"Well, you are very uncivil, I must say; you had better obtain someone else's assurance if you will not accept mine. Though anyone can see how it has come about; naturally the Elliots have pushed it forward to the utmost of their power. Sir Walter wants a pretty wife, and as he cannot support one out of that vanished fortune of his, he must choose one who has enough for both. And Miss Elliot would like to establish a connection between the families for the sake of a certain Mr. Henry Crawford, who is still unmarried--he is a rake, of course, but she does not mind that. You know which he is?--the dark young man standing up at the back of the box." Colonel Fitzwilliam was so excessively disturbed and irritated by this conversation, which he had endeavoured to check by saying: "You must be quite satisfied now, Mrs. Stuart, with the answers you have provided to your own question," that the rising of the curtain was a great relief; he could sit silent, inattentive to the play, wrapped in his own anxious thoughts. Mrs. Stuart's was certainly not the last word on this terribly important matter, for he felt he must hear the facts from some other quarter before he could credit them. The fine scene of Banquo's murder was played, as far as he was concerned, to deaf ears, and his eyes continually sought the box above, where he could just see Mary's white cloak, and Sir Walter's fashionable attire always, it seemed, in proximity to it. The instant the curtain fell again he rose from his seat and made the best of his way towards the exit, but so many gentlemen were leaving their seats at the same time that he found himself in a crowd where it was impossible to progress at any great rate of speed. At this moment he heard his name pronounced behind him, and looking round, he recognized two friends, former brother officers of his own, who had remained seated near the end of one of the rows. Impatient of the delay, he nevertheless went to them and remained a few minutes in talk, finding that one of his friends, Captain Ross, was lame and had difficulty moving along the narrow gangways. They were presently joined by a Mr. Palmer, whom Fitzwilliam knew as a man of few words, reserved, and of almost unamiable temper, but thoroughly trustworthy, and too little interested in his neighbours' affairs to be possessed of any superfluous knowledge concerning them. Fitzwilliam had a slight acquaintance with him, and after a little consideration he asked him, as if casually: "Do you know anything of Sir Walter Elliot, Palmer?" "As much as I want to," was the reply. "A stupid fellow. If he were framed and glazed he would be a good deal more useful than he now is, I consider." Captain Ross laughingly agreed with him, claiming some knowledge of Sir Walter Elliot himself, and calling on his hearers to witness the inequality of human justice, when such a man as that could find a young and charming wife.