Music Welcome to Snoozecast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a shapeless old cockleshell. Tonight we shall read the next part to persuasion, the last novel fully completed by Jane Austin 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 Anne is stunned to learn of Luisa Musgrove's sudden engagement to Captain Benwick. The pairing seems unlikely. Weasah being lively and high-spirited, Benwick reserved and mournful, but Anne quickly attributes their attachment to circumstance, close proximity and shared full neurobility. Reflecting on it, Anne concludes their union makes sense, and could bring mutual happiness. Anne also feels an unspoken joy at the idea that Captain Wentworth is now free, though she barely dares to examine those feelings. Meanwhile, Sir Walter and Elizabeth are indifferent to the news, concerned only with social status, and reluctant to associate with the Crofts. And in contrast, finds quiet joy in observing Admiral and Mrs. Croft's warm, equal companionship. A chance meeting with Admiral and a print shop reveals his usual charm and humor, further endearing him to Anne. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. your body into the soft part of the town, and return alone to Camden Place. And in walking up Milson Street, she had the good fortune to meet with the admiral. He was standing by himself at a print shop window with his hands behind him, in earnest contemplation of some print, and she not only might have passed him unseen, but was obliged to touch as well as address him before she could catch his notice. When he did perceive and acknowledge her, however, it was done with all his usual frankness and good humor. Huh, is it you? Thank you. This is treating me like a friend. Here I am, you see, staring at a picture. I can never get by the shop without stopping. But what a thing here is, by way of a boat. Do look at it. Did you ever see the like? What queer fellows your fine painters must be to think that anybody would venture their lives in such a shapeless old cockle shell as that? Well, turning away. Now, where are you bound? Can I go anywhere with you or for you? Can I be of any use? None, I thank you, unless you will give me the pleasure of your company the little way are road lies together. I am going home. That I will, with all my heart, and farther, too. Yes, yes, we will have a snug walk together, and I have something to tell you as we go along. There. Take my arm. That's right. I do not feel comfortable if I have not a woman there. Lord, what a boat it is! Taking a last look at the picture, as they began to be in motion. Did you say that you had something to tell me, sir? Yes, I have, presently. But here comes a friend, Captain Brickdon. I shall only say, how do you do, as we pass, however, I shall not stop. How do you do? Brickdon stares to see anybody with me but at my wife. She poor soul is tied by the lake. She has a blister on one of her heels, as lards as a three-shelling piece. If you look across the street, you will see Admiral Brand coming down and his brother, Shabby fellows, both of them. I'm glad they are not on this side of the way. Sophie cannot bear them. They played me a pitiful trick once. Got away with some of my best men. I'll tell you the whole story another time. There goes old Sir Archibald drew in his grandson. Look, he sees us. He kisses his hand to you. He takes you for my wife. Oh, the piece has come too soon for that, young girl. Poor old Sir Archibald. How do you like Bath, Miss Elliott? It suits us very well. We're always meeting with some old friend or other. The streets full of them every morning. Sure to have plenty of chat. And then we get away from them all. And shut ourselves in our lodgings. And draw in our chairs. And our snug as if we were a Kellynch. I. Or as we used to be even at North Yarmeth and Deal. We do not like our lodgings here the worse, I can tell you. For putting us in mind of those we had first at North Yarmeth. The wind blows through one of the cupboards just in the same way. Then they were got a little farther and ventured to press again for what he had to communicate, she hoped when clear of Milson Street to have her curiosity gratified, but she was still obliged to wait. For the admiral had made up his mind not to begin till they had gained the greater space and quiet of Belmont. And as she was not really Mrs. Croft, she must let him have his own way. As soon as they were fairly ascending Belmont, he began, Well, now you shall hear something that will surprise you.

