101:013,00[U ]| 101:013,01[' ]| No*one who had ever seen Catherine*Morland in her 101:013,02[' ]| infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine. 101:013,03[' ]| Her situation in life, the character of her father and 101:013,04[' ]| mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally 101:013,05[' ]| against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being 101:013,06[' ]| neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though 101:013,07[' ]| his name was Richard ~~ and he had never been handsome. 101:013,08[' ]| He had a considerable independence, besides two good 101:013,09[' ]| livings ~~ and he was not in the least addicted to locking 101:013,10[' ]| up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful 101:013,11[' ]| plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more 101:013,12[' ]| remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three 101:013,13[' ]| sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in 101:013,14[' ]| bringing the latter into the world, as any*body might 101:013,15[' ]| expect, she still lived on ~~ lived to have six children more 101:013,16[' ]| ~~ to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy 101:013,17[' ]| excellent health herself. A family of ten children will be 101:013,18[' ]| always called a fine family, where there are heads and 101:013,19[' ]| arms and legs enough for the number; but the Morlands 101:013,20[' ]| had little other right to the word, for they were in general 101:013,21[' ]| very plain, and Catherine for many years of her life, as 101:013,22[' ]| plain as any. She had a thin awkward figure, a sallow 101:013,23[' ]| skin without colour, dark lank hair, and strong features; ~~ 101:013,24[' ]| so much for her person; ~~ and not less unpropitious for 101:013,25[' ]| heroism seemed her mind. She was fond of all boys' 101:013,26[' ]| plays, and greatly preferred cricket not merely to dolls, 101:013,27[' ]| but to the more heroic enjoyments of infancy, nursing 101:013,28[' ]| a dormouse, feeding a canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. 101:013,29[' ]| Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she 101:014,01[' ]| gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of 101:014,02[' ]| mischief ~~ at least so it was conjectured from her always 101:014,03[' ]| preferring those which she was forbidden to take. ~~ Such 101:014,04[' ]| were her propensities ~~ her abilities were quite as extraordinary. 101:014,05[' ]| She never could learn or understand any*thing 101:014,06[' ]| before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, 101:014,07[' ]| for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid. 101:014,08[' ]| Her mother was three months in teaching her only to 101:014,09[' ]| repeat the "Beggar's*Petition;" and after all, her next 101:014,10[' ]| sister, Sally, could say it better than she did. Not that 101:014,11[' ]| Catherine was always stupid, ~~ by no means; she learnt 101:014,12[' ]| the fable of "The*Hare*and*many*Friends," as quickly 101:014,13[' ]| as any girl in England. Her mother wished her to learn 101:014,14[' ]| music; and Catherine was sure she should like it, for 101:014,15[' ]| she was very fond of tinkling the keys of the old forlorn 101:014,16[' ]| spinnet; so, at eight years old she began. She learnt 101:014,17[' ]| a year, and could not bear it; ~~ and Mrs%*Morland, who 101:014,18[' ]| did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in 101:014,19[' ]| spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off. 101:014,20[' ]| The day which dismissed the music-master was one of 101:014,21[' ]| the happiest of Catherine's life. Her taste for drawing 101:014,22[' ]| was not superior; though whenever she could obtain the 101:014,23[' ]| outside of a letter from her mother, or seize upon any 101:014,24[' ]| other odd piece of paper, she did what she could in that 101:014,25[' ]| way, by drawing houses and trees, hens and chickens, all 101:014,26[' ]| very much like one another. ~~ Writing and accounts she 101:014,27[' ]| was taught by her father; French by her mother: her 101:014,28[' ]| proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked 101:014,29[' ]| her lessons in both whenever she could. What a strange, 101:014,30[' ]| unaccountable character! ~~ for with all these symptoms of 101:014,31[' ]| profligacy at ten years old, she had neither a bad heart 101:014,32[' ]| nor a bad temper; was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever 101:014,33[' ]| quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few 101:014,34[' ]| interruptions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy and 101:014,35[' ]| wild, hated confinement and cleanliness, and loved 101:014,36[' ]| nothing so well in the world as rolling down the green 101:014,37[' ]| slope at the back of the house. 101:014,38[' ]| Such was Catherine*Morland at ten. At fifteen, appearances 101:015,01[' ]| were mending; she began to curl her hair and long 101:015,02[' ]| for balls; her complexion improved, her features were 101:015,03[' ]| softened by plumpness and colour, her eyes gained more 101:015,04[' ]| animation, and her figure more consequence. Her love of 101:015,05[' ]| dirt gave way to an inclination for finery, and she grew 101:015,06[' ]| clean as she grew smart; she had now the pleasure of 101:015,07[' ]| sometimes hearing her father and mother remark on her 101:015,08[' ]| personal improvement. 101:015,08[Y ]| "Catherine grows quite a good-looking 101:015,09[Y ]| girl, ~~ she is almost pretty to*day," 101:015,09[' ]| were words 101:015,10[' ]| which caught her ears now and then; and how welcome 101:015,11[' ]| were the sounds! To look \almost\ pretty, is an acquisition 101:015,12[' ]| of higher delight to a girl who has been looking plain the 101:015,13[' ]| first fifteen years of her life, than a beauty from her cradle 101:015,14[' ]| can ever receive. 101:015,15[' ]| Mrs%*Morland was a very good woman, and wished to 101:015,16[' ]| see her children every*thing they ought to be; but her 101:015,17[' ]| time was so much occupied in lying-in and teaching the 101:015,18[' ]| little ones, that her elder daughters were inevitably left 101:015,19[' ]| to shift for themselves; and it was not very wonderful 101:015,20[' ]| that Catherine who had by nature nothing heroic about 101:015,21[' ]| her, should prefer cricket, base*ball, riding on horseback, 101:015,22[' ]| and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to 101:015,23[' ]| books ~~ or at least books of information ~~ for, provided 101:015,24[' ]| that nothing like useful knowledge could be gained from 101:015,25[' ]| them, provided they were all story and no reflection, she 101:015,26[' ]| had never any objection to books at all. But from fifteen 101:015,27[' ]| to seventeen she was in training for a heroine; she read 101:015,28[' ]| all such works as heroines must read to supply their 101:015,29[' ]| memories with those quotations which are so serviceable 101:015,30[' ]| and so soothing in the vicissitudes of their eventful lives. 101:015,31[' ]| From Pope, she learnt to censure those who 101:015,32@z | "bear about the mockery of woe." 101:015,33[' ]| From Gray, that 101:015,34@z | "Many a flower is born to blush unseen, 101:015,35@z | "And waste its fragrance on the desert air." 101:015,36[' ]| From Thompson, that 101:015,37@z | ~~ "It is a delightful task 101:015,38@z | "To teach the young idea how to shoot." 101:016,01[' ]| And from Shakspeare she gained a great store of 101:016,02[' ]| information ~~ amongst the rest, that 101:016,03@z | ~~ "Trifles light as air, 101:016,04@z | "Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong, 101:016,05@z | "As proofs of Holy Writ." 101:016,06[' ]| That 101:016,07@z | "The poor beetle, which we tread upon, 101:016,08@z | "In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great 101:016,09@z | "As when a giant dies." 101:016,10[' ]| And that a young woman in love always looks 101:016,11@z | ~~ "like Patience on a monument 101:016,12@z | "Smiling at Grief." 101:016,13[' ]| So far her improvement was sufficient ~~ and in many 101:016,14[' ]| other points she came on exceedingly well; for though 101:016,15[' ]| she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read 101:016,16[' ]| them; and though there seemed no chance of her throwing 101:016,17[' ]| a whole party into raptures by a prelude on the 101:016,18[' ]| pianoforte, of her own composition, she could listen to 101:016,19[' ]| other people's performance with very little fatigue. Her 101:016,20[' ]| greatest deficiency was in the pencil ~~ she had no notion 101:016,21[' ]| of drawing ~~ not enough even to attempt a sketch of her 101:016,22[' ]| lover's profile, that she might be detected in the design. 101:016,23[' ]| There she fell miserably short of the true heroic height. 101:016,24[' ]| At present she did not know her own poverty, for she had 101:016,25[' ]| no lover to pourtray. She had reached the age of 101:016,26[' ]| seventeen, without having seen one amiable youth who 101:016,27[' ]| could call forth her sensibility; without having inspired 101:016,28[' ]| one real passion, and without having excited even any 101:016,29[' ]| admiration but what was very moderate and very transient. 101:016,30[' ]| This was strange indeed! But strange things may 101:016,31[' ]| be generally accounted for if their cause be fairly searched 101:016,32[' ]| out. There was not one lord in the neighbourhood; no ~~ 101:016,33[' ]| not even a baronet. There was not one family among 101:016,34[' ]| their acquaintance who had reared and supported a boy 101:016,35[' ]| accidentally found at their door ~~ not one young man 101:016,36[' ]| whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward, 101:016,37[' ]| and the squire of the parish no children. 101:016,38[' ]| But when a young lady is to be a heroine, the perverseness 101:016,39[' ]| of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her. 101:017,01[' ]| Something must and will happen to throw a hero in her 101:017,02[' ]| way. 101:017,03[' ]| Mr%*Allen, who owned the chief of the property about 101:017,04[' ]| Fullerton, the village in Wiltshire where the Morlands 101:017,05[' ]| lived, was ordered to Bath for the benefit of a gouty constitution; ~~ 101:017,06[' ]| and his lady, a good-humoured woman, fond 101:017,07[' ]| of Miss*Morland and probably aware that if adventures 101:017,08[' ]| will not befal a young lady in her own village, she must 101:017,09[' ]| seek them abroad, invited her to go with them. Mr% and Mrs%*Morland 101:017,10[' ]| were all compliance, and Catherine all 101:017,11[' ]| happiness. 102:018,01[' ]| In addition to what has been already said of Catherine*Morland's 102:018,02[' ]| personal and mental endowments, when about 102:018,03[' ]| to be launched into all the difficulties and dangers of 102:018,04[' ]| a six weeks' residence in Bath, it may be stated, for the 102:018,05[' ]| reader's more certain information, lest the following pages 102:018,06[' ]| should otherwise fail of giving any idea of what her 102:018,07[' ]| character is meant to be; that her heart was affectionate, 102:018,08[' ]| her disposition cheerful and open, without secret conceit or 102:018,09[' ]| affectation of any kind ~~ her manners just removed from 102:018,10[' ]| the awkwardness and shyness of a girl; her person 102:018,11[' ]| pleasing, and, when in good looks, pretty ~~ and her mind 102:018,12[' ]| about as ignorant and uninformed as the female mind 102:018,13[' ]| at seventeen usually is. 102:018,14[' ]| When the hour of departure drew near, the maternal 102:018,15[' ]| anxiety of Mrs%*Morland will be naturally supposed to be 102:018,16[' ]| most severe. A thousand alarming presentiments of evil 102:018,17[' ]| to her beloved Catherine from this terrific separation 102:018,18[' ]| must oppress her heart with sadness, and drown her in 102:018,19[' ]| tears for the last day or two of their being together; and 102:018,20[' ]| advice of the most important and applicable nature must 102:018,21[' ]| of course flow from her wise lips in their parting conference 102:018,22[' ]| in her closet. Cautions against the violence of such 102:018,23[' ]| noblemen and baronets as delight in forcing young ladies 102:018,24[' ]| away to some remote farm-house, must, at such a moment, 102:018,25[' ]| relieve the fulness of her heart. Who would not think so? 102:018,26[' ]| But Mrs%*Morland knew so little of lords and baronets, 102:018,27[' ]| that she entertained no notion of their general mischievousness, 102:018,28[' ]| and was wholly unsuspicious of danger to her daughter 102:018,29[' ]| from their machinations. Her cautions were confined to 102:018,30[' ]| the following points. 102:018,30[J ]| "I beg, Catherine you will always 102:018,31[J ]| wrap yourself up very warm about the throat, when you 102:018,32[J ]| come from the Rooms at night; and I wish you would 102:019,01[J ]| try to keep some account of the money you spend; ~~ 102:019,02[J ]| I will give you this little book on purpose." 102:019,03[' ]| Sally or rather Sarah, (for what young lady of common 102:019,04[' ]| gentility will reach the age of sixteen without altering 102:019,05[' ]| her name as far as she can?) must from situation be at 102:019,06[' ]| this time the intimate friend and confidante of her sister. 102:019,07[' ]| It is remarkable, however, that she neither insisted on 102:019,08[' ]| Catherine's writing by every post, nor exacted her promise 102:019,09[' ]| of transmitting the character of every new acquaintance, 102:019,10[' ]| nor a detail of every interesting conversation that Bath 102:019,11[' ]| might produce. Every*thing indeed relative to this 102:019,12[' ]| important journey was done, on the part of the Morlands, 102:019,13[' ]| with a degree of moderation and composure, which 102:019,14[' ]| seemed rather consistent with the common feelings of 102:019,15[' ]| common life, than with the refined susceptibilities, the 102:019,16[' ]| tender emotions which the first separation of a heroine 102:019,17[' ]| from her family ought always to excite. Her father, 102:019,18[' ]| instead of giving her an unlimited order on his banker, or 102:019,19[' ]| even putting an hundred pounds bank-bill into her hands, 102:019,20[' ]| gave her only ten guineas, and promised her more when 102:019,21[' ]| she wanted it. 102:019,22[' ]| Under these unpromising auspices, the parting took 102:019,23[' ]| place, and the journey began. It was performed with 102:019,24[' ]| suitable quietness and uneventful safety. Neither robbers 102:019,25[' ]| nor tempests befriended them, nor one lucky overturn to 102:019,26[' ]| introduce them to the hero. Nothing more alarming 102:019,27[' ]| occurred than a fear on Mrs%*Allen's side, of having once 102:019,28[' ]| left her clogs behind her at an inn, and that fortunately 102:019,29[' ]| proved to be groundless. 102:019,30[' ]| They arrived at Bath. Catherine was all eager delight; ~~ 102:019,31[' ]| her eyes were here, there, every*where, as they approached 102:019,32[' ]| its fine and striking environs, and afterwards drove 102:019,33[' ]| through those streets which conducted them to the hotel. 102:019,34[' ]| She was come to be happy, and she felt happy already. 102:019,35[' ]| They were soon settled in comfortable lodgings in 102:019,36[' ]| Pulteney-street. 