from the stable-yard to the front door; somebody must be going away. It was driven by a servant in mourning.
The word curricle made Charles Musgrove jump up that he might compare it with his own; the servant in mourning roused Anne’s curiosity, and the whole six were collected to look, by the time the owner of the curricle was to be seen issuing from the door amidst the bows and civilities of the household, and taking his seat, to drive off.
“Ah!” cried Captain Wentworth, instantly, and with half a glance at Anne, “it is the very man we passed.”
The Miss Musgroves agreed to it; and having all kindly watched him as far up the hill as they could, they returned to the breakfast table. The waiter came into the room soon afterwards.
“Pray,” said Captain Wentworth, immediately, “can you tell us the name of the gentleman who is just gone away?”
“Yes, Sir, a Mr. Elliot, a gentleman of large fortune, came in last night from Sidmouth. Dare say you heard the carriage, sir, while you were at dinner; and going on now for Crewkherne, in his way to Bath and London.”
“Elliot!” Many had looked on each other, and many had repeated the name, before all this had been got through, even by the smart rapidity of a waiter.
“Bless me!” cried Mary; “it must be our cousin; it must be our Mr. Elliot, it must, indeed! Charles, Anne, must not it? In mourning, you see, just as our Mr. Elliot must be. How very extraordinary! In the very same inn with us! Anne, must not it be our Mr. Elliot? my father’s next heir? Pray sir,” turning to the waiter, “did not you hear, did not his servant say whether he belonged to the Kellynch family?”