friendly conference between two persons of totally opposite interests, she calmly said, “Yes, it is Mr. Elliot, certainly. He has changed his hour of going, I suppose, that is all, or I may be mistaken, I might not attend;” and walked back to her chair, recomposed, and with the comfortable hope of having acquitted herself well.
The visitors took their leave; and Charles, having civilly seen them off, and then made a face at them, and abused them for coming, began with—
“Well, mother, I have done something for you that you will like. I have been to the theatre, and secured a box for tomorrow night. A’n’t I a good boy? I know you love a play; and there is room for us all. It holds nine. I have engaged Captain Wentworth. Anne will not be sorry to join us, I am sure. We all like a play. Have not I done well, mother?”
Mrs. Musgrove was good humouredly beginning to express her perfect readiness for the play, if Henrietta and all the others liked it, when Mary eagerly interrupted her by exclaiming—
“Good heavens, Charles! how can you think of such a thing? Take a box for tomorrow night! Have you forgot that we are engaged to Camden Place tomorrow night? and that we were most particularly asked to meet Lady Dalrymple and her daughter, and Mr. Elliot, and all the principal family connections, on purpose to be introduced to them? How can you be so forgetful?”
“Phoo! phoo!” replied Charles, “what’s an evening party? Never worth remembering. Your father might have asked us to dinner, I think, if he had wanted to see us. You may do as you like, but I shall go to the play.”
“Oh! Charles, I declare it will be too abominable if you do, when you promised to go.”