102:019,37[' ]| It is now expedient to give some description of Mrs%*Allen, 102:019,38[' ]| that the reader may be able to judge, in what 102:020,01[' ]| manner her actions will hereafter tend to promote the 102:020,02[' ]| general distress of the work, and how she will, probably, 102:020,03[' ]| contribute to reduce poor Catherine to all the desperate 102:020,04[' ]| wretchedness of which a last volume is capable ~~ whether 102:020,05[' ]| by her imprudence, vulgarity, or jealousy ~~ whether by 102:020,06[' ]| intercepting her letters, ruining her character, or turning 102:020,07[' ]| her out of doors. 102:020,08[' ]| Mrs%*Allen was one of that numerous class of females, 102:020,09[' ]| whose society can raise no other emotion than surprise at 102:020,10[' ]| there being any men in the world who could like them 102:020,11[' ]| well enough to marry them. She had neither beauty, 102:020,12[' ]| genius, accomplishment, nor manner. The air of a gentlewoman, 102:020,13[' ]| a great deal of quiet, inactive good temper, and 102:020,14[' ]| a trifling turn of mind, were all that could account for 102:020,15[' ]| her being the choice of a sensible, intelligent man, like 102:020,16[' ]| Mr%*Allen. In one respect she was admirably fitted to 102:020,17[' ]| introduce a young lady into public, being as fond of going 102:020,18[' ]| every*where and seeing every*thing herself as any young 102:020,19[' ]| lady could be. Dress was her passion. She had a most 102:020,20[' ]| harmless delight in being fine; and our heroine's entre=e 102:020,21[' ]| into life could not take place till after three or four days 102:020,22[' ]| had been spent in learning what was mostly worn, and 102:020,23[' ]| her chaperon was provided with a dress of the newest 102:020,24[' ]| fashion. Catherine too made some purchases herself, and 102:020,25[' ]| when all these matters were arranged, the important 102:020,26[' ]| evening came which was to usher her into the Upper*Rooms. 102:020,27[' ]| Her hair was cut and dressed by the best hand, 102:020,28[' ]| her clothes put on with care, and both Mrs%*Allen and her 102:020,29[' ]| maid declared she looked quite as she should do. With 102:020,30[' ]| such encouragement, Catherine hoped at least to pass 102:020,31[' ]| uncensured through the crowd. As for admiration, it was 102:020,32[' ]| always very welcome when it came, but she did not 102:020,33[' ]| depend on it. 102:020,34[' ]| Mrs%*Allen was so long in dressing, that they did not 102:020,35[' ]| enter the ball-room till late. The season was full, the 102:020,36[' ]| room crowded, and the two ladies squeezed in as well as 102:020,37[' ]| they could. As for Mr%*Allen, he repaired directly to the 102:020,38[' ]| card-room, and left them to enjoy a mob by themselves. 102:021,01[' ]| With more care for the safety of her new gown than for 102:021,02[' ]| the comfort of her protege=e, Mrs%*Allen made her way 102:021,03[' ]| through the throng of men by the door, as swiftly as the 102:021,04[' ]| necessary caution would allow; Catherine, however, kept 102:021,05[' ]| close at her side, and linked her arm too firmly within her 102:021,06[' ]| friend's to be torn asunder by any common effort of 102:021,07[' ]| a struggling assembly. But to her utter amazement she 102:021,08[' ]| found that to proceed along the room was by no means 102:021,09[' ]| the way to disengage themselves from the crowd; it 102:021,10[' ]| seemed rather to increase as they went on, whereas she 102:021,11[' ]| had imagined that when once fairly within the door, they 102:021,12[' ]| should easily find seats and be able to watch the dances 102:021,13[' ]| with perfect convenience. But this was far from being 102:021,14[' ]| the case, and though by unwearied diligence they gained 102:021,15[' ]| even the top of the room, their situation was just the 102:021,16[' ]| same; they saw nothing of the dancers but the high 102:021,17[' ]| feathers of some of the ladies. Still they moved on ~~ 102:021,18[' ]| something better was yet in view; and by a continued 102:021,19[' ]| exertion of strength and ingenuity they found themselves 102:021,20[' ]| at last in the passage behind the highest bench. Here 102:021,21[' ]| there was something less of crowd than below; and hence 102:021,22[' ]| Miss*Morland had a comprehensive view of all the company 102:021,23[' ]| beneath her, and of all the dangers of her late 102:021,24[' ]| passage through them. It was a splendid sight, and she 102:021,25[' ]| began, for the first time that evening, to feel herself at 102:021,26[' ]| a ball: she longed to dance, but she had not an acquaintance 102:021,27[' ]| in the room. Mrs%*Allen did all that she could do in 102:021,28[' ]| such a case by saying very placidly, every now and then, 102:021,29[I ]| "I wish you could dance, my dear, ~~ I wish you could 102:021,30[I ]| get a partner." 102:021,30[' ]| For some time her young friend felt 102:021,31[' ]| obliged to her for these wishes; but they were repeated 102:021,32[' ]| so often, and proved so totally ineffectual, that Catherine 102:021,33[' ]| grew tired at last, and would thank her no more. 102:021,34[' ]| They were not long able, however, to enjoy the repose 102:021,35[' ]| of the eminence they had so laboriously gained. ~~ Every*body 102:021,36[' ]| was shortly in motion for tea, and they must squeeze 102:021,37[' ]| out like the rest. Catherine began to feel something of 102:021,38[' ]| disappointment ~~ she was tired of being continually pressed 102:022,01[' ]| against by people, the generality of whose faces possessed 102:022,02[' ]| nothing to interest, and with all of whom she was so 102:022,03[' ]| wholly unacquainted, that she could not relieve the 102:022,04[' ]| irksomeness of imprisonment by the exchange of a 102:022,05[' ]| syllable with any of her fellow captives; and when at 102:022,06[' ]| last arrived in the tea-room, she felt yet more the awkwardness 102:022,07[' ]| of having no party to join, no acquaintance to claim, 102:022,08[' ]| no gentleman to assist them. ~~ They saw nothing of Mr%*Allen; 102:022,09[' ]| and after looking about them in vain for a more 102:022,10[' ]| eligible situation, were obliged to sit down at the end of 102:022,11[' ]| a table, at which a large party were already placed, 102:022,12[' ]| without having any*thing to do there, or any*body to 102:022,13[' ]| speak to, except each other. 102:022,14[' ]| Mrs%*Allen congratulated herself, as soon as they were 102:022,15[' ]| seated, on having preserved her gown from injury. 102:022,15[I ]| "It 102:022,16[I ]| would have been very shocking to have it torn," 102:022,16[' ]| said she, 102:022,17[I ]| "would 102:022,18[I ]| not it? ~~ It is such a delicate muslin. ~~ For my 102:022,19[I ]| part I have not seen any*thing I like so well in the whole 102:022,20[I ]| room, I assure you." 102:022,20[A ]| "How uncomfortable it is," 102:022,20[' ]| whispered Catherine, 102:022,20[A ]| "not 102:022,21[A ]| to have a single acquaintance here!" 102:022,21[I ]| "Yes, my dear," 102:022,21[' ]| replied Mrs%*Allen, with perfect 102:022,22[' ]| serenity, 102:022,22[I ]| "it is very uncomfortable indeed." 102:022,22[A ]| "What shall we do? ~~ The gentlemen and ladies at 102:022,23[A ]| this table look as if they wondered why we came here ~~ 102:022,24[A ]| we seem forcing ourselves into their party." 102:022,25[I ]| "Aye, so we do. ~~ That is very disagreeable. I wish 102:022,26[I ]| we had a large acquaintance here." 102:022,27[A ]| "I wish we had \any\; ~~ it would be somebody to go to." 102:022,28[I ]| "Very true, my dear; and if we knew any*body we 102:022,29[I ]| would join them directly. The Skinners were here last 102:022,30[I ]| year ~~ I wish they were here now." 102:022,31[A ]| "Had not we better go away as it is? ~~ Here are no 102:022,32[A ]| tea things for us, you see." 102:022,33[I ]| "No more there are, indeed. ~~ How very provoking! 102:022,34[I ]| But I think we had better sit still, for one gets so tumbled 102:022,35[I ]| in such a crowd! How is my head, my dear? ~~ Some*body 102:022,36[I ]| gave me a push that has hurt it I am afraid!" 102:023,01[A ]| "No, indeed, it looks very nice. ~~ But, dear Mrs%*Allen, 102:023,02[A ]| are you sure there is nobody you know in all this multitude 102:023,03[A ]| of people? I think you \must\ know somebody." 102:023,04[I ]| "I don't upon my word ~~ I wish I did. I wish I had 102:023,05[I ]| a large acquaintance here with all my heart, and then 102:023,06[I ]| I should get you a partner. ~~ I should be so glad to have 102:023,07[I ]| you dance. There goes a strange-looking woman! What 102:023,08[I ]| an odd gown she has got on! ~~ How old fashioned it is! 102:023,09[I ]| Look at the back." 102:023,10[' ]| After some time they received an offer of tea from one 102:023,11[' ]| of their neighbours; it was thankfully accepted, and this 102:023,12[' ]| introduced a light conversation with the gentleman who 102:023,13[' ]| offered it, which was the only time that any*body spoke 102:023,14[' ]| to them during the evening, till they were discovered and 102:023,15[' ]| joined by Mr%*Allen when the dance was over. 102:023,15[H ]| "Well, Miss*Morland," 102:023,15[' ]| said he, directly, 102:023,15[H ]| "I hope you 102:023,16[H ]| have had an agreeable ball." 102:023,17[A ]| "Very agreeable indeed," 102:023,17[' ]| she replied, vainly endeavouring 102:023,18[' ]| to hide a great yawn. 102:023,19[I ]| "I wish she had been able to dance," 102:023,19[' ]| said his wife, 102:023,20[I ]| "I wish we could have got a partner for her. ~~ I have 102:023,21[I ]| been saying how glad I should be if the Skinners were 102:023,22[I ]| here this winter instead of last; or if the Parrys had 102:023,23[I ]| come, as they talked of once, she might have danced with 102:023,24[I ]| George*Parry. I am so sorry she has not had a partner!" 102:023,25[H ]| "We shall do better another evening I hope," 102:023,25[' ]| was Mr%*Allen's 102:023,26[' ]| consolation. 102:023,27[' ]| The company began to disperse when the dancing was 102:023,28[' ]| over ~~ enough to leave space for the remainder to walk 102:023,29[' ]| about in some comfort; and now was the time for 102:023,30[' ]| a heroine, who had not yet played a very distinguished 102:023,31[' ]| part in the events of the evening, to be noticed and 102:023,32[' ]| admired. Every five minutes, by removing some of the 102:023,33[' ]| crowd, gave greater openings for her charms. She was 102:023,34[' ]| now seen by many young men who had not been near her 102:023,35[' ]| before. Not one, however, started with rapturous wonder 102:023,36[' ]| on beholding her, no whisper of eager inquiry ran round 102:023,37[' ]| the room, nor was she once called a divinity by any*body. 102:024,01[' ]| Yet Catherine was in very good looks, and had the 102:024,02[' ]| company only seen her three years before, they would 102:024,03[' ]| \now\ have thought her exceedingly handsome. 102:024,04[' ]| She \was\ looked at however, and with some admiration; 102:024,05[' ]| for, in her own hearing, two gentlemen pronounced her 102:024,06[' ]| to be a pretty girl. Such words had their due effect; 102:024,07[' ]| she immediately thought the evening pleasanter than she 102:024,08[' ]| had found it before ~~ her humble vanity was contented ~~ 102:024,09[' ]| she felt more obliged to the two young men for this 102:024,10[' ]| simple praise than a true quality heroine would have been 102:024,11[' ]| for fifteen sonnets in celebration of her charms, and went 102:024,12[' ]| to her chair in good*humour with every*body, and perfectly 102:024,13[' ]| satisfied with her share of public attention. 103:025,01[' ]| Every morning now brought its regular duties; ~~ 103:025,02[' ]| shops were to be visited; some new part of the town to 103:025,03[' ]| be looked at; and the Pump-room to be attended, where 103:025,04[' ]| they paraded up and down for an hour, looking at every*body 103:025,05[' ]| and speaking to no*one. The wish of a numerous 103:025,06[' ]| acquaintance in Bath was still uppermost with Mrs%*Allen, 103:025,07[' ]| and she repeated it after every fresh proof, which 103:025,08[' ]| every morning brought, of her knowing nobody at all. 103:025,09[' ]| They made their appearance in the Lower*Rooms; 103:025,10[' ]| and here fortune was more favourable to our heroine. 103:025,11[' ]| The master of the ceremonies introduced to her a very 103:025,12[' ]| gentlemanlike young man as a partner; ~~ his name was 103:025,13[' ]| Tilney. He seemed to be about four or five*and*twenty, 103:025,14[' ]| was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance, a very 103:025,15[' ]| intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, 103:025,16[' ]| was very near it. His address was good, and Catherine 103:025,17[' ]| felt herself in high luck. There was little leisure for 103:025,18[' ]| speaking while they danced; but when they were seated 103:025,19[' ]| at tea, she found him as agreeable as she had already 103:025,20[' ]| given him credit for being. He talked with fluency and 103:025,21[' ]| spirit ~~ and there was an archness and pleasantry in his 103:025,22[' ]| manner which interested, though it was hardly understood 103:025,23[' ]| by her. After chatting some time on such matters 103:025,24[' ]| as naturally arose from the objects around them, he 103:025,25[' ]| suddenly addressed her with ~~ 103:025,25[B ]| "I have hitherto been very 103:025,26[B ]| remiss, madam, in the proper attentions of a partner 103:025,27[B ]| here; I have not yet asked you how long you have been 103:025,28[B ]| in Bath; whether you were ever here before; whether 103:025,29[B ]| you have been at the Upper*Rooms, the theatre, and the 103:025,30[B ]| concert; and how you like the place altogether. I have 103:025,31[B ]| been very negligent ~~ but are you now at leisure to satisfy 103:025,32[B ]| me in these particulars? If you are I will begin directly." 103:025,33[A ]| "You need not give yourself that trouble, sir." 103:026,01[B ]| "No trouble I assure you, madam." 103:026,01[' ]| Then forming his 103:026,02[' ]| features into a set smile, and affectedly softening his 103:026,03[' ]| voice, he added, with a simpering air, 103:026,03[B ]| "Have you been 103:026,04[B ]| long in Bath, madam?" 103:026,05[A ]| "About a week, sir," 103:026,05[' ]| replied Catherine, trying not to 103:026,06[' ]| laugh. 103:026,07[B ]| "Really!" 103:026,07[' ]| with affected astonishment. 103:026,08[A ]| "Why should you be surprized, sir?" 103:026,09[B ]| "Why, indeed!" 103:026,09[' ]| said he, in his natural tone ~~ 103:026,09[B ]| "but 103:026,10[B ]| some emotion must appear to be raised by your reply, 103:026,11[B ]| and surprize is more easily assumed, and not less reasonable 103:026,12[B ]| than any other. ~~ Now let us go on. Were you never 103:026,13[B ]| here before, madam?" 103:026,14[A ]| "Never, sir." 103:026,15[B ]| "Indeed! Have you yet honoured the Upper*Rooms?" 103:026,16[A ]| "Yes, sir, I was there last Monday." 103:026,17[B ]| "Have you been to the theatre?" 103:026,18[A ]| "Yes, sir, I was at the play on Tuesday." 103:026,19[B ]| "To the concert?" 103:026,20[A ]| "Yes, sir, on Wednesday." 103:026,21[B ]| "And are you altogether pleased with Bath?" 103:026,22[A ]| "Yes ~~ I like it very well." 103:026,23[B ]| "Now I must give one smirk, and then we may be 103:026,24[B ]| rational again." 103:026,25[' ]| Catherine turned away her head, not knowing whether 103:026,26[' ]| she might venture to laugh. 