and the same objects so soon. Their actual speed, heightened by some dread of the conclusion, made the road appear but half as long as on the day before. It was growing quite dusk, however, before they were in the neighborhood of Upper Cross, And there had been total silence among them for some time. Henrietta leaning back in the corner with a shawl over her face, giving the hope of her having cried herself to sleep, when, as they were going up their last hill, and found herself all at once addressed by Captain Wentworth, in a low, cautious voice, he said, I have been considering what we best do. She must not appear at first. She could not stand it. I have been thinking whether you had not better remain in the carriage with her while I go in and break it to Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove. Do you think this is a good plan? She did. He was satisfied and said no more. But the remembrance of the appeal remained a pleasure to her as a proof of friendship and of deference for her judgment, a great pleasure. And when it became a sort of parting proof, its value did not listen. When the distressing communication at Upper Cross was over, and he had seen the Father and Mother quite as composed as could be hoped, and the daughter all the better for being with them, he announced his intention of returning in the same carriage to lime. And when the horses were baited, he was off. Chapter 13 The remainder of Anne's time at Upper Cross, comprehending only two days, was spent entirely at the mansion house, and she had the satisfaction of knowing herself extremely useful there, both as an immediate companion, and as assisting in all those arrangements for the future, which in Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove's distressed state of spirits would have been difficult. They had an early account from Lyme the next morning. Louisa was much the same. No symptoms worse than before had appeared. Charles came a few hours afterwards to bring a later and more particular account. He was tolerably cheerful. A speedy cure must not be hoped, but everything was going on as well as the nature of the case admitted. In speaking of the Harvils, he seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of their kindness, especially of Mrs. Harvils' exertions as a nurse. She really left nothing for Mary to do. He and Mary had been persuaded to go early to their inn last night. Mary had been hysterical again this morning. When he came away, she was going to walk out with Captain Benweck, which he hoped would do her good. He almost wished she had been prevailed on to come home the day before, but the truth was that Mrs. Harville left nothing for anybody to do. Charles was to return to Lyme the same afternoon, and his father had at first half a mind to go

with him, but the ladies could not consent. It would be going only to multiply trouble to the others and increase his own distress. And a much better scheme followed and was acted upon. A she's was sent for from Crucarn, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery made of the family, one who, having brought up all the children and seen the very last, the lingering and long-peted master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blanes and bruises she could get near her. And who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Luisa. Big wishes of getting Sarah Thither had occurred before to Mrs. Musgrove and Henrietta, but without Anne, it would hardly have been resolved on and found practicable so soon. They were indebted the next day to Charles Hater for all the minute knowledge of Luisa, which it was so essential to obtain every 24 hours. He made it his business to go to Lyme, and his account was still encouraging. The intervals of sense and consciousness were believed to be stronger. Every report agreed and Captain Wentworth's appearing fixed in Lyme. And was to leave them on the morrow, an event which they all dreaded. What should they do without her? They were wretched comforters for one another. And so much was said in this way, that Anne thought she could not do better than impart among them the general inclination to which she was privy and persuaded them all to go to lime at once. She had little difficulty, it was soon determined that they would go, go tomorrow, fix themselves at the end or get into lodgings as it suited, and they remain until dear Louisa could be moved. They must be taking off some trouble with the good people she was with. They might at least relieve Mrs. Harville from the care of her own children, and in short, they were so happy in the decision that Anne was delighted with what she had done, and and felt that she could not spend her last morning at Upper Cross better than in assisting their preparations and sending them off at an early hour, though her being left to the solitary range of the house was the consequence. She was the last, accepting the little boys at the cottage. She was the very last, the only remaining one of all that had filled and animated both houses, of all that had given up across its cheerful character. A few days had made a change indeed. If Luisa recovered, it would all be well again. More than former happiness would be restored. There could not be a doubt to her mind there was none of what would follow her recovery. A few months hence, and the room now so deserted, occupied but by her silent, pensive self, might be filled again with all that was happy and gay, all that was glowing and bright in prosperous love, all that was most unlike and elegant. An hour's complete leisure for such reflections as these on a dark November day. A small, thick rain almost blotting out the very few objects ever to be discerned from the windows was enough to make the sound of Lady Russell's carriage exceedingly welcome. And yet, though desirous to be gone, she could not quit the mansion house, or look in a dew to the cottage, with its black, dripping, and comfortless veranda. Or even notice, through the misty glasses, the last humble tenements of the village without a saddened heart. Scenes had passed in uppercross, which made it precious.