But for... As soon as they were fairly ascending Belmont, he began, well, now you shall hear something that will surprise you. But first of all, you must tell me the name of the young lady I'm going to talk about. That young lady, you know, that we have all been so concerned for. The Miss Musgrove, that all this has been happening to, her Christian name. I always forget her Christian name. Anne had been ashamed to appear to comprehend so soon as she really did, but now she could safely suggest the name of Luisa. I, I, Luisa Musgrove, that is the name. I wish young ladies had not such a number of fine Christian names. I should never be out of it if they were all Sophie's or something of that sort. Well, this miss Luisa we all thought, you know, was to marry Frederick. He was courting her week after week. The only wonder was what they could be waiting for. Till the business at Lyme came, then indeed it was clear enough that they must wait till her brain was set to right. But even then there was something odd in their way of going on. Instead of staying at lime, he went off to Plymouth, and then he went off to see Edward. When we came back from mine head, he was gone down to Edwards, and there has been ever sense. We have seen nothing of him since November. Even Sophie could not understand it. But now, the matter has taken the strangest turn of all. For this young lady, the same Miss Musgrove, instead of being to Mary Frederick, is to marry James Benwick. You know James Benwick. A little. I am a little acquainted with Captain Benwick. Well, she is to marry him. Nay, most likely they are married already, for I do not know what they should wait for." I thought Captain Benweck a very pleasing young man said Anne, and I understand that he bears an excellent character. Oh, yes, yes, there is not a word to be said against James Benweck. He is only a commander, it is true. Made last summer, and these are bad times for getting on. But he has not another fault that I know of. An excellent good-hearted fellow, I assure you. A very active zealous officer too, which is more than you would think for perhaps for that soft sort of manner does not do injustice. Indeed you are mistaken there sir, I should never auger want of spirit from Captain Benwick's manners. I thought them particularly pleasing, and I will answer for it. They would generally

please. Well, well, ladies are the best judges, but James Benwick is rather to P&O for me. And though very likely it is all our partiality, Sophie and I cannot help thinking Fredrick's manners better than his. There's something about Fredrick more to our taste. Anne was caught. She had only meant to oppose the two common idea of spirit and gentleness being incompatible with each other, not at all to represent Captain Benwick's manners as the very best that could possibly be. And after a little hesitation, she was beginning to say, I was not entering into any comparison of the two friends. But the admiral interrupted her with. And the thing is certainly true.

It is not a mere bit of gossip.

We have it from Frederick himself.

His sister had a letter from him yesterday,

in which he tells us of it.

And he had just had it in a letter from Harville,

written upon the spot from uppercross. I fancy they are all at uppercross. This was an opportunity which Anne could not resist, she said therefore. I hope Admiral, I hope there is nothing in the style of Captain Wentworth's letter to make you and Mrs. Croft particularly uneasy.

It did seem last autumn as if there were an attachment between him and Louisa Musgrove,

but I hope it may be understood to have worn out on each side equally and without violence.

I hope his letter does not breathe the spirit of an ill-used man. Not at all, not at all. There's not an oath or a murmur from beginning to end. And look down to hide her smile. No, no, Frederick is not a man to whining plane. He has too much spirit for that. If the girl likes another man better, it is very fit she should have him. Certainly. But what I mean is that I hope there is nothing in Captain Wentworth's manner of writing to make you suppose he thinks himself ill-used by his friend, which might appear, you know, without its being absolutely sad. I should be very sorry that such a friendship as his has subsisted between him and Captain Benwick, and that that should be destroyed or even wounded by a circumstance of this sort. Yes, yes, I understand you, but there is nothing at all of that nature in the letter. He does not give the least fling at Benwick. Does not so much say, I wonder at it, I have a reason of my own for wondering at it? No, you would not

guess from his way of writing. Did he ever thought of this miss, what's her name of himself? He very handsomely hopes they will be happy together, and there is nothing very and forgiving in that, I think.

And did not receive the perfect conviction. and there is nothing very unforgiving in that, I think.

And did not receive the perfect conviction, which the admiral meant to convey,

but it would have been useless to press the inquiry farther.

She therefore satisfied herself with commonplace remarks

or quiet attention, and the adm Admiral had it all his own way. Poor Frederick said he at last. Now he must begin all over again with somebody else. I think we must get him to Bath. Sophie must write and beg him to come to bath. Here are pretty girls enough, I'm sure. It would be of no use to go to uppercross again. For that other Miss Musgrove I find is bespoke to her cousin, the young person. not you think, Miss Elliott, we'd better try to get him to bath.

Chapter 19 While Admiral Croft was taking this walk with Anne and expressing his wish of getting Captain Wentworth to bath, Captain Wentworth was already on his way to the There. Before Mrs. Croft had written, he was arrived, and the very next time Anne walked out, she saw him. Mr. Elliott was attending his two cousins and Mrs. Clay. They were in Milsum Street. It began to rain, not much, but enough to make shelter desirable for women, and quite enough to make it very desirable for Miss Elliott to have the advantage of being conveyed home in Lady Dowrymple's carriage, which was seen waiting at a little distance. She, Anne, and Mrs. Clay, therefore, turned into mollons, while Mr. Elliot stepped to Lady Dalrymple to request her assistance. He soon joined them again, successful, of course. Lady Dalrymple would be most happy to take them home and would call for them in a few minutes. Her lady ship's carriage was a barouche and did not hold more than four with any comfort. Miss Cartara was with her mother. Consequently, it was not reasonable to expect accommodation for all the three Camden place ladies. There could be no doubt as to Miss Elliott. Whoever suffered inconvenience, she must suffer none, but it occupied a little time to settle the point of civility between the other two. The rain was a mere trifle, and Anne was most sincere in preferring a walk with Mr. Elliott. But the rain was also a mere trifle to Mrs. Clay. She would hardly allow it even to drop it all. And her boots were so thick, much thicker than Miss Anne's.