103:026,27[B ]| "I see what you think of me," 103:026,27[' ]| said he gravely ~~ 103:026,27[B ]| "I 103:026,28[B ]| shall make but a poor figure in your journal to-morrow." 103:026,29[A ]| "My journal!" 103:026,30[B ]| "Yes, I know exactly what you will say: Friday, 103:026,31[B ]| went to the Lower*Rooms; wore my sprigged muslin 103:026,32[B ]| robe with blue trimmings ~~ plain black shoes ~~ appeared 103:026,33[B ]| to much advantage; but was strangely harassed by 103:026,34[B ]| a queer, half-witted man, who would make me dance 103:026,35[B ]| with him, and distressed me by his nonsense." 103:026,36[A ]| "Indeed I shall say no such thing." 103:026,37[B ]| "Shall I tell you what you ought to say?" 103:026,38[A ]| "If you please." 103:027,01[B ]| "I danced with a very agreeable young man, introduced 103:027,02[B ]| by Mr%*King; had a great deal of conversation 103:027,03[B ]| with him ~~ seems a most extraordinary genius ~~ hope 103:027,04[B ]| I may know more of him. \That\, madam, is what I \wish\ 103:027,05[B ]| you to say." 103:027,06[A ]| "But, perhaps, I keep no journal." 103:027,07[B ]| "Perhaps you are not sitting in this room, and I am 103:027,08[B ]| not sitting by you. These are points in which a doubt is 103:027,09[B ]| equally possible. Not keep a journal! How are your 103:027,10[B ]| absent cousins to understand the tenour of your life in 103:027,11[B ]| Bath without one? How are the civilities and compliments 103:027,12[B ]| of every day to be related as they ought to be, 103:027,13[B ]| unless noted down every evening in a journal? How are 103:027,14[B ]| your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular 103:027,15[B ]| state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be 103:027,16[B ]| described in all their diversities, without having constant 103:027,17[B ]| recourse to a journal? ~~ My dear madam, I am not so 103:027,18[B ]| ignorant of young ladies' ways as you wish to believe me; 103:027,19[B ]| it is this delightful habit of journalizing which largely 103:027,20[B ]| contributes to form the easy style of writing for which 103:027,21[B ]| ladies are so generally celebrated. Every*body allows 103:027,22[B ]| that the talent of writing agreeable letters is peculiarly 103:027,23[B ]| female. Nature may have done something, but I am sure 103:027,24[B ]| it must be essentially assisted by the practice of keeping 103:027,25[B ]| a journal." 103:027,26[A ]| "I have sometimes thought," 103:027,26[' ]| said Catherine, doubtingly, 103:027,27[A ]| "whether ladies do write so much better letters 103:027,28[A ]| than gentlemen! That is ~~ I should not think the 103:027,29[A ]| superiority was always on our side." 103:027,30[B ]| "As far as I have had opportunity of judging, it appears 103:027,31[B ]| to me that the usual style of letter-writing among women 103:027,32[B ]| is faultless, except in three particulars." 103:027,33[A ]| "And what are they?" 103:027,34[B ]| "A general deficiency of subject, a total inattention to 103:027,35[B ]| stops, and a very frequent ignorance of grammar." 103:027,36[A ]| "Upon my word! I need not have been afraid of disclaiming 103:027,37[A ]| the compliment. You do not think too highly 103:027,38[A ]| of us in that way." 103:028,01[B ]| "I should no more lay it down as a general rule that 103:028,02[B ]| women write better letters than men, than that they sing 103:028,03[B ]| better duets, or draw better landscapes. In every power, 103:028,04[B ]| of which taste is the foundation, excellence is pretty fairly 103:028,05[B ]| divided between the sexes." 103:028,06[' ]| They were interrupted by Mrs%*Allen: ~~ 103:028,06[I ]| "My dear 103:028,07[I ]| Catherine," 103:028,07[' ]| said she, 103:028,07[I ]| "do take this pin out of my sleeve; 103:028,08[I ]| I am afraid it has torn a hole already; I shall be quite 103:028,09[I ]| sorry if it has, for this is a favourite gown, though it cost 103:028,10[I ]| but nine shillings a yard." 103:028,11[B ]| "That is exactly what I should have guessed it, 103:028,12[B ]| madam," 103:028,12[' ]| said Mr%*Tilney, looking at the muslin. 103:028,13[I ]| "Do you understand muslins, sir?" 103:028,14[B ]| "Particularly well; I always buy my own cravats, 103:028,15[B ]| and am allowed to be an excellent judge; and my sister 103:028,16[B ]| has often trusted me in the choice of a gown. I bought 103:028,17[B ]| one for her the other day, and it was pronounced to be 103:028,18[B ]| a prodigious bargain by every lady who saw it. I gave 103:028,19[B ]| but five shillings a yard for it, and a true Indian muslin." 103:028,20[' ]| Mrs%*Allen was quite struck by his genius. 103:028,20[I ]| "Men 103:028,21[I ]| commonly take so little notice of those things," 103:028,21[' ]| said she: 103:028,22[I ]| "I can never get Mr%*Allen to know one of my gowns 103:028,23[I ]| from another. You must be a great comfort to your 103:028,24[I ]| sister, sir." 103:028,25[B ]| "I hope I am, madam." 103:028,26[I ]| "And pray, sir, what do you think of Miss*Morland's 103:028,27[I ]| gown?" 103:028,28[B ]| "It is very pretty, madam," 103:028,28[' ]| said he, gravely examining 103:028,29[' ]| it; 103:028,29[B ]| "but I do not think it will wash well; I am afraid 103:028,30[B ]| it will fray." 103:028,31[A ]| "How can you," 103:028,31[' ]| said Catherine, laughing, 103:028,31[A ]| "be so ~~" 103:028,32[' ]| she had almost said, strange. 103:028,33[I ]| "I am quite of your opinion, sir," 103:028,33[' ]| replied Mrs%*Allen; 103:028,34[I ]| "and so I told Miss*Morland when she bought it." 103:028,35[B ]| "But then you know, madam, muslin always turns to 103:028,36[B ]| some account or other; Miss*Morland will get enough 103:028,37[B ]| out of it for a handkerchief, or a cap, or a cloak. ~~ Muslin 103:028,38[B ]| can never be said to be wasted. I have heard my sister 103:029,01[B ]| say so forty times, when she has been extravagant in 103:029,02[B ]| buying more than she wanted, or careless in cutting it to 103:029,03[B ]| pieces." 103:029,04[I ]| "Bath is a charming place, sir; there are so many 103:029,05[I ]| good shops here. ~~ We are sadly off in the country; not 103:029,06[I ]| but what we have very good shops in Salisbury, but it is 103:029,07[I ]| so far to go; ~~ eight miles is a long way; Mr%*Allen says 103:029,08[I ]| it is nine, measured nine; but I am sure it cannot be 103:029,09[I ]| more than eight; and it is such a fag ~~ I come back tired 103:029,10[I ]| to death. Now here one can step out of doors and get 103:029,11[I ]| a thing in five minutes." 103:029,12[' ]| Mr%*Tilney was polite enough to seem interested in 103:029,13[' ]| what she said; and she kept him on the subject of muslins 103:029,14[' ]| till the dancing recommenced. Catherine feared, as she 103:029,15[' ]| listened to their discourse, that he indulged himself 103:029,16[' ]| a little too much with the foibles of others. ~~ 103:029,16[B ]| "What are 103:029,17[B ]| you thinking of so earnestly?" 103:029,17[' ]| said he, as they walked 103:029,18[' ]| back to the ball-room; ~~ 103:029,18[B ]| "not of your partner, I hope, 103:029,19[B ]| for, by that shake of the head, your meditations are not 103:029,20[B ]| satisfactory." 103:029,21[' ]| Catherine coloured, and said, 103:029,21[A ]| "I was not thinking of 103:029,22[A ]| any*thing." 103:029,23[B ]| "That is artful and deep, to be sure; but I had rather 103:029,24[B ]| be told at once that you will not tell me." 103:029,25[A ]| "Well then, I will not." 103:029,26[B ]| "Thank you; for now we shall soon be acquainted, as 103:029,27[B ]| I am authorized to tease you on this subject whenever 103:029,28[B ]| we meet, and nothing in the world advances intimacy so 103:029,29[B ]| much." 103:029,30[' ]| They danced again; and, when the assembly closed, 103:029,31[' ]| parted, on the lady's side at least, with a strong inclination 103:029,32[' ]| for continuing the acquaintance. Whether she 103:029,33[' ]| thought of him so much, while she drank her warm wine 103:029,34[' ]| and water, and prepared herself for bed, as to dream of 103:029,35[' ]| him when there, cannot be ascertained; but I hope it 103:029,36[' ]| was no more than in a slight slumber, or a morning doze 103:029,37[' ]| at most; for if it be true, as a celebrated writer has 103:029,38[' ]| maintained, that no young lady can be justified in falling 103:030,01[' ]| in love before the gentleman's love is declared, it must 103:030,02[' ]| be very improper that a young lady should dream of 103:030,03[' ]| a gentleman before the gentleman is first known to have 103:030,04[' ]| dreamt of her. How proper Mr%*Tilney might be as 103:030,05[' ]| a dreamer or a lover, had not yet perhaps entered Mr%*Allen's 103:030,06[' ]| head, but that he was not objectionable as a 103:030,07[' ]| common acquaintance for his young charge he was on 103:030,08[' ]| inquiry satisfied; for he had early in the evening taken 103:030,09[' ]| pains to know who her partner was, and had been assured 103:030,10[' ]| of Mr%*Tilney's being a clergyman, and of a very respectable 103:030,11[' ]| family in Gloucestershire. 104:031,01[' ]| With more than usual eagerness did Catherine hasten 104:031,02[' ]| to the Pump-room the next day, secure within herself of 104:031,03[' ]| seeing Mr%*Tilney there before the morning were over, 104:031,04[' ]| and ready to meet him with a smile: ~~ but no smile was 104:031,05[' ]| demanded ~~ Mr%*Tilney did not appear. Every creature 104:031,06[' ]| in Bath, except himself, was to be seen in the room at 104:031,07[' ]| different periods of the fashionable hours; crowds of 104:031,08[' ]| people were every moment passing in and out, up the 104:031,09[' ]| steps and down; people whom nobody cared about, and 104:031,10[' ]| nobody wanted to see; and he only was absent. 104:031,10[I ]| "What 104:031,11[I ]| a delightful place Bath is," 104:031,11[' ]| said Mrs%*Allen, as they sat 104:031,12[' ]| down near the great clock, after parading the room till 104:031,13[' ]| they were tired; 104:031,13[I ]| "and how pleasant it would be if we 104:031,14[I ]| had any acquaintance here." 104:031,15[' ]| This sentiment had been uttered so often in vain, that 104:031,16[' ]| Mrs%*Allen had no particular reason to hope it would be 104:031,17[' ]| followed with more advantage now; but we are told to 104:031,18@z | "despair of nothing we would attain," 104:031,18[' ]| as 104:031,18@z | "unwearied 104:031,19@z | diligence our point would gain;" 104:031,19[' ]| and the unwearied 104:031,20[' ]| diligence with which she had every day wished for the 104:031,21[' ]| same thing was at length to have its just reward, for 104:031,22[' ]| hardly had she been seated ten minutes before a lady of 104:031,23[' ]| about her own age, who was sitting by her, and had been 104:031,24[' ]| looking at her attentively for several minutes, addressed 104:031,25[' ]| her with great complaisance in these words; ~~ 104:031,25[N ]| "I think, 104:031,26[N ]| madam, I cannot be mistaken; it is a long time since 104:031,27[N ]| I had the pleasure of seeing you, but is not your name 104:031,28[N ]| Allen?" 104:031,28[' ]| This question answered, as it readily was, the 104:031,29[' ]| stranger pronounced her's to be Thorpe; and Mrs%*Allen 104:031,30[' ]| immediately recognized the features of a former school-fellow 104:031,31[' ]| and intimate, whom she had seen only once since 104:031,32[' ]| their respective marriages, and that many years ago. 104:031,33[' ]| Their joy on this meeting was very great, as well it might, 104:032,01[' ]| since they had been contented to know nothing of each 104:032,02[' ]| other for the last fifteen years. Compliments on good 104:032,03[' ]| looks now passed; and, after observing how time had 104:032,04[' ]| slipped away since they were last together, how little they 104:032,05[' ]| had thought of meeting in Bath, and what a pleasure it 104:032,06[' ]| was to see an old friend, they proceeded to make inquiries 104:032,07[' ]| and give intelligence as to their families, sisters, and 104:032,08[' ]| cousins, talking both together, far more ready to give 104:032,09[' ]| than to receive information, and each hearing very little 104:032,10[' ]| of what the other said. Mrs%*Thorpe, however, had one 104:032,11[' ]| great advantage as a talker, over Mrs%*Allen, in a family 104:032,12[' ]| of children; and when she expatiated on the talents of 104:032,13[' ]| her sons, and the beauty of her daughters, ~~ when she 104:032,14[' ]| related their different situations and views, ~~ that John 104:032,15[' ]| was at Oxford, Edward at Merchant-Taylors', and William 104:032,16[' ]| at sea, ~~ and all of them more beloved and respected in 104:032,17[' ]| their different stations than any other three beings ever 104:032,18[' ]| were, Mrs%*Allen had no similar information to give, no 104:032,19[' ]| similar triumphs to press on the unwilling and unbelieving 104:032,20[' ]| ear of her friend, and was forced to sit and appear to 104:032,21[' ]| listen to all these maternal effusions, consoling herself, 104:032,22[' ]| however, with the discovery, which her keen eye soon 104:032,23[' ]| made, that the lace on Mrs%*Thorpe's pelisse was not half 104:032,24[' ]| so handsome as that on her own. 104:032,25[N ]| "Here come my dear girls," 104:032,25[' ]| cried Mrs%*Thorpe, pointing 104:032,26[' ]| at three smart*looking females, who, arm in arm, were 104:032,27[' ]| then moving towards her. 104:032,27[N ]| "My dear Mrs%*Allen, I long 104:032,28[N ]| to introduce them; they will be so delighted to see you: 104:032,29[N ]| the tallest is Isabella, my eldest; is not she a fine young 104:032,30[N ]| woman? The others are very much admired too, but 104:032,31[N ]| I believe Isabella is the handsomest." 104:032,32[' ]| The Miss*Thorpes were introduced; and Miss*Morland, 104:032,33[' ]| who had been for a short time forgotten, was introduced 104:032,34[' ]| likewise. The name seemed to strike them all; and, 104:032,35[' ]| after speaking to her with great civility, the eldest young 104:032,36[' ]| lady observed aloud to the rest, 104:032,36[D ]| "How excessively like 104:032,37[D ]| her brother Miss*Morland is!" 104:032,38[N ]| "The very picture of him indeed!" 104:032,38[' ]| cried the mother ~~ 104:033,01[' ]| and 104:033,01[Y ]| "I should have known her any*where for his 104:033,02[Y ]| sister!" 104:033,02[' ]| was repeated by them all, two or three times 104:033,03[' ]| over. For a moment Catherine was surprized; but Mrs%*Thorpe 104:033,04[' ]| and her daughters had scarcely begun the history 104:033,05[' ]| of their acquaintance with Mr%*James*Morland, before 104:033,06[' ]| she remembered that her eldest brother had lately formed 104:033,07[' ]| an intimacy with a young man of his own college, of the 104:033,08[' ]| name of Thorpe; and that he had spent the last week of 104:033,09[' ]| the Christmas vacation with his family, near London. 