It stood the record of many sensations of pain, once severe, but now softened, and of some instances of relenting feeling, some breathings of friendship and reconciliation, What could never be looked for for again and which could never cease to be dear. She left it all behind her, all but the recollection that such things had been. Anne had never entered Kellynch since her quitting Lady Russell's house in September. It had not been necessary. In the few occasions of its being possible for her to go to the hall, she had contrived to evade an escape from. Her first return was to resume her place in the modern and elegant apartments of the lodge and to gladden the eyes of its mistress. There was some anxiety mixed with Lady Russell's joy in meeting her. She knew who had been frequenting up across, but happily either Anne was improved in plumpness and looks, or Lady Russell fancied her so, and Anne in receiving her compliments on the occasion, had the amusement of connecting them with the silent admiration of her cousin, and of hoping that she was to be blessed with a second spring of youth and beauty. When they came to converse, she was soon sensible of some mental change, the subjects of which her heart had been full on leaving Kellynch, in which she had felt slated, and been compelled to smother among the muskroves, were now become but of secondary interest. She had lately lost sight even of her father and sister and bath. Their concerns had been sunk under those of uppercross. And when Lady Russell reverted to their former hopes and fears, and spoke her satisfaction in the house in Camden Place, which had been taken, and her regret that Mrs. Clay should still be with them, and would have been ashamed to have it known how much more she was thinking of lime and Luisa Musgrove and all her acquaintance there. How much more interesting to her was the home and the friendship of the Harvills and Captain Benwick than her own father's house and Camden Place, or her own sister's intimacy with Mrs. Clay.

She was actually forced to exert herself to meet Lady Russell with anything like the appearance

of equal solicitude on topics which had by nature the first claim on her.

There was a little awkwardness at first in their discourse on another subject. They must speak of the accident at Lyme. Lady Russell had not been arrived five minutes the day before when a full account of the whole had burst on her. But still, it must be talked of. She must make inquiries. She must regret the imprudence, lament the result, and Captain Wentworth's name must be mentioned by both. And was conscious of not doing it so well as Lady Russell. We could not speak the name and look straightforward to Lady Russell's eye till she had adopted the expedient of telling her briefly what she thought of the attachment between him and Luisa. When this was told, his name distressed her no longer. Lady Russell had only to listen compositely and wished them happy, but internally her heart reveled in angry pleasure in police contempt, that the man who at 23 had seemed to understand somewhat of the value of an an Elliott should, eight years afterwards, be charmed by Luisa Musgrove. The first three or four days passed most quietly, with no circumstance to mark them accepting the receipt of a node or two from Lme, which found their way to Anne, she could not tell how, and brought a rather improving account of Luisa. At the end of that period, Lady Russell's politeness could repose no longer, and the feinter, self-threatening of the past, became in a decided tone. I must call on Mrs. Croft. I really must call upon her soon. And have you the courage to go with me and pay a visit in that house? It will be some trial to us both. And did not shrink from it. On the contrary, she truly felt, as she said, in observing, I think you are very likely to suffer the most of the two. Your feelings are less reconciled to the change than mine. By remaining in the neighborhood, I am become inert to it. She could have said more on the subject, for she had, in fact, so high an opinion of the crops, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenets, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners. Convictions must unquestionably have their own pain, and severe was its kind, but they precluded that pain which Lady Russell would suffer in entering the house again and returning through the well-known apartments. such moments and had no power of saying to herself,

these rooms ought to belong only to us. Oh, how fallen in their destination, how unworthily occupied,

...