“I have been a good deal acquainted with him,” replied Mrs. Smith, gravely, “but it seems worn out now. It is a great while since we met.”
“I was not at all aware of this. You never mentioned it before. Had I known it, I would have had the pleasure of talking to him about you.”
“To confess the truth,” said Mrs. Smith, assuming her usual air of cheerfulness, “that is exactly the pleasure I want you to have. I want you to talk about me to Mr. Elliot. I want your interest with him. He can be of essential service to me; and if you would have the goodness, my dear Miss Elliot, to make it an object to yourself, of course it is done.”
“I should be extremely happy; I hope you cannot doubt my willingness to be of even the slightest use to you,” replied Anne; “but I suspect that you are considering me as having a higher claim on Mr. Elliot, a greater right to influence him, than is really the case. I am sure you have, somehow or other, imbibed such a notion. You must consider me only as Mr. Elliot’s relation. If in that light there is anything which you suppose his cousin might fairly ask of him, I beg you would not hesitate to employ me.”
Mrs. Smith gave her a penetrating glance, and then, smiling, said—
“I have been a little premature, I perceive; I beg your pardon. I ought to have waited for official information. But now, my dear Miss Elliot, as an old friend, do give me a hint as to when I may speak. Next week? To be sure by next week I may be allowed to think it all settled, and build my own selfish schemes on Mr. Elliot’s good fortune.”
“No,” replied Anne, “nor next week, nor next, nor next. I assure you that nothing of the sort you are thinking of will be settled any week. I am not going to marry Mr. Elliot. I should like to know why you imagine I am?”
Mrs. Smith looked at her again, looked earnestly, smiled, shook her head, and exclaimed—