104:033,10[' ]| The whole being explained, many obliging things were 104:033,11[' ]| said by the Miss*Thorpes of their wish of being better 104:033,12[' ]| acquainted with her; of being considered as already 104:033,13[' ]| friends, through the friendship of their brothers, &c% 104:033,14[' ]| which Catherine heard with pleasure, and answered with 104:033,15[' ]| all the pretty expressions she could command; and, as 104:033,16[' ]| the first proof of amity, she was soon invited to accept 104:033,17[' ]| an arm of the eldest Miss*Thorpe, and take a turn with 104:033,18[' ]| her about the room. Catherine was delighted with this 104:033,19[' ]| extension of her Bath acquaintance, and almost forgot 104:033,20[' ]| Mr%*Tilney while she talked to Miss*Thorpe. Friendship 104:033,21[' ]| is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed 104:033,22[' ]| love. 104:033,23[' ]| Their conversation turned upon those subjects, of 104:033,24[' ]| which the free discussion has generally much to do in 104:033,25[' ]| perfecting a sudden intimacy between two young ladies; 104:033,26[' ]| such as dress, balls, flirtations, and quizzes. Miss*Thorpe, 104:033,27[' ]| however, being four years older than Miss*Morland, and 104:033,28[' ]| at least four years better informed, had a very decided 104:033,29[' ]| advantage in discussing such points; she could compare 104:033,30[' ]| the balls of Bath with those of Tunbridge; its fashions 104:033,31[' ]| with the fashions of London; could rectify the opinions 104:033,32[' ]| of her new friend in many articles of tasteful attire; 104:033,33[' ]| could discover a flirtation between any gentleman and 104:033,34[' ]| lady who only smiled on each other; and point out 104:033,35[' ]| a quiz through the thickness of a crowd. These powers 104:033,36[' ]| received due admiration from Catherine, to whom they 104:033,37[' ]| were entirely new; and the respect which they naturally 104:033,38[' ]| inspired might have been too great for familiarity, had 104:034,01[' ]| not the easy gaiety of Miss*Thorpe's manners, and her 104:034,02[' ]| frequent expressions of delight on this acquaintance with 104:034,03[' ]| her, softened down every feeling of awe, and left nothing 104:034,04[' ]| but tender affection. Their increasing attachment was 104:034,05[' ]| not to be satisfied with half a dozen turns in the Pump-room, 104:034,06[' ]| but required, when they all quitted it together, 104:034,07[' ]| that Miss*Thorpe should accompany Miss*Morland to the 104:034,08[' ]| very door of Mr%*Allen's house; and that they should 104:034,09[' ]| there part with a most affectionate and lengthened shake 104:034,10[' ]| of hands, after learning, to their mutual relief, that they 104:034,11[' ]| should see each other across the theatre at night, and say 104:034,12[' ]| their prayers in the same chapel the next morning. 104:034,13[' ]| Catherine then ran directly up*stairs, and watched Miss*Thorpe's 104:034,14[' ]| progress down the street from the drawing-room 104:034,15[' ]| window; admired the graceful spirit of her walk, the 104:034,16[' ]| fashionable air of her figure and dress, and felt grateful, 104:034,17[' ]| as well she might, for the chance which had procured 104:034,18[' ]| her such a friend. 104:034,19[' ]| Mrs%*Thorpe was a widow, and not a very rich one; she 104:034,20[' ]| was a good-humoured, well-meaning woman, and a very 104:034,21[' ]| indulgent mother. Her eldest daughter had great personal 104:034,22[' ]| beauty, and the younger ones, by pretending to be as 104:034,23[' ]| handsome as their sister, imitating her air, and dressing 104:034,24[' ]| in the same style, did very well. 104:034,25[' ]| This brief account of the family is intended to supersede 104:034,26[' ]| the necessity of a long and minute detail from Mrs%*Thorpe 104:034,27[' ]| herself, of her past adventures and sufferings, which might 104:034,28[' ]| otherwise be expected to occupy the three or four following 104:034,29[' ]| chapters; in which the worthlessness of lords and 104:034,30[' ]| attornies might be set forth, and conversations, which 104:034,31[' ]| had passed twenty years before, be minutely repeated. 105:035,01[' ]| Catherine was not so much engaged at the theatre 105:035,02[' ]| that evening, in returning the nods and smiles of Miss*Thorpe, 105:035,03[' ]| though they certainly claimed much of her 105:035,04[' ]| leisure, as to forget to look with an inquiring eye for Mr%*Tilney 105:035,05[' ]| in every box which her eye could reach; but she 105:035,06[' ]| looked in vain. Mr%*Tilney was no fonder of the play 105:035,07[' ]| than the Pump-room. She hoped to be more fortunate 105:035,08[' ]| the next day; and when her wishes for fine weather were 105:035,09[' ]| answered by seeing a beautiful morning, she hardly felt 105:035,10[' ]| a doubt of it; for a fine Sunday in Bath empties every 105:035,11[' ]| house of its inhabitants, and all the world appears on such 105:035,12[' ]| an occasion to walk about and tell their acquaintance 105:035,13[' ]| what a charming day it is. 105:035,14[' ]| As soon as divine service was over, the Thorpes and 105:035,15[' ]| Allens eagerly joined each other; and after staying long 105:035,16[' ]| enough in the Pump-room to discover that the crowd was 105:035,17[' ]| insupportable, and that there was not a genteel face to 105:035,18[' ]| be seen, which every*body discovers every Sunday 105:035,19[' ]| throughout the season, they hastened away to the Crescent, 105:035,20[' ]| to breathe the fresh air of better company. Here Catherine 105:035,21[' ]| and Isabella, arm in arm, again tasted the sweets of 105:035,22[' ]| friendship in an unreserved conversation; ~~ they talked 105:035,23[' ]| much, and with much enjoyment; but again was Catherine 105:035,24[' ]| disappointed in her hope of re-seeing her partner. He was 105:035,25[' ]| no*where to be met with; every search for him was 105:035,26[' ]| equally unsuccessful, in morning lounges or evening assemblies; 105:035,27[' ]| neither at the upper nor lower rooms, at dressed 105:035,28[' ]| or undressed balls, was he perceivable; nor among the 105:035,29[' ]| walkers, the horsemen, or the curricle-drivers of the 105:035,30[' ]| morning. His name was not in the Pump-room book, 105:035,31[' ]| and curiosity could do no more. 105:035,31@a | He must be gone from 105:035,32@a | Bath. Yet he had not mentioned that his stay would be 105:035,33@a | so short! 105:035,33[' ]| This sort of mysteriousness, which is always 105:036,01[' ]| so becoming in a hero, threw a fresh grace in Catherine's 105:036,02[' ]| imagination around his person and manners, and increased 105:036,03[' ]| her anxiety to know more of him. From the Thorpes 105:036,04[' ]| she could learn nothing, for they had been only two days 105:036,05[' ]| in Bath before they met with Mrs%*Allen. It was a subject, 105:036,06[' ]| however, in which she often indulged with her fair friend, 105:036,07[' ]| from whom she received every possible encouragement to 105:036,08[' ]| continue to think of him; and his impression on her fancy 105:036,09[' ]| was not suffered therefore to weaken. Isabella was 105:036,09@d | very 105:036,10@d | sure that he must be a charming young man; and was 105:036,11@d | equally sure that he must have been delighted with her 105:036,12@d | dear Catherine, and would therefore shortly return. She 105:036,13@d | liked him the better for being a clergyman, 105:036,13[D ]| "for she must 105:036,14[D ]| confess herself very partial to the profession;" 105:036,14[' ]| and some*thing 105:036,15[' ]| like a sigh escaped her as she said it. Perhaps 105:036,16[' ]| Catherine was wrong in not demanding the cause of that 105:036,17[' ]| gentle emotion ~~ but she was not experienced enough in 105:036,18[' ]| the finesse of love, or the duties of friendship, to know 105:036,19[' ]| when delicate raillery was properly called for, or when 105:036,20[' ]| a confidence should be forced. 105:036,21[' ]| Mrs%*Allen was now quite happy ~~ quite satisfied with 105:036,22[' ]| Bath. She had found some acquaintance, and been so 105:036,23[' ]| lucky too as to find in them the family of a most worthy 105:036,24[' ]| old friend; and, as the completion of good fortune, had 105:036,25[' ]| found these friends by no means so expensively dressed 105:036,26[' ]| as herself. Her daily expressions were no longer, 105:036,26[I ]| "I wish 105:036,27[I ]| we had some acquaintance in Bath!" 105:036,27[' ]| They were changed 105:036,28[' ]| into ~~ 105:036,28[I ]| "How glad I am we have met with Mrs%*Thorpe!" 105:036,29[' ]| ~~ and she was as eager in promoting the intercourse of 105:036,30[' ]| the two families, as her young charge and Isabella themselves 105:036,31[' ]| could be; never satisfied with the day unless she 105:036,32[' ]| spent the chief of it by the side of Mrs%*Thorpe, in what 105:036,33[' ]| they called conversation, but in which there was scarcely 105:036,34[' ]| ever any exchange of opinion, and not often any resemblance 105:036,35[' ]| of subject, for Mrs%*Thorpe talked chiefly of her 105:036,36[' ]| children, and Mrs%*Allen of her gowns. 105:036,37[' ]| The progress of the friendship between Catherine and 105:036,38[' ]| Isabella was quick as its beginning had been warm, and 105:037,01[' ]| they passed so rapidly through every gradation of increasing 105:037,02[' ]| tenderness, that there was shortly no fresh proof of 105:037,03[' ]| it to be given to their friends or themselves. They called 105:037,04[' ]| each other by their Christian name, were always arm in 105:037,05[' ]| arm when they walked, pinned up each other's train for 105:037,06[' ]| the dance, and were not to be divided in the set; and if 105:037,07[' ]| a rainy morning deprived them of other enjoyments, they 105:037,08[' ]| were still resolute in meeting in defiance of wet and dirt, 105:037,09[' ]| and shut themselves up, to read novels together. Yes, 105:037,10[' ]| novels; ~~ for I will not adopt that ungenerous and 105:037,11[' ]| impolitic custom so common with novel writers, of 105:037,12[' ]| degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, 105:037,13[' ]| to the number of which they are themselves 105:037,14[' ]| adding ~~ joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing 105:037,15[' ]| the harshest epithets on such works, and scarcely ever 105:037,16[' ]| permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if 105:037,17[' ]| she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its 105:037,18[' ]| insipid pages with disgust. Alas! if the heroine of one 105:037,19[' ]| novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from 105:037,20[' ]| whom can she expect protection and regard? I cannot 105:037,21[' ]| approve of it. Let us leave it to the Reviewers to abuse 105:037,22[' ]| such effusions of fancy at their leisure, and over every 105:037,23[' ]| new novel to talk in threadbare strains of the trash with 105:037,24[' ]| which the press now groans. Let us not desert one another; 105:037,25[' ]| we are an injured body. Although our productions have 105:037,26[' ]| afforded more extensive and unaffected pleasure than 105:037,27[' ]| those of any other literary corporation in the world, no 105:037,28[' ]| species of composition has been so much decried. From 105:037,29[' ]| pride, ignorance, or fashion, our foes are almost as many 105:037,30[' ]| as our readers. And while the abilities of the nine-hundredth 105:037,31[' ]| abridger of the History*of*England, or of the 105:037,32[' ]| man who collects and publishes in a volume some dozen 105:037,33[' ]| lines of Milton, Pope, and Prior, with a paper from the 105:037,34[' ]| Spectator, and a chapter from Sterne, are eulogized by 105:037,35[' ]| a thousand pens, ~~ there seems almost a general wish of 105:037,36[' ]| decrying the capacity and undervaluing the labour of the 105:037,37[' ]| novelist, and of slighting the performances which have 105:037,38[' ]| only genius, wit, and taste to recommend them. 105:037,38@x | "I am 105:038,01@x | no novel reader ~~ I seldom look into novels ~~ Do not imagine 105:038,02@x | that \I\ often read novels ~~ It is really very well for a novel." 105:038,03[' ]| ~~ Such is the common cant. ~~ 105:038,03@x | "And what are you reading, 105:038,04@x | Miss*****?" "Oh! it is only a novel!" 105:038,04[' ]| replies the 105:038,05[' ]| young lady; while she lays down her book with affected 105:038,06[' ]| indifference or momentary shame. ~~ 105:038,06@x | "It is only Cecilia, 105:038,07@x | or Camilla, or Belinda;" 105:038,07[' ]| or, in short, only some work 105:038,08[' ]| in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, 105:038,09[' ]| in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, 105:038,10[' ]| the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest 105:038,11[' ]| effusions of wit and humour are conveyed to the world in 105:038,12[' ]| the best chosen language. Now, had the same young 105:038,13[' ]| lady been engaged with a volume of the Spectator, 105:038,14[' ]| instead of such a work, how proudly would she have produced 105:038,15[' ]| the book, and told its name; though the chances 105:038,16[' ]| must be against her being occupied by any part of that 105:038,17[' ]| voluminous publication, of which either the matter or 105:038,18[' ]| manner would not disgust a young person of taste: the 105:038,19[' ]| substance of its papers so often consisting in the statement 105:038,20[' ]| of improbable circumstances, unnatural characters, 105:038,21[' ]| and topics of conversation, which no longer concern any*one 105:038,22[' ]| living; and their language, too, frequently so coarse 105:038,23[' ]| as to give no very favourable idea of the age that could 105:038,24[' ]| endure it. 106:039,01[' ]| The following conversation, which took place between 106:039,02[' ]| the two friends in the Pump-room one morning, after an 106:039,03[' ]| acquaintance of eight or nine days, is given as a specimen 106:039,04[' ]| of their very warm attachment, and of the delicacy, discretion, 106:039,05[' ]| originality of thought, and literary taste which 106:039,06[' ]| marked the reasonableness of that attachment. 106:039,07[' ]| They met by appointment; and as Isabella had arrived 106:039,08[' ]| nearly five minutes before her friend, her first address 106:039,09[' ]| naturally was ~~ 106:039,09[D ]| "My dearest creature, what can have 106:039,10[D ]| made you so late? I have been waiting for you at least 106:039,11[D ]| this age!" 106:039,12[A ]| "Have you, indeed! ~~ I am very sorry for it; but 106:039,13[A ]| really I thought I was in very good time. It is but just 106:039,14[A ]| one. I hope you have not been here long?" 106:039,15[D ]| "Oh! these ten ages at least. I am sure I have been 106:039,16[D ]| here this half hour. But now, let us go and sit down at 106:039,17[D ]| the other end of the room, and enjoy ourselves. I have 106:039,18[D ]| an hundred things to say to you. In the first place, I was 106:039,19[D ]| so afraid it would rain this morning, just as I wanted to 106:039,20[D ]| set off; it looked very showery, and that would have 106:039,21[D ]| thrown me into agonies! Do you know, I saw the prettiest 106:039,22[D ]| hat you can imagine, in a shop window in Milsom-street 106:039,23[D ]| just now ~~ very like yours, only with coquelicot ribbons 106:039,24[D ]| instead of green; I quite longed for it. But, my dearest 106:039,25[D ]| Catherine, what have you been doing with yourself all 106:039,26[D ]| this morning? ~~ Have you gone on with Udolpho?" 106:039,27[A ]| "Yes, I have been reading it ever since I woke; and 106:039,28[A ]| I am got to the black veil." 106:039,29[A ]| "Are you, indeed? How delightful! Oh! I would 106:039,30[A ]| not tell you what is behind the black veil for the world! 106:039,31[A ]| Are not you wild to know?" 106:039,32[A ]| "Oh! yes, quite; what can it be? ~~ But do not tell 106:039,33[A ]| me ~~ I would not be told upon any account. I know it 106:040,01[A ]| must be a skeleton, I am sure it is Laurentina's skeleton. 