Persuasion

Wentworth becomes a fixture at Uppercross, drawn by the Musgroves' warm hospitality and the admiration of the young ladies. A romantic triangle emerges: Charles Hayter, a cousin and curate, had been courting Henrietta before Wentworth arrived. Now Henrietta's attention has shifted entirely. Charles Hayter returns to find himself forgotten, Captain Wentworth everywhere, and his previous understanding with Henrietta apparently dissolved. Mary and Charles debate which sister Wentworth prefers, calculating the social advantages of such a match—"Lady Wentworth sounds very well!" Anne says nothing. She knows Wentworth is deliberately courting either Musgrove sister, perhaps both, proving to himself and Anne that he's moved on. His power with her may be gone, but hers with him clearly isn't, or he wouldn't need to prove anything. Then comes a moment that undoes Anne completely. Wentworth calls at the Cottage, expecting to find the Miss Musgroves. Instead he finds Anne alone with the invalid child. The surprise deprives him of his usual composure—he startles, retreats to the window, clearly wishes to be anywhere else. They speak the bare minimum. The tension is unbearable. Then Charles Hayter arrives, sullen and resentful. The room fills with awkward silence. Mary's toddler Walter bursts in and immediately fastens himself onto Anne, climbing on her back while she's kneeling by the sick child. She can't shake him off. She orders, entreats, insists—nothing works. Charles Hayter tries to call the boy away; Walter ignores him. Then suddenly Anne is released. Someone has lifted the child off her—Wentworth has stepped forward and removed him, silently, without a word. She can't even thank him. He makes noise with the child, studiously avoiding her gratitude, making clear that her conversation is "the last of his wants." But he touched her. After eight years of nothing, he helped her. It's a trifle, yet Anne can barely function afterward. She flees the room, ashamed of being so overcome by such a small kindness. But it wasn't small. It was everything.