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as often as you like, and come and go as you wish, without ever giving me word.’

    ‘When you but your estate, if you want to please me—’

    ‘It will be my first consideration.’

    ‘—I beg you to buy one with a living attached, and give it to me,’ he said. ‘Waiting for one to fall vacant is slow work, and with no one to speak for me, I fear I will be a curate ’til I am seventy.’

    ‘I will do my best,’ I promised him.

    ‘And make sure it is a good living, with a fine house attached, nothing poky or dark, with plenty of land.’

    ‘Have you anything else to add?’

    ‘I would not object to a stretch of river, and a fine library.’

    ‘And a house in town as well, I suppose.’

    He laughed, and said that if he was dreaming, he might as well do it in style.

    ‘Even so, I wish you might find promotion, and find it soon. Is there no one to speak for you?’ I asked.

    ‘The bishop is a friend of Melchester’s wife—you remember Melchester? We were at Cambridge together.’

    ‘Yes, I remember him. A stout fellow, with a liking for port. So will the bishop speak for you, do you think?’

    ‘He will if he can, but he has his own relatives to think of first, and two of them have entered the church. So you see, it is not very promising.’

    ‘And is there nothing you might do on your own account?’

    ‘I am doing all I can. There are one or two possibilities. Mr Abbott, the curate of Leigh Ings, has just been given a living by one of his cousins, and I believe I have a chance of adding the vacant curacy to my own. The duties are light, and it would mean an increase in my stipend. There is also the possibility of a living in Trewithing becoming available, and as there is no one waiting for it, it might fall to me.’

    I expressed the hope that it would be so, and then I set about making my arrangements for visiting Harville. I am looking forward to meeting Harriet, and seeing what sort of woman has won the heart of my friend.

Wednesday 16 July

    We dined with the Grayshotts this evening, and after dinner the ladies entertained us with music. Miss Denton was persuaded to perform by her mother, and proved herself a great proficient. After being encouraged by her mother to play a second sonata, she relinquished the stool, entreating Miss Anne to play. More hesitantly, Miss Anne approached the instrument. Her father looked up as she began to play and I thought here, at last, was some evidence of paternal feeling, but he turned his attention back to his conversation and continued to talk through her performance. Miss Elliot did not even do that much, and never once glanced in her sister’s direction.

    As Miss Anne’s song continued, I was drawn over to the pianoforte, for her voice was sweet and her playing showed a superior taste. I listened with pleasure, and when she had done, I asked her to favour us again. She looked surprised, then she flushed with gratification and began another song. I sang with her, and we entertained ourselves as well as others.

Friday 18 July

    I went into town this morning, and on my return I happened to pass a small house, from which came the sound of wailing. I hesitated, but upon hearing Miss Anne’s voice coming from inside I went in, and a strange scene met my eyes. A buxom woman was sitting in the corner of the room with her apron over her head, whilst seven children were rioting by the hearth. Miss Anne, having evidently just arrived, was speaking quietly but firmly to the children, who, it became plain, were arguing over a scrap of a puppy.

    She picked the puppy up and cradled it in her arms, for it had been overwhelmed by the boisterous children. The older children jumped at it, but she reprimanded them until they stood quietly, then she soothed the younger children, who were in tears, and spoke bracingly to the woman, who, at last, emerged from behind her apron.

    Within a few minutes harmony was restored, or what appeared to pass for harmony in the