106:040,02[A ]| Oh! I am delighted with the book! I should like to 106:040,03[A ]| spend my whole life in reading it. I assure you, if it had 106:040,04[A ]| not been to meet you, I would not have come away from 106:040,05[A ]| it for all the world." 106:040,06[D ]| "Dear creature! how much I am obliged to you; 106:040,07[D ]| and when you have finished Udolpho we will read the*Italian 106:040,08[D ]| together; and I have made out a list of ten or 106:040,09[D ]| twelve more of the same kind for you." 106:040,10[A ]| "Have you, indeed! How glad I am! ~~ What are 106:040,11[A ]| they all?" 106:040,12[D ]| "I will read you their names directly; here they are, 106:040,13[D ]| in my pocket-book. Castle*of*Wolfenbach, Clermont, 106:040,14[D ]| Mysterious*Warnings, Necromancer*of*the*Black*Forest, 106:040,15[D ]| Midnight*Bell, Orphan*of*the*Rhine, and Horrid*Mysteries. 106:040,16[D ]| Those will last us some time." 106:040,17[A ]| "Yes, pretty well; but are they all horrid, are you 106:040,18[A ]| sure they are all horrid?" 106:040,19[D ]| "Yes, quite sure; for a particular friend of mine, 106:040,20[D ]| a Miss*Andrews, a sweet girl, one of the sweetest creatures 106:040,21[D ]| in the world, has read every one of them. I wish you 106:040,22[D ]| knew Miss*Andrews, you would be delighted with her. 106:040,23[D ]| She is netting herself the sweetest cloak you can conceive. 106:040,24[D ]| I think her as beautiful as an angel, and I am so vexed 106:040,25[D ]| with the men for not admiring her! ~~ I scold them all 106:040,26[D ]| amazingly about it!" 106:040,27[A ]| "Scold them! Do you scold them for not admiring 106:040,28[A ]| her?" 106:040,29[D ]| "Yes, that I do. There is nothing I would not do for 106:040,30[D ]| those who are really my friends. I have no notion of 106:040,31[D ]| loving people by halves, it is not my nature. My attachments 106:040,32[D ]| are always excessively strong. I told Capt%*Hunt 106:040,33[D ]| at one of our assemblies this winter, that if he was to 106:040,34[D ]| tease me all night, I would not dance with him, unless 106:040,35[D ]| he would allow Miss*Andrews to be as beautiful as an 106:040,36[D ]| angel. The men think us incapable of real friendship you 106:040,37[D ]| know, and I am determined to shew them the difference. 106:040,38[D ]| Now, if I were to hear any*body speak slightingly of you, 106:041,01[D ]| I should fire up in a moment: ~~ but that is not at all 106:041,02[D ]| likely, for \you\ are just the kind of girl to be a great 106:041,03[D ]| favourite with the men." 106:041,04[A ]| "Oh! dear," 106:041,04[' ]| cried Catherine, colouring, 106:041,04[A ]| "how can you 106:041,05[A ]| say so?" 106:041,06[D ]| "I know you very well; you have so much animation, 106:041,07[D ]| which is exactly what Miss*Andrews wants, for I must 106:041,08[D ]| confess there is something amazingly insipid about her. 106:041,09[D ]| Oh! I must tell you, that just after we parted yesterday, 106:041,10[D ]| I saw a young man looking at you so earnestly ~~ I am 106:041,11[D ]| sure he is in love with you." 106:041,11[' ]| Catherine coloured, and disclaimed 106:041,12[' ]| again. Isabella laughed. 106:041,12[D ]| "It is very true, upon 106:041,13[D ]| my honour, but I see how it is; you are indifferent to 106:041,14[D ]| every*body's admiration, except that of one gentleman, 106:041,15[D ]| who shall be nameless. Nay, I cannot blame you ~~ 106:041,16[' ]| (speaking more seriously) ~~ 106:041,16[D ]| your feelings are easily understood. 106:041,17[D ]| Where the heart is really attached, I know very 106:041,18[D ]| well how little one can be pleased with the attention of 106:041,19[D ]| any*body else. Every*thing is so insipid, so uninteresting, 106:041,20[D ]| that does not relate to the beloved object! I can perfectly 106:041,21[D ]| comprehend your feelings." 106:041,22[A ]| "But you should not persuade me that I think so very 106:041,23[A ]| much about Mr%*Tilney, for perhaps I may never see him 106:041,24[A ]| again." 106:041,25[D ]| "Not see him again! My dearest creature, do not talk of 106:041,26[D ]| it. I am sure you would be miserable if you thought so." 106:041,27[A ]| "No, indeed, I should not. I do not pretend to say 106:041,28[A ]| that I was not very much pleased with him; but while 106:041,29[A ]| I have Udolpho to read, I feel as if nobody could make 106:041,30[A ]| me miserable. Oh! the dreadful black veil! My dear 106:041,31[A ]| Isabella, I am sure there must be Laurentina's skeleton 106:041,32[A ]| behind it." 106:041,33[D ]| "It is so odd to me, that you should never have read 106:041,34[D ]| Udolpho before; but I suppose Mrs%*Morland objects to 106:041,35[D ]| novels." 106:041,36[A ]| "No, she does not. She very often reads Sir*Charles*Grandison 106:041,37[A ]| herself; but new books do not fall in our way." 106:041,38[D ]| "Sir*Charles*Grandison! That is an amazing horrid 106:042,01[D ]| book, is it not? ~~ I remember Miss*Andrews could not get 106:042,02[D ]| through the first volume." 106:042,03[A ]| "It is not like Udolpho at all; yet I think it is 106:042,04[A ]| very entertaining." 106:042,05[D ]| "Do you indeed! ~~ you surprize me; I thought it had 106:042,06[D ]| not been readable. But, my dearest Catherine, have you 106:042,07[D ]| settled what to wear on your head to-night? I am determined 106:042,08[D ]| at all events to be dressed exactly like you. The 106:042,09[D ]| men take notice of \that\ sometimes you know." 106:042,10[A ]| "But it does not signify if they do;" 106:042,10[' ]| said Catherine, 106:042,11[' ]| very innocently. 106:042,12[D ]| "Signify! Oh, heavens! I make it a rule never to 106:042,13[D ]| mind what they say. They are very often amazingly 106:042,14[D ]| impertinent if you do not treat them with spirit, and 106:042,15[D ]| make them keep their distance." 106:042,16[A ]| "Are they? ~~ Well, I never observed \that\. They 106:042,17[A ]| always behave very well to me." 106:042,18[D ]| "Oh! they give themselves such airs. They are the 106:042,19[D ]| most conceited creatures in the world, and think themselves 106:042,20[D ]| of so much importance! ~~ By*the*bye, though 106:042,21[D ]| I have thought of it a hundred times, I have always 106:042,22[D ]| forgot to ask you what is your favourite complexion in 106:042,23[D ]| a man. Do you like them best dark or fair?" 106:042,24[A ]| "I hardly know. I never much thought about it. 106:042,25[A ]| Something between both, I think. Brown ~~ not fair, and 106:042,26[A ]| not very dark." 106:042,27[D ]| "Very well, Catherine. That is exactly he. I have not 106:042,28[D ]| forgot your description of Mr%*Tilney; ~~ 106:042,28@a | ""a brown skin, 106:042,29@a | with dark eyes, and rather dark hair."" ~~ 106:042,29[D ]| "Well, my taste is 106:042,30[D ]| different. I prefer light eyes, and as to complexion ~~ do 106:042,31[D ]| you know ~~ I like a sallow better than any other. You 106:042,32[D ]| must not betray me, if you should ever meet with one of 106:042,33[D ]| your acquaintance answering that description." 106:042,34[A ]| "Betray you! ~~ What do you mean?" 106:042,35[D ]| "Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have said too 106:042,36[D ]| much. Let us drop the subject." 106:042,37[' ]| Catherine, in some amazement, complied; and after 106:042,38[' ]| remaining a few moments silent, was on the point of 106:043,01[' ]| reverting to what interested her at that time rather more 106:043,02[' ]| than any*thing else in the world, Laurentina's skeleton; 106:043,03[' ]| when her friend prevented her, by saying, ~~ 106:043,03[D ]| "For Heaven's 106:043,04[D ]| sake! let us move away from this end of the room. Do 106:043,05[D ]| you know, there are two odious young men who have 106:043,06[D ]| been staring at me this half hour. They really put me 106:043,07[D ]| quite out of countenance. Let us go and look at the 106:043,08[D ]| arrivals. They will hardly follow us there." 106:043,09[' ]| Away they walked to the book; and while Isabella 106:043,10[' ]| examined the names, it was Catherine's employment to 106:043,11[' ]| watch the proceedings of these alarming young men. 106:043,12[D ]| "They are not coming this way, are they? I hope they 106:043,13[D ]| are not so impertinent as to follow us. Pray let me know 106:043,14[D ]| if they are coming. I am determined I will not look up." 106:043,15[' ]| In a few moments Catherine, with unaffected pleasure, 106:043,16[' ]| assured her that she need not be longer uneasy, as the 106:043,17[' ]| gentlemen had just left the Pump-room. 106:043,18[D ]| "And which way are they gone?" 106:043,18[' ]| said Isabella, turning 106:043,19[' ]| hastily round. 106:043,19[D ]| "One was a very good-looking young man." 106:043,20[A ]| "They went towards the churchyard." 106:043,21[D ]| "Well, I am amazingly glad I have got rid of them! 106:043,22[D ]| And now, what say you to going to Edgar's*Buildings 106:043,23[D ]| with me, and looking at my new hat? You said you 106:043,24[D ]| should like to see it." 106:043,25[' ]| Catherine readily agreed. 106:043,25[A ]| "Only," 106:043,25[' ]| she added, 106:043,25[A ]| "perhaps 106:043,26[A ]| we may overtake the two young men." 106:043,27[D ]| "Oh! never mind that. If we make haste, we shall pass 106:043,28[D ]| by them presently, and I am dying to shew you my hat." 106:043,29[A ]| "But if we only wait a few minutes, there will be no 106:043,30[A ]| danger of our seeing them at all." 106:043,31[D ]| "I shall not pay them any such compliment, I assure 106:043,32[D ]| you. I have no notion of treating men with such respect. 106:043,33[D ]| \That\ is the way to spoil them." 106:043,34[' ]| Catherine had nothing to oppose against such reasoning; 106:043,35[' ]| and therefore, to shew the independence of Miss*Thorpe, 106:043,36[' ]| and her resolution of humbling the sex, they set 106:043,37[' ]| off immediately as fast as they could walk, in pursuit of 106:043,38[' ]| the two young men. 107:044,01[' ]| Half a minute conducted them through the Pump-yard 107:044,02[' ]| to the archway, opposite Union-passage; but here 107:044,03[' ]| they were stopped. Every*body acquainted with Bath 107:044,04[' ]| may remember the difficulties of crossing Cheap-street at 107:044,05[' ]| this point; it is indeed a street of so impertinent a nature, 107:044,06[' ]| so unfortunately connected with the great London and 107:044,07[' ]| Oxford roads, and the principal inn of the city, that a day 107:044,08[' ]| never passes in which parties of ladies, however important 107:044,09[' ]| their business, whether in quest of pastry, millinery, or 107:044,10[' ]| even (as in the present case) of young men, are not 107:044,11[' ]| detained on one side or other by carriages, horsemen, or 107:044,12[' ]| carts. This evil had been felt and lamented, at least 107:044,13[' ]| three times a day, by Isabella since her residence in 107:044,14[' ]| Bath; and she was now fated to feel and lament it once 107:044,15[' ]| more, for at the very moment of coming opposite to 107:044,16[' ]| Union-passage, and within view of the two gentlemen 107:044,17[' ]| who were proceeding through the crowds, and threading 107:044,18[' ]| the gutters of that interesting alley, they were prevented 107:044,19[' ]| crossing by the approach of a gig, driven along on bad 107:044,20[' ]| pavement by a most knowing-looking coachman with all 107:044,21[' ]| the vehemence that could most fitly endanger the lives 107:044,22[' ]| of himself, his companion, and his horse. 107:044,23[D ]| "Oh, these odious gigs!" 107:044,23[' ]| said Isabella, looking up, 107:044,24[D ]| "how I detest them." 107:044,24[' ]| But this detestation, though so 107:044,25[' ]| just, was of short duration, for she looked again and 107:044,26[' ]| exclaimed, 107:044,26[D ]| "Delightful! Mr%*Morland and my brother!" 107:044,27[A ]| "Good heaven! 'tis James!" 107:044,27[' ]| was uttered at the same 107:044,28[' ]| moment by Catherine; and, on catching the young men's 107:044,29[' ]| eyes, the horse was immediately checked with a violence 107:044,30[' ]| which almost threw him on his haunches, and the servant 107:044,31[' ]| having now scampered up, the gentlemen jumped out, 107:044,32[' ]| and the equipage was delivered to his care. 107:044,33[' ]| Catherine, by whom this meeting was wholly unexpected, 107:045,01[' ]| received her brother with the liveliest pleasure; and he, 107:045,02[' ]| being of a very amiable disposition, and sincerely attached 107:045,03[' ]| to her, gave every proof on his side of equal satisfaction, 107:045,04[' ]| which he could have leisure to do, while the bright eyes 107:045,05[' ]| of Miss*Thorpe were incessantly challenging his notice; 107:045,06[' ]| and to her his devoirs were speedily paid, with a mixture 107:045,07[' ]| of joy and embarrassment which might have informed 107:045,08[' ]| Catherine, had she been more expert in the developement 107:045,09[' ]| of other people's feelings, and less simply engrossed by 107:045,10[' ]| her own, that her brother thought her friend quite as 107:045,11[' ]| pretty as she could do herself. 107:045,12[' ]| John*Thorpe who in the mean*time had been giving 107:045,13[' ]| orders about the horses, soon joined them, and from him 107:045,14[' ]| she directly received the amends which were her due; 107:045,15[' ]| for while he slightly and carelessly touched the hand of 107:045,16[' ]| Isabella, on her he bestowed a whole scrape and half 107:045,17[' ]| a short bow. He was a stout young man of middling 107:045,18[' ]| height, who, with a plain face and ungraceful form, 107:045,19[' ]| seemed fearful of being too handsome unless he wore the 107:045,20[' ]| dress of a groom, and too much like a gentleman unless 107:045,21[' ]| he were easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent 107:045,22[' ]| where he might be allowed to be easy. He took out his 107:045,23[' ]| watch: 107:045,23[E ]| "How long do you think we have been running 107:045,24[E ]| it from Tetbury, Miss*Morland?" 107:045,25[A ]| "I do not know the distance." 107:045,25[' ]| Her brother told her 107:045,26[' ]| that it was twenty-three miles. 107:045,27[E ]| "\Three\-and-twenty!" 107:045,27[' ]| cried Thorpe; 107:045,27[E ]| "five-and-twenty 107:045,28[E ]| if it is an inch." 107:045,28[' ]| Morland remonstrated, pleaded the 107:045,29[' ]| authority of road-books, innkeepers, and milestones; 107:045,30[' ]| but his friend disregarded them all; he had a surer test 107:045,31[' ]| of distance. 107:045,31[E ]| "I know it must be five-and-twenty," 107:045,31[' ]| said 107:045,32[' ]| he, 107:045,32[E ]| "by the time we have been doing it. It is now half 107:045,33[E ]| after one; we drove out of the inn-yard at Tetbury as 107:045,34[E ]| the town-clock struck eleven; and I defy any man in 107:045,35[E ]| England to make my horse go less than ten miles an hour 107:045,36[E ]| in harness; that makes it exactly twenty-five." 107:045,37[K ]| "You have lost an hour," 107:045,37[' ]| said Morland; 107:045,37[K ]| "it was only 107:045,38[K ]| ten o'clock when we came from Tetbury." 107:046,01[E ]| "Ten o'clock! it was eleven, upon my soul! I counted 107:046,02[E ]| every stroke. This brother of yours would persuade me 107:046,03[E ]| out of my senses, Miss*Morland; do but look at my 107:046,04[E ]| horse; did you ever see an animal so made for speed in 107:046,05[E ]| your life?" 107:046,05[' ]| (The servant had just mounted the carriage 107:046,06[' ]| and was driving off.) 107:046,06[E ]| "Such true blood! Three hours 107:046,07[E ]| and a half indeed coming only three-and-twenty miles! 