And, in short, her civility rendered her quite as anxious to be left to walk with Mr. Elliot, as Anne could be, and it was discussed between them with a generosity so polite and so determined that the others were obliged to settle it for them. Miss Elliott maintaining that Mrs. Clay had a little cold already, and Mr. Elliott deciding on appeal that his cousin Anne's boots were rather the thickest. It was fixed accordingly that Mrs. Clay should be of the party in the carriage, and they had just reached this point when Anne actually sat near the window,

described. should be of the party in the carriage. And they had just reached this point when Anne, as she sat near the window, described most decidedly and distinctly, Captain Wentworth walking down the street. Her start was perceptible only to herself, but she instantly felt that she was the greatest simple tin in the world, the most unaccountable and absurd. For a few minutes she saw nothing before her. It was all confusion. She was lost. And when she had scolded back her senses, she found the others still waiting for the carriage. And Mr. Elliott, always obliging, just setting off for Union Street on a commission of Mrs. Clay's. She now felt a great inclination to go to the outer door. She wanted to see if it rained. Why was she to suspect herself of another motive? Captain Wentworth must be out of sight. She left her seat. She would go. One half of her should not be always so much wiser than the other half, or always suspecting the other of being worse than it is. She would see if it rained. She was sent back, however, in a moment by the entrance of Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of gentlemen and ladies, evidently his acquaintance, and whom he must have joined a little below Milsom Strait. He was more obviously struck and confused by the sight of her than she had ever observed before. He looked quite red. For the first time since they're renewed acquaintance, she felt that she was betraying the least sensibility of the two. She had the advantage of him in the preparation of the last few moments. All the overpowering, blinding, the willering first effects of strong surprise were over with her. Still, however, she had enough to feel. It was agitation, pain, pleasure, a something between delight and misery. He spoke to her and then turned away. The character of his manner was embarrassment. She could not have called it either cold or friendly or anything so certainly as embarrassed. a short interval, however, he came towards her and spoke again. Mutual inquiries on common subjects passed. Neither of them, probably, much the wiser for what they heard, and Anne continuing fully sensible of his being less at ease than formerly. They had by dint of being so very much together, got to speak to each other with a considerable portion of a parent indifference and calmness. But he could not do it now. Time had changed him. Or Louisa had changed him. There was consciousness of some sort or other. He looked very well, not as if he had been suffering in health or spirits, and he talked of upper cross, of a muskroves, nay, even of Louisa, and had even a momentary look of his own arch-significance as he named her. But yet it was Captain Wentworth not comfortable, not easy, not able to feign that he was. It did not surprise, but it grieved Anne to observe that Elizabeth would not know him. She saw that

he saw Elizabeth, that Elizabeth saw him, that there was complete internal recognition on each side. She was convinced that he was ready to be acknowledged as an acquaintance, expecting it. And she had the pain of seeing her sister turn away with unalterable coldness. Lady Dalrymple's carriage, for which Miss Elliott was growing very impatient, now drew up. The servant came into a known set. It was beginning to rain again, and all together there was a delay, and a bustle, and a talking, which must make all the little crowd in the shop understand that Lady Dalrymple was calling to convey Miss Elliott. last Miss Elliott and her friend unattended but by the servant for there was no cousin returned, were walking off and Captain went worth, watching them turned again to Anne and by manner rather than words was offering his services to her. I am much obliged to you, was her answer, but I am not going with them. The carriage would not accommodate so many. I walk. I prefer walking. But it rains. Oh, very little. Nothing that I regard. After a moment's pause, he said, Though I came only yesterday, I have equipped myself properly for bath already, you see. Pointing to a new umbrella, I wish you would make use of it. If you are determined to walk, though I think it would be more prudent to let me get you a chair. She was very much obliged to him, but declined at all, repeating her conviction that the rain would come to nothing at present and adding, I'm only waiting for Mr. Elliott. He will be here in a moment, I'm sure."

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