lost entirely what immediately followed; but it was impossible for her not to distinguish parts of the rest, for the Admiral, on the strength of the Door’s being shut, was speaking without any management of voice, though she could hear his companion trying to check him. She could not doubt their being speaking of her. She heard her own name and Kellynch repeatedly. She was very much distressed. She knew not what to do, or what to expect, and among other agonies felt the possibility of Captain Wentworth’s not returning into the room at all, which after her consenting to stay would have been—too bad for Language. They seemed to be talking of the Admiral's Lease of Kellynch. She heard him say something of ‘the Lease being signed or not signed’—that was not likely to be a very agitating subject; but then followed: ‘I hate to be at an uncertainty. I must know at once. Sophy thinks the same.’ Then, in a lower tone, Captain Wentworth seemed remonstrating—wanting to be excused—wanting to put something off. ‘Phoo, Phoo!’ answered the Admiral, ‘now is the Time. If you will not speak, I will stop and speak myself’ 'Very well, Sir, very well, Sir,’ followed with some impatience from his companion, opening the door as he spoke. ‘You will, then—you promise you will?’ replied the Admiral, in all the power of his natural voice, unbroken even by one thin door. ‘Yes, Sir, yes.’ And the Admiral was hastily left, the door was closed, and the moment arrived in which Anne was alone with Captain Wentworth. She could not attempt to see how he looked; but he walked immediately to a window, as if irresolute and embarrassed; and for about the space of five seconds, she repented what she had done, censured it as unwise, blushed over it as indelicate. She longed to be able to speak of the weather or the Concert, but could only compass the relief of taking a Newspaper in her hand. The distressing pause was soon over, however;