107:046,08[E ]| look at that creature, and suppose it possible if you can." 107:046,09[A ]| "He \does\ look very hot to be sure." 107:046,10[E ]| "Hot! he had not turned a hair till we came to Walcot*Church: 107:046,11[E ]| but look at his forehand; look at his loins; 107:046,12[E ]| only see how he moves; that horse \cannot\ go less than 107:046,13[E ]| ten miles an hour: tie his legs and he will get on. What 107:046,14[E ]| do you think of my gig, Miss*Morland? A neat one, is 107:046,15[E ]| not it? Well hung; town built; I have not had it 107:046,16[E ]| a month. It was built for a Christchurch man, a friend 107:046,17[E ]| of mine, a very good sort of fellow; he ran it a few weeks, 107:046,18[E ]| till, I believe, it was convenient to have done with it. 107:046,19[E ]| I happened just then to be looking out for some light 107:046,20[E ]| thing of the kind, though I had pretty well determined 107:046,21[E ]| on a curricle too; but I chanced to meet him on Magdalen*Bridge, 107:046,22[E ]| as he was driving into Oxford, last term: 107:046,22@w | ""Ah! 107:046,23@w | Thorpe,"" 107:046,23[E ]| said he, 107:046,23@w | ""do you happen to want such a little 107:046,24@w | thing as this? it is a capital one of the kind, but I am 107:046,25@w | cursed tired of it."" 107:046,25[E ]| ""Oh! d**"", said I, ""I am your 107:046,26[E ]| man; what do you ask?"" And how much do you think 107:046,27[E ]| he did, Miss*Morland?" 107:046,28[A ]| "I am sure I cannot guess at all." 107:046,29[E ]| "Curricle-hung you see; seat, trunk, sword-case, 107:046,30[E ]| splashing-board, lamps, silver moulding, all you see complete; 107:046,31[E ]| the iron-work as good as new, or better. He asked 107:046,32[E ]| fifty guineas; I closed with him directly, threw down 107:046,33[E ]| the money, and the carriage was mine." 107:046,34[A ]| "And I am sure," 107:046,34[' ]| said Catherine, 107:046,34[A ]| "I know so little of such 107:046,35[A ]| things that I cannot judge whether it was cheap or dear." 107:046,36[E ]| "Neither one nor t'other; I might have got it for less 107:046,37[E ]| I dare say; but I hate haggling, and poor Freeman 107:046,38[E ]| wanted cash." 107:047,01[A ]| "That was very good-natured of you," 107:047,01[' ]| said Catherine, 107:047,02[' ]| quite pleased. 107:047,03[E ]| "Oh! d** it, when one has the means of doing 107:047,04[E ]| a kind thing by a friend, I hate to be pitiful." 107:047,05[' ]| An inquiry now took place into the intended movements 107:047,06[' ]| of the young ladies; and, on finding whither they 107:047,07[' ]| were going, it was decided that the gentlemen should 107:047,08[' ]| accompany them to Edgar's*Buildings, and pay their 107:047,09[' ]| respects to Mrs%*Thorpe. James and Isabella led the 107:047,10[' ]| way; and so well satisfied was the latter with her lot, so 107:047,11[' ]| contentedly was she endeavouring to ensure a pleasant 107:047,12[' ]| walk to him who brought the double recommendation of 107:047,13[' ]| being her brother's friend, and her friend's brother, so 107:047,14[' ]| pure and uncoquettish were her feelings, that, though 107:047,15[' ]| they overtook and passed the two offending young men 107:047,16[' ]| in Milsom-street, she was so far from seeking to attract 107:047,17[' ]| their notice, that she looked back at them only three 107:047,18[' ]| times. 107:047,19[' ]| John*Thorpe kept of course with Catherine, and, after 107:047,20[' ]| a few minutes' silence, renewed the conversation about 107:047,21[' ]| his gig ~~ 107:047,21[E ]| "You will find, however, Miss*Morland, it would 107:047,22[E ]| be reckoned a cheap thing by some people, for I might 107:047,23[E ]| have sold it for ten guineas more the next day; Jackson of 107:047,24[E ]| Oriel, bid me sixty at once; Morland was with me at 107:047,25[E ]| the time." 107:047,26[K ]| "Yes," 107:047,26[' ]| said Morland, who overheard this; 107:047,26[K ]| "but you 107:047,27[K ]| forget that your horse was included." 107:047,28[E ]| "My horse! oh, d** it! I would not sell my horse 107:047,29[E ]| for a hundred. Are you fond of an open carriage, Miss*Morland?" 107:047,30[E ]| 107:047,31[A ]| "Yes, very; I have hardly ever an opportunity of 107:047,32[A ]| being in one; but I am particularly fond of it." 107:047,33[E ]| "I am glad of it; I will drive you out in mine every day." 107:047,34[A ]| "Thank you," 107:047,34[' ]| said Catherine, in some distress, from 107:047,35[' ]| a doubt of the propriety of accepting such an offer. 107:047,36[E ]| "I will drive you up Lansdown*Hill to-morrow." 107:047,37[A ]| "Thank you; but will not your horse want rest?" 107:047,38[E ]| "Rest! he has only come three-and-twenty miles to-day; 107:048,01[E ]| all nonsense; nothing ruins horses so much as 107:048,02[E ]| rest; nothing knocks them up so soon. No, no; I shall 107:048,03[E ]| exercise mine at the average of four hours every day 107:048,04[E ]| while I am here." 107:048,05[A ]| "Shall you indeed!" 107:048,05[' ]| said Catherine very seriously, 107:048,06[A ]| "that will be forty miles a day." 107:048,07[E ]| "Forty! aye fifty, for what I care. Well, I will drive 107:048,08[E ]| you up Lansdown to-morrow; mind, I am engaged." 107:048,09[D ]| "How delightful that will be!" 107:048,09[' ]| cried Isabella, turning 107:048,10[' ]| round; 107:048,10[D ]| "my dearest Catherine, I quite envy you; but 107:048,11[D ]| I am afraid, brother, you will not have room for a third." 107:048,12[E ]| "A third indeed! no, no; I did not come to Bath to 107:048,13[E ]| drive my sisters about; that would be a good joke, 107:048,14[E ]| faith! Morland must take care of you." 107:048,15[' ]| This brought on a dialogue of civilities between the 107:048,16[' ]| other two; but Catherine heard neither the particulars 107:048,17[' ]| nor the result. Her companion's discourse now sunk 107:048,18[' ]| from its hitherto animated pitch, to nothing more than 107:048,19[' ]| a short decisive sentence of praise or condemnation on 107:048,20[' ]| the face of every woman they met; and Catherine, after 107:048,21[' ]| listening and agreeing as long as she could, with all the 107:048,22[' ]| civility and deference of the youthful female mind, fearful 107:048,23[' ]| of hazarding an opinion of its own in opposition to that 107:048,24[' ]| of a self-assured man, especially where the beauty of her 107:048,25[' ]| own sex is concerned, ventured at length to vary the 107:048,26[' ]| subject by a question which had been long uppermost in 107:048,27[' ]| her thoughts; it was, 107:048,27[A ]| "Have you ever read Udolpho, 107:048,28[A ]| Mr%*Thorpe?" 107:048,29[E ]| "Udolpho! Oh, Lord! not I; I never read novels; 107:048,30[E ]| I have something else to do." 107:048,31[' ]| Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was going to apologize 107:048,32[' ]| for her question, but he prevented her by saying, 107:048,32[E ]| "Novels 107:048,33[E ]| are all so full of nonsense and stuff; there has not been 107:048,34[E ]| a tolerably decent one come out since Tom*Jones, except 107:048,35[E ]| the*Monk; I read that t'other day; but as for all the 107:048,36[E ]| others, they are the stupidest things in creation." 107:048,37[A ]| "I think you must like Udolpho, if you were to read 107:048,38[A ]| it; it is so very interesting." 107:049,01[E ]| "Not I, faith! No, if I read any, it shall be Mrs%*Radcliff's; 107:049,02[E ]| her novels are amusing enough; they are 107:049,03[E ]| worth reading; some fun and nature in \them\." 107:049,04[A ]| "Udolpho was written by Mrs%*Radcliff," 107:049,04[' ]| said Catherine, 107:049,05[' ]| with some hesitation, from the fear of mortifying him. 107:049,06[E ]| "No sure; was it? Aye, I remember, so it was; 107:049,07[E ]| I was thinking of that other stupid book, written by that 107:049,08[E ]| woman they make such a fuss about, she who married 107:049,09[E ]| the French emigrant." 107:049,10[A ]| "I suppose you mean Camilla?" 107:049,11[E ]| "Yes, that's the book; such unnatural stuff! ~~ An 107:049,12[E ]| old man playing at see-saw! I took up the first volume 107:049,13[E ]| once, and looked it over, but I soon found it would not 107:049,14[E ]| do; indeed I guessed what sort of stuff it must be before 107:049,15[E ]| I saw it: as soon as I heard she had married an emigrant, 107:049,16[E ]| I was sure I should never be able to get through it." 107:049,17[A ]| "I have never read it." 107:049,18[E ]| "You had no loss I assure you; it is the horridest 107:049,19[E ]| nonsense you can imagine; there is nothing in the world 107:049,20[E ]| in it but an old man's playing at see-saw and learning 107:049,21[E ]| Latin; upon my soul there is not." 107:049,22[' ]| This critique, the justness of which was unfortunately 107:049,23[' ]| lost on poor Catherine, brought them to the door of 107:049,24[' ]| Mrs%*Thorpe's lodgings, and the feelings of the discerning 107:049,25[' ]| and unprejudiced reader of Camilla gave way to the 107:049,26[' ]| feelings of the dutiful and affectionate son, as they met 107:049,27[' ]| Mrs%*Thorpe, who had descried them from above, in the 107:049,28[' ]| passage. 107:049,28[E ]| "Ah, mother! how do you do?" 107:049,28[' ]| said he, 107:049,29[' ]| giving her a hearty shake of the hand: 107:049,29[E ]| "where did you 107:049,30[E ]| get that quiz of a hat, it makes you look like an old 107:049,31[E ]| witch? Here is Morland and I come to stay a few days 107:049,32[E ]| with you, so you must look out for a couple of good beds 107:049,33[E ]| some*where near." 107:049,33[' ]| And this address seemed to satisfy all 107:049,34[' ]| the fondest wishes of the mother's heart, for she received 107:049,35[' ]| him with the most delighted and exulting affection. On 107:049,36[' ]| his two younger sisters he then bestowed an equal portion 107:049,37[' ]| of his fraternal tenderness, for he asked each of them how 107:049,38[' ]| they did, and observed that they both looked very ugly. 107:050,01[' ]| These manners did not please Catherine; but he was 107:050,02[' ]| James's friend and Isabella's brother; and her judgment 107:050,03[' ]| was further bought off by Isabella's assuring her, when 107:050,04[' ]| they withdrew to see the new hat, that 107:050,04@d | John thought her 107:050,05@d | the most charming girl in the world, 107:050,05[' ]| and by John's 107:050,06[' ]| engaging her before they parted to dance with him that 107:050,07[' ]| evening. Had she been older or vainer, such attacks 107:050,08[' ]| might have done little; but, where youth and diffidence 107:050,09[' ]| are united, it requires uncommon steadiness of reason to 107:050,10[' ]| resist the attraction of being called the most charming 107:050,11[' ]| girl in the world, and of being so very early engaged as 107:050,12[' ]| a partner; and the consequence was, that, when the two 107:050,13[' ]| Morlands, after sitting an hour with the Thorpes, set off 107:050,14[' ]| to walk together to Mr%*Allen's, and James, as the door 107:050,15[' ]| was closed on them, said, 107:050,15[K ]| "Well, Catherine, how do you like 107:050,16[K ]| my friend Thorpe?" 107:050,16[' ]| instead of answering, as she probably 107:050,17[' ]| would have done, had there been no friendship and no 107:050,18[' ]| flattery in the case, "I do not like him at all;" she directly 107:050,19[' ]| replied, 107:050,19[A ]| "I like him very much; he seems very agreeable." 107:050,20[K ]| "He is as good-natured a fellow as ever lived; a little 107:050,21[K ]| of a rattle; but that will recommend him to your sex 107:050,22[K ]| I believe: and how do you like the rest of the family?" 107:050,23[A ]| "Very, very much indeed: Isabella particularly." 107:050,24[K ]| "I am very glad to hear you say so; she is just the 107:050,25[K ]| kind of young woman I could wish to see you attached 107:050,26[K ]| to; she has so much good sense, and is so thoroughly 107:050,27[K ]| unaffected and amiable; I always wanted you to know 107:050,28[K ]| her; and she seems very fond of you. She said the 107:050,29[K ]| highest things in your praise that could possibly be; and the 107:050,30[K ]| praise of such a girl as Miss*Thorpe even you, Catherine," 107:050,31[' ]| taking her hand with affection, 107:050,31[K ]| "may be proud of." 107:050,32[A ]| "Indeed I am," 107:050,32[' ]| she replied; 107:050,32[A ]| "I love her exceedingly, 107:050,33[A ]| and am delighted to find that you like her too. You 107:050,34[A ]| hardly mentioned any*thing of her, when you wrote to 107:050,35[A ]| me after your visit there." 107:050,36[K ]| "Because I thought I should soon see you myself. 107:050,37[K ]| I hope you will be a great deal together while you are in 107:050,38[K ]| Bath. She is a most amiable girl; such a superior understanding! 107:051,01[K ]| How fond all the family are of her; she is 107:051,02[K ]| evidently the general favourite; and how much she must 107:051,03[K ]| be admired in such a place as this ~~ is not she?" 107:051,04[A ]| "Yes, very much indeed, I fancy; Mr%*Allen thinks 107:051,05[A ]| her the prettiest girl in Bath." 107:051,06[K ]| "I dare say he does; and I do not know any man who 107:051,07[K ]| is a better judge of beauty than Mr%*Allen. I need not 107:051,08[K ]| ask you whether you are happy here, my dear Catherine; 107:051,09[K ]| with such a companion and friend as Isabella*Thorpe, it 107:051,10[K ]| would be impossible for you to be otherwise; and the 107:051,11[K ]| Allens I am sure are very kind to you?" 107:051,12[A ]| "Yes, very kind; I never was so happy before; and 107:051,13[A ]| now you are come it will be more delightful than ever; 107:051,14[A ]| how good it is of you to come so far on purpose to see \me\." 107:051,15[' ]| James accepted this tribute of gratitude, and qualified 107:051,16[' ]| his conscience for accepting it too, by saying with perfect 107:051,17[' ]| sincerity, 107:051,17[K ]| "Indeed, Catherine, I love you dearly." 107:051,18[' ]| Inquiries and communications concerning brothers and 107:051,19[' ]| sisters, the situation of some, the growth of the rest, and 107:051,20[' ]| other family matters, now passed between them, and continued, 107:051,21[' ]| with only one small digression on James's part, 107:051,22[' ]| in praise of Miss*Thorpe, till they reached Pulteney-street, 107:051,23[' ]| where he was welcomed with great kindness by 107:051,24[' ]| Mr% and Mrs%*Allen, invited by the former to dine with 107:051,25[' ]| them, and summoned by the latter to guess the price and 107:051,26[' ]| weigh the merits of a new muff and tippet. A pre-engagement 107:051,27[' ]| in Edgar's*Buildings prevented his accepting 107:051,28[' ]| the invitation of one friend, and obliged him to hurry 107:051,29[' ]| away as soon as he had satisfied the demands of the 107:051,30[' ]| other. The time of the two parties uniting in the Octagon*Room 107:051,31[' ]| being correctly adjusted, Catherine was then left 107:051,32[' ]| to the luxury of a raised, restless, and frightened imagination 107:051,33[' ]| over the pages of Udolpho, lost from all worldly 107:051,34[' ]| concerns of dressing and dinner, incapable of soothing 107:051,35[' ]| Mrs%*Allen's fears on the delay of an expected dress-maker, 107:051,36[' ]| and having only one minute in sixty to bestow 107:051,37[' ]| even on the reflection of her own felicity, in being already 107:051,38[' ]| engaged for the evening. 108:052,01[' ]| In spite of Udolpho and the dress-maker, however, the 108:052,02[' ]| party from Pulteney-street reached the Upper-rooms in 108:052,03[' ]| very good time. The Thorpes and James*Morland were 108:052,04[' ]| there only two minutes before them; and Isabella having 108:052,05[' ]| gone through the usual ceremonial of meeting her friend 108:052,06[' ]| with the most smiling and affectionate haste, of admiring 108:052,07[' ]| the set of her gown, and envying the curl of her hair, 108:052,08[' ]| they followed their chaperons, arm in arm, into the ball-room, 108:052,09[' ]| whispering to each other whenever a thought 108:052,10[' ]| occurred, and supplying the place of many ideas by 108:052,11[' ]| a squeeze of the hand or a smile of affection. 108:052,12[' ]| The dancing began within a few minutes after they 108:052,13[' ]| were seated; and James, who had been engaged quite as 108:052,14[' ]| long as his sister, was very importunate with Isabella to 108:052,15[' ]| stand up; but John was gone into the card-room to 108:052,16[' ]| speak to a friend, and 108:052,16@d | nothing, 108:052,16[' ]| she declared, 108:052,16@d | should 108:052,17@d | induce her to join the set before her dear Catherine could 108:052,18@d | join it too: 108:052,18[D ]| "I assure you," 108:052,18[' ]| said she, 108:052,18[D ]| "I would not 108:052,19[D ]| stand up without your dear sister for all the world; for 108:052,20[D ]| if I did we should certainly be separated the whole evening." 108:052,21[' ]| Catherine accepted this kindness with gratitude, 108:052,22[' ]| and they continued as they were for three minutes longer, 108:052,23[' ]| when Isabella, who had been talking to James on the 108:052,24[' ]| other side of her, turned again to his sister and whispered, 108:052,25[D ]| "My dear creature, I am afraid I must leave you, your 108:052,26[D ]| brother is so amazingly impatient to begin; I know you 108:052,27[D ]| will not mind my going away, and I dare say John will 108:052,28[D ]| be back in a moment, and then you may easily find me 108:052,29[D ]| out." 108:052,29[' ]| Catherine, though a little disappointed, had too 108:052,30[' ]| much good-nature to make any opposition, and the others 108:052,31[' ]| rising up, Isabella had only time to press her friend's 108:052,32[' ]| hand and say, 108:052,32[D ]| "Good*bye, my dear love," 108:052,32[' ]| before they 108:052,33[' ]| hurried off. The younger Miss*Thorpes being also dancing, 108:053,01[' ]| Catherine was left to the mercy of Mrs%*Thorpe and 108:053,02[' ]| Mrs%*Allen, between whom she now remained. She could 108:053,03[' ]| not help being vexed at the non-appearance of Mr%*Thorpe, 108:053,04[' ]| for she not only longed to be dancing, but was likewise 108:053,05[' ]| aware that, as the real dignity of her situation could not 108:053,06[' ]| be known, she was sharing with the scores of other young 108:053,07[' ]| ladies still sitting down all the discredit of wanting 108:053,08[' ]| a partner. To be disgraced in the eye of the world, to 108:053,09[' ]| wear the appearance of infamy while her heart is all 108:053,10[' ]| purity, her actions all innocence, and the misconduct of 108:053,11[' ]| another the true source of her debasement, is one of 108:053,12[' ]| those circumstances which peculiarly belong to the 108:053,13[' ]| heroine's life, and her fortitude under it what particularly 108:053,14[' ]| dignifies her character. Catherine had fortitude too; 108:053,15[' ]| she suffered, but no murmur passed her lips. 108:053,16[' ]| From this state of humiliation, she was roused, at the 108:053,17[' ]| end of ten minutes, to a pleasanter feeling, by seeing, not 108:053,18[' ]| Mr%*Thorpe, but Mr%*Tilney, within three yards of the 108:053,19[' ]| place where they sat; he seemed to be moving that way, 108:053,20[' ]| but he did not see her, and therefore the smile and the 108:053,21[' ]| blush, which his sudden reappearance raised in Catherine, 108:053,22[' ]| passed away without sullying her heroic importance. He 108:053,23[' ]| looked as handsome and as lively as ever, and was talking 108:053,24[' ]| with interest to a fashionable and pleasing-looking young 108:053,25[' ]| woman, who leant on his arm, and whom Catherine 108:053,26[' ]| immediately guessed to be his sister; thus unthinkingly 108:053,27[' ]| throwing away a fair opportunity of considering him lost 108:053,28[' ]| to her for*ever, by being married already. But guided 108:053,29[' ]| only by what was simple and probable, it had never 108:053,30[' ]| entered her head that Mr%*Tilney could be married; he 108:053,31[' ]| had not behaved, he had not talked, like the married 108:053,32[' ]| men to whom she had been used; he had never mentioned 108:053,33[' ]| a wife, and he had acknowledged a sister. From 108:053,34[' ]| these circumstances sprang the instant conclusion of his 108:053,35[' ]| sister's now being by his side; and therefore, instead of 108:053,36[' ]| turning of a deathlike paleness, and falling in a fit on Mrs%*Allen's 108:053,37[' ]| bosom, Catherine sat erect, in the perfect use of 108:053,38[' ]| her senses, and with cheeks only a little redder than usual. 108:054,01[' ]| Mr%*Tilney and his companion, who continued, though 108:054,02[' ]| slowly, to approach, were immediately preceded by a lady, 108:054,03[' ]| an acquaintance of Mrs%*Thorpe; and this lady stopping 108:054,04[' ]| to speak to her, they, as belonging to her, stopped likewise, 108:054,05[' ]| and Catherine, catching Mr%*Tilney's eye, instantly 108:054,06[' ]| received from him the smiling tribute of recognition. She 108:054,07[' ]| returned it with pleasure, and then advancing still nearer, 108:054,08[' ]| he spoke both to her and Mrs%*Allen, by whom he was 108:054,09[' ]| very civilly acknowledged. 108:054,09[I ]| "I am very happy to see 108:054,10[I ]| you again, sir, indeed; I was afraid you had left Bath." 108:054,11[' ]| He thanked her for her fears, and said that 108:054,11@b | he had quitted 108:054,12@b | it for a week, on the very morning after his having had 108:054,13@b | the pleasure of seeing her. 108:054,14[I ]| "Well, sir, and I dare say you are not sorry to be back 108:054,15[I ]| again, for it is just the place for young people ~~ and 108:054,16[I ]| indeed for every*body else too. I tell Mr%*Allen, when 108:054,17[I ]| he talks of being sick of it, that I am sure he should not 108:054,18[I ]| complain, for it is so very agreeable a place, that it is 108:054,19[I ]| much better to be here than at home at this dull time of 108:054,20[I ]| year. I tell him he is quite in luck to be sent here for 108:054,21[I ]| his health." 108:054,22[B ]| "And I hope, madam, that Mr%*Allen will be obliged 108:054,23[B ]| to like the place, from finding it of service to him." 108:054,24[I ]| "Thank you, sir. I have no doubt that he will. ~~ 108:054,25[I ]| A neighbour of ours, Dr%*Skinner, was here for his health 108:054,26[I ]| last winter, and came away quite stout." 108:054,27[B ]| "That circumstance must give great encouragement." 108:054,28[I ]| "Yes, sir ~~ and Dr%*Skinner and his family were here 108:054,29[I ]| three months; so I tell Mr%*Allen he must not be in 108:054,30[I ]| a hurry to get away." 108:054,31[' ]| Here they were interrupted by a request from Mrs%*Thorpe 108:054,32[' ]| to Mrs%*Allen, that she would move a little to 108:054,33[' ]| accommodate Mrs%*Hughes and Miss*Tilney with seats, as 108:054,34[' ]| they had agreed to join their party. This was accordingly 108:054,35[' ]| done, Mr%*Tilney still continuing standing before them; 108:054,36[' ]| and after a few minutes consideration, he asked Catherine 108:054,37[' ]| to dance with him. This compliment, delightful as it 108:054,38[' ]| was, produced severe mortification to the lady; and in 108:055,01[' ]| giving her denial, she expressed her sorrow on the occasion 108:055,02[' ]| so very much as if she really felt it, that had Thorpe, who 108:055,03[' ]| joined her just afterwards, been half a minute earlier, he 108:055,04[' ]| might have thought her sufferings rather too acute. The 108:055,05[' ]| very easy manner in which he then told her that he had 108:055,06[' ]| kept her waiting, did not by any means reconcile her 108:055,07[' ]| more to her lot; nor did the particulars which he entered 108:055,08[' ]| into while they were standing up, of the horses and dogs 108:055,09[' ]| of the friend whom he had just left, and of a proposed 108:055,10[' ]| exchange of terriers between them, interest her so much 108:055,11[' ]| as to prevent her looking very often towards that part of 108:055,12[' ]| the room where she had left Mr%*Tilney. Of her dear 108:055,13[' ]| Isabella, to whom she particularly longed to point out 108:055,14[' ]| that gentleman, she could see nothing. They were in 108:055,15[' ]| different sets. She was separated from all her party, 108:055,16[' ]| and away from all her acquaintance; ~~ one mortification 108:055,17[' ]| succeeded another, and from the whole she deduced this 108:055,18[' ]| useful lesson, that to go previously engaged to a ball, does 108:055,19[' ]| not necessarily increase either the dignity or enjoyment 108:055,20[' ]| of a young lady. From such a moralizing strain as this, 108:055,21[' ]| she was suddenly roused by a touch on the shoulder, and 108:055,22[' ]| turning round, perceived Mrs%*Hughes directly behind 108:055,23[' ]| her, attended by Miss*Tilney and a gentleman. 108:055,23[Q ]| "I beg 108:055,24[Q ]| your pardon, Miss*Morland," 108:055,24[' ]| said she, 108:055,24[Q ]| "for this liberty, ~~ 108:055,25[Q ]| but I cannot any*how get to Miss*Thorpe, and Mrs%*Thorpe 108:055,26[Q ]| said she was sure you would not have the least 108:055,27[Q ]| objection to letting in this young lady by you." 108:055,27[' ]| Mrs%*Hughes 108:055,28[' ]| could not have applied to any creature in the 108:055,29[' ]| room more happy to oblige her than Catherine. The 108:055,30[' ]| young ladies were introduced to each other, Miss*Tilney 108:055,31[' ]| expressing a proper sense of such goodness, Miss*Morland 108:055,32[' ]| with the real delicacy of a generous mind making light 108:055,33[' ]| of the obligation; and Mrs%*Hughes, satisfied with having 108:055,34[' ]| so respectably settled her young charge, returned to her 108:055,35[' ]| party. 108:055,36[' ]| Miss*Tilney had a good figure, a pretty face, and a very 108:055,37[' ]| agreeable countenance; and her air, though it had not 108:055,38[' ]| all the decided pretension, the resolute stilishness of 108:056,01[' ]| Miss*Thorpe's, had more real elegance. Her manners 108:056,02[' ]| shewed good sense and good*breeding; they were neither 108:056,03[' ]| shy, nor affectedly open; and she seemed capable of 108:056,04[' ]| being young, attractive, and at a ball, without wanting 108:056,05[' ]| to fix the attention of every man near her, and without 108:056,06[' ]| exaggerated feelings of extatic delight or inconceivable 108:056,07[' ]| vexation on every little trifling occurrence. Catherine, 108:056,08[' ]| interested at once by her appearance and her relationship 108:056,09[' ]| to Mr%*Tilney, was desirous of being acquainted with her, 108:056,10[' ]| and readily talked therefore whenever she could think 108:056,11[' ]| of any*thing to say, and had courage and leisure for 108:056,12[' ]| saying it. But the hindrance thrown in the way of a very 108:056,13[' ]| speedy intimacy, by the frequent want of one or more of 108:056,14[' ]| these requisites, prevented their doing more than going 108:056,15[' ]| through the first rudiments of an acquaintance, by informing 108:056,16[' ]| themselves how well the other liked Bath, how 108:056,17[' ]| much she admired its buildings and surrounding country, 108:056,18[' ]| whether she drew, or played or sang, and whether she 108:056,19[' ]| was fond of riding on horseback. 108:056,20[' ]| The two dances were scarcely concluded before Catherine 108:056,21[' ]| found her arm gently seized by her faithful Isabella, who 108:056,22[' ]| in great spirits exclaimed ~~ 108:056,22[D ]| "At last I have got you. My 108:056,23[D ]| dearest creature, I have been looking for you this hour. 108:056,24[D ]| What could induce you to come into this set, when you 108:056,25[D ]| knew I was in the other? I have been quite wretched 108:056,26[D ]| without you." 108:056,27[A ]| "My dear Isabella, how was it possible for me to get 108:056,28[A ]| at you? I could not even see where you were." 108:056,29[D ]| "So I told your brother all the time ~~ but he would 108:056,30[D ]| not believe me. Do go and see for her, Mr%*Morland, said 108:056,31[D ]| I ~~ but all in vain ~~ he would not stir an inch. Was not 108:056,32[D ]| it so, Mr%*Morland? But you men are all so immoderately 108:056,33[D ]| lazy! I have been scolding him to such a degree, my dear 108:056,34[D ]| Catherine, you would be quite amazed. ~~ You know 108:056,35[D ]| I never stand upon ceremony with such people." 108:056,36[A ]| "Look at that young lady with the white beads round 108:056,37[A ]| her head," 108:056,37[' ]| whispered Catherine, detaching her friend 108:056,38[' ]| from James ~~ 108:056,38[A ]| "It is Mr%*Tilney's sister." 108:057,01[D ]| "Oh! heavens! You don't say so! Let me look at 108:057,02[D ]| her this moment. What a delightful girl! I never saw 108:057,03[D ]| any*thing half so beautiful! But where is her all-conquering 108:057,04[D ]| brother? Is he in the room? Point him out to me 108:057,05[D ]| this instant, if he is. I die to see him. Mr%*Morland, you 108:057,06[D ]| are not to listen. We are not talking about you." 108:057,07[K ]| "But what is all this whispering about? What is 108:057,08[K ]| going on?" 108:057,09[D ]| "There now, I knew how it would be. You men have 108:057,10[D ]| such restless curiosity! Talk of the curiosity of women, 108:057,11[D ]| indeed! ~~ 'tis nothing. But be satisfied, for you are not 108:057,12[D ]| to know any*thing at all of the matter." 108:057,13[K ]| "And is that likely to satisfy me, do you think?" 108:057,14[D ]| "Well, I declare I never knew any*thing like you. 108:057,15[D ]| What can it signify to you, what we are talking of? 108:057,16[D ]| Perhaps we are talking about you, therefore I would 108:057,17[D ]| advise you not to listen, or you may happen to hear 108:057,18[D ]| some*thing not very agreeable." 108:057,19[' ]| In this common-place chatter, which lasted some time, 108:057,20[' ]| the original subject seemed entirely forgotten; and 108:057,21[' ]| though Catherine was very well pleased to have it dropped 108:057,22[' ]| for a while, she could not avoid a little suspicion at the 108:057,23[' ]| total suspension of all Isabella's desire to see 108:057,24[' ]| Mr%*Tilney. When the orchestra struck up a fresh dance, 108:057,25[' ]| James would have led his fair partner away, but she 108:057,26[' ]| resisted. 108:057,26[D ]| "I tell you, Mr%*Morland," 108:057,26[' ]| she cried, 108:057,26[D ]| "I would 108:057,27[D ]| not do such a thing for all the world. How can you be so 108:057,28[D ]| teasing; only conceive, my dear Catherine, what your 108:057,29[D ]| brother wants me to do. He wants me to dance with him 108:057,30[D ]| again, though I tell him that it is a most improper 108:057,31[D ]| thing, and entirely against the rules. It would make 108:057,32[D ]| us the talk of the place, if we were not to change 108:057,33[D ]| partners." 108:057,34[K ]| "Upon my honour," 108:057,34[' ]| said James, 108:057,34[K ]| "in these public 108:057,35[K ]| assemblies, it is as often done as not." 108:057,36[D ]| "Nonsense, how can you say so? But when you men 108:057,37[D ]| have a point to carry, you never stick at any*thing. My 108:057,38[D ]| sweet Catherine, do support me, persuade your brother 108:058,01[D ]| how impossible it is. Tell him, that it would quite shock 108:058,02[D ]| you to see me do such a thing; now would not it?" 108:058,03[A ]| "No, not at all; but if you think it wrong, you had 108:058,04[A ]| much better change." 108:058,05[D ]| "There," 108:058,05[' ]| cried Isabella, 108:058,05[D ]| "you hear what your sister 108:058,06[D ]| says, and yet you will not mind her. Well, remember 108:058,07[D ]| that it is not my fault, if we set all the old ladies in Bath 108:058,08[D ]| in a bustle. Come along, my dearest Catherine, for 108:058,09[D ]| heaven's sake, and stand by me." 108:058,09[' ]| And off they went, 108:058,10[' ]| to regain their former place. John*Thorpe, in the meanwhile, 108:058,11[' ]| had walked away; and Catherine, ever willing to 108:058,12[' ]| give Mr%*Tilney an opportunity of repeating the agreeable 108:058,13[' ]| request which had already flattered her once, made her 108:058,14[' ]| way to Mrs%*Allen and Mrs%*Thorpe as fast as she could, 108:058,15[' ]| in the hope of finding him still with them ~~ a hope which, 108:058,16[' ]| when it proved to be fruitless, she felt to have been highly 108:058,17[' ]| unreasonable. 108:058,17[N ]| "Well, my dear," 108:058,17[' ]| said Mrs%*Thorpe, 108:058,18[' ]| impatient for praise of her son, 108:058,18[N ]| "I hope you have had 108:058,19[N ]| an agreeable partner." 108:058,20[A ]| "Very agreeable, madam." 108:058,21[N ]| "I am glad of it. John has charming spirits, has 108:058,22[N ]| not he?" 108:058,23[I ]| "Did you meet Mr%*Tilney, my dear?" 108:058,23[' ]| said Mrs%*Allen. 108:058,23[' ]| 108:058,25[A ]| "No, where is he?" 108:058,26[I ]| "He was with us just now, and said he was so tired of 108:058,27[I ]| lounging about, that he was resolved to go and dance; 108:058,28[I ]| so I thought perhaps he would ask you, if he met with 108:058,29[I ]| you." 108:058,30[A ]| "Where can he be?" 108:058,30[' ]| said Catherine, looking round; 108:058,31[' ]| but she had not looked round long before she saw him 108:058,32[' ]| leading a young lady to the dance. 108:058,33[I ]| "Ah! he has got a partner, I wish he had asked \you\," 108:058,34[' ]| said Mrs%*Allen; and after a short silence, she added, 108:058,35[I ]| "he is a very agreeable young man." 108:058,36[N ]| "Indeed he is, Mrs%*Allen," 108:058,36[' ]| said Mrs%*Thorpe, smiling 108:058,37[' ]| complacently; 108:058,37[N ]| "I must say it, though I \am\ his mother, 108:058,38[N ]| that there is not a more agreeable young man in the world." 108:059,01[' ]| This inapplicable answer might have been too much for 108:059,02[' ]| the comprehension of many; but it did not puzzle Mrs%*Allen, 108:059,03[' ]| for after only a moment's consideration, she said, 108:059,04[' ]| in a whisper to Catherine, 108:059,04[I ]| "I dare say she thought I was 108:059,05[I ]| speaking of her son." 108:059,06[' ]| Catherine was disappointed and vexed. She seemed to 108:059,07[' ]| have missed by so little the very object she had had in 108:059,08[' ]| view; and this persuasion did not incline her to a very 108:059,09[' ]| gracious reply, when John*Thorpe came up to her soon 108:059,10[' ]| afterwards, and said, 108:059,10[E ]| "Well, Miss*Morland, I suppose 108:059,11[E ]| you and I are to stand up and jig it together again." 108:059,12[A ]| "Oh, no; I am much obliged to you, our two dances 108:059,13[A ]| are over; and, besides, I am tired, and do not mean to 108:059,14[A ]| dance any more." 108:059,15[E ]| "Do not you? ~~ then let us walk about and quiz 108:059,16[E ]| people. Come along with me, and I will shew you the 108:059,17[E ]| four greatest quizzers in the room; my two younger 108:059,18[E ]| sisters and their partners. I have been laughing at them 108:059,19[E ]| this half hour." 108:059,20[' ]| Again Catherine excused herself; and at last he walked 108:059,21[' ]| off to quiz his sisters by himself. The rest of the evening 108:059,22[' ]| she found very dull; Mr%*Tilney was drawn away from 108:059,23[' ]| their party at tea, to attend that of his partner; Miss*Tilney, 108:059,24[' ]| though belonging to it, did not sit near her, and 108:059,25[' ]| James and Isabella were so much engaged in conversing 108:059,26[' ]| together, that the latter had no leisure to bestow more 108:059,27[' ]| on her friend than one smile, one squeeze, and one 108:059,28[D ]| "dearest Catherine." 109:060,01[' ]| The progress of Catherine's unhappiness from the 109:060,02[' ]| events of the evening, was as follows. It appeared first 109:060,03[' ]| in a general dissatisfaction with every*body about her, 109:060,04[' ]| while she remained in the rooms, which speedily brought 109:060,05[' ]| on considerable weariness and a violent desire to go home. 109:060,06[' ]| This, on arriving in Pulteney-street, took the direction 109:060,07[' ]| of extraordinary hunger, and when that was appeased, 109:060,08[' ]| changed into an earnest longing to be in bed; such was 109:060,09[' ]| the extreme point of her distress; for when there she 109:060,10[' ]| immediately fell into a sound sleep which lasted nine 109:060,11[' ]| hours, and from which she awoke perfectly revived, in 109:060,12[' ]| excellent spirits, with fresh hopes and fresh schemes. 109:060,13[' ]| The first wish of her heart was to improve her acquaintance 109:060,14[' ]| with Miss*Tilney, and almost her first resolution, to 109:060,15[' ]| seek her for that purpose, in the Pump-room at noon. In 109:060,16[' ]| the Pump-room, one so newly arrived in Bath must be 109:060,17[' ]| met with, and that building she had already found so 109:060,18[' ]| favourable for the discovery of female excellence, and the 109:060,19[' ]| completion of female intimacy, so admirably adapted for 109:060,20[' ]| secret discourses and unlimited confidence, that she was 109:060,21[' ]| most reasonably encouraged to expect another friend 109:060,22[' ]| from within its walls. Her plan for the morning thus 109:060,23[' ]| settled, she sat quietly down to her book after breakfast, 109:060,24[' ]| resolving to remain in the same place and the same 109:060,25[' ]| employment till the clock struck one; and from habitude 109:060,26[' ]| very little incommoded by the remarks and ejaculations 109:060,27[' ]| of Mrs%*Allen, whose vacancy of mind and incapacity for 109:060,28[' ]| thinking were such, that as she never talked a great deal, 109:060,29[' ]| so she could never be entirely silent; and, therefore, 109:060,30[' ]| while she sat at her work, if she lost her needle or broke 109:060,31[' ]| her thread, if she heard a carriage in the street, or saw 109:060,32[' ]| a speck upon her gown, she must observe it aloud, 109:060,33[' ]| whether there were any*one at leisure to answer her or 109:061,01[' ]| not. At about half past twelve, a remarkably loud rap 109:061,02[' ]| drew her in haste to the window, and scarcely had she 109:061,03[' ]| time to inform Catherine of there being two open carriages 109:061,04[' ]| at the door, in the first only a servant, her brother driving 109:061,05[' ]| Miss*Thorpe in the second, before John*Thorpe came 109:061,06[' ]| running up*stairs, calling out, 109:061,06[E ]| "Well, Miss*Morland, here 109:061,07[E ]| I am. Have you been waiting long? We could not come 109:061,08[E ]| before; the old devil of a coachmaker was such an 109:061,09[E ]| eternity finding out a thing fit to be got into, and now 109:061,10[E ]| it is ten thousand to one, but they break down before we 109:061,11[E ]| are out of the street. How do you do, Mrs%*Allen? 109:061,12[E ]| a famous ball last night, was not it? Come, Miss*Morland, 109:061,13[E ]| be quick, for the others are in a confounded hurry to be 109:061,14[E ]| off. They want to get their tumble over." 109:061,15[A ]| "What do you mean?" 109:061,15[' ]| said Catherine, 109:061,15[A ]| "where are 109:061,16[A ]| you all going to?" 109:061,17[E ]| "Going to? why, you have not forgot our engagement! 109:061,18[E ]| Did not we agree together to take a drive this morning? 109:061,19[E ]| What a head you have! We are going up Claverton*Down." 109:061,20[E ]| 109:061,21[A ]| "Some*thing was said about it, I remember," 109:061,21[' ]| said 109:061,22[' ]| Catherine, looking at Mrs%*Allen for her opinion; 109:061,22[A ]| "but 109:061,23[A ]| really I did not expect you." 109:061,24[E ]| "Not expect me! that's a good one! And what 109:061,25[E ]| a dust you would have made, if I had not come." 109:061,26[' ]| Catherine's silent appeal to her friend, meanwhile, was 109:061,27[' ]| entirely thrown away, for Mrs%*Allen, not being at all in 109:061,28[' ]| the habit of conveying any expression herself by a look, 109:061,29[' ]| was not aware of its being ever intended by any*body 109:061,30[' ]| else; and Catherine, whose desire of seeing Miss*Tilney 109:061,31[' ]| again could at that moment bear a short delay in favour 109:061,32[' ]| of a drive, and who thought there could be no impropriety 109:061,33[' ]| in her going with Mr%*Thorpe, as Isabella was going at 109:061,34[' ]| the same time with James, was therefore obliged to speak 109:061,35[' ]| plainer. 109:061,35[A ]| "Well, ma'am, what do you say to it? Can 109:061,36[A ]| you spare me for an hour or two? shall I go?" 109:061,37[I ]| "Do just as you please, my dear," 109:061,37[' ]| replied Mrs%*Allen, 109:061,38[' ]| with the most placid indifference. Catherine took the 109:062,01[' ]| advice, and ran off to get ready. In a very few minutes 109:062,02[' ]| she re-appeared, having scarcely allowed the two others 109:062,03[' ]| time enough to get through a few short sentences in her 109:062,04[' ]| praise, after Thorpe had procured Mrs%*Allen's admiration 109:062,05[' ]| of his gig; and then receiving her friend's parting 109:062,06[' ]| good wishes, they both hurried down*stairs. 109:062,06[D ]| "My dearest 109:062,07[D ]| creature," 109:062,07[' ]| cried Isabella, to whom the duty of friendship 109:062,08[' ]| immediately called her before she could get into the 109:062,09[' ]| carriage, 109:062,09[D ]| "you have been at least three hours getting 109:062,10[D ]| ready. I was afraid you were ill. What a delightful ball 109:062,11[D ]| we had last night. I have a thousand things to say to 109:062,12[D ]| you; but make haste and get in, for I long to be off." 109:062,13[' ]| Catherine followed her orders and turned away, but 109:062,14[' ]| not too soon to hear her friend exclaim aloud to James, 109:062,15[D ]| "What a sweet girl she is! I quite doat on her." 109:062,16[E ]| "You will not be frightened, Miss*Morland," 109:062,16[' ]| said 109:062,17[' ]| Thorpe, as he handed her in, 109:062,17[E ]| "if my horse should dance 109:062,18[E ]| about a little at first setting off. He will, most likely, 109:062,19[E ]| give a plunge or two, and perhaps take the rest for a 109:062,20[E ]| minute; but he will soon know his master. He is full 109:062,21[E ]| of spirits, playful as can be, but there is no vice in him." 109:062,22[' ]| Catherine did not think the portrait a very inviting 109:062,23[' ]| one, but it was too late to retreat, and she was too young 109:062,24[' ]| to own herself frightened; so, resigning herself to her 109:062,25[' ]| fate, and trusting to the animal's boasted knowledge of 109:062,26[' ]| its owner, she sat peaceably down, and saw Thorpe sit 109:062,27[' ]| down by her. Every*thing being then arranged, the 109:062,28[' ]| servant who stood at the horse's head was bid in an 109:062,29[' ]| important voice 109:062,29[E ]| "to let him go," 109:062,29[' ]| and off they went in 109:062,30[' ]| the quietest manner imaginable, without a plunge or 109:062,31[' ]| a caper, or any*thing like one. Catherine, delighted at 109:062,32[' ]| so happy an escape, spoke her pleasure aloud with grateful 109:062,33[' ]| surprize; and her companion immediately made the 109:062,34[' ]| matter perfectly simple by assuring her that it was 109:062,35[' ]| entirely owing to the peculiarly judicious manner in 109:062,36[' ]| which he had then held the reins, and the singular discernment 109:062,37[' ]| and dexterity with which he had directed his 109:062,38[' ]| whip. Catherine, though she could not help wondering 109:063,01[' ]| that with such perfect command of his horse, he should 109:063,02[' ]| think it necessary to alarm her with a relation of its tricks, 109:063,03[' ]| congratulated herself sincerely on being under the care 109:063,04[' ]| of so excellent a coachman; and perceiving that the 109:063,05[' ]| animal continued to go on in the same quiet manner, 109:063,06[' ]| without shewing the smallest propensity towards any 109:063,07[' ]| unpleasant vivacity, and (considering its inevitable pace 109:063,08[' ]| was ten miles an hour) by no means alarmingly fast, gave 109:063,09[' ]| herself up to all the enjoyment of air and exercise of the 109:063,10[' ]| most invigorating kind, in a fine mild day of February, 109:063,11[' ]| with the consciousness of safety. A silence of several 109:063,12[' ]| minutes succeeded their first short dialogue; ~~ it was 109:063,13[' ]| broken by Thorpe's saying very abruptly, 109:063,13[E ]| "Old Allen is 109:063,14[E ]| as rich as a Jew ~~ is not he?" 109:063,14[' ]| Catherine did not understand 109:063,15[' ]| him ~~ and he repeated his question, adding in 109:063,16[' ]| explanation, 109:063,16[E ]| "Old Allen, the man you are with." 109:063,17[A ]| "Oh! Mr%*Allen, you mean. Yes, I believe, he is very 109:063,18[A ]| rich." 109:063,19[E ]| "And no children at all?" 109:063,20[A ]| "No ~~ not any." 109:063,21[E ]| "A famous thing for his next heirs. He is \your\ godfather, 109:063,22[E ]| is not he?" 109:063,23[A ]| "My godfather! ~~ no." 109:063,24[E ]| "But you are always very much with them." 109:063,25[A ]| "Yes, very much." 109:063,26[E ]| "Aye, that is what I meant. He seems a good kind of 109:063,27[E ]| old fellow enough, and has lived very well in his time, 109:063,28[E ]| I dare say; he is not gouty for nothing. Does he drink 109:063,29[E ]| his bottle a-day now?" 109:063,30[A ]| "His bottle a-day! ~~ no. Why should you think of 109:063,31[A ]| such a thing? He is a very temperate man, and you 109:063,32[A ]| could not fancy him in liquor last night?" 109:063,33[E ]| "Lord help you! ~~ You women are always thinking of 109:063,34[E ]| men's being in liquor. Why you do not suppose a man 109:063,35[E ]| is overset by a bottle? I am sure of \this\ ~~ that if every*body 109:063,36[E ]| was to drink their bottle a-day, there would not be 109:063,37[E ]| half the disorders in the world there are now. It would 109:063,38[E ]| be a famous good thing for us all." 109:064,01[A ]| "I cannot believe it." 109:064,02[E ]| "Oh! lord, it would be the saving of thousands. There 109:064,03[E ]| is not the hundredth part of the wine consumed in this 109:064,04[E ]| kingdom, that there ought to be. Our foggy climate 109:064,05[E ]| wants help." 109:064,06[A ]| "And yet I have heard that there is a great deal of 109:064,07[A ]| wine drank in Oxford." 109:064,08[E ]| "Oxford! There is no drinking at Oxford now, I 109:064,09[E ]| assure you. Nobody drinks there. You would hardly 109:064,10[E ]| meet with a man who goes beyond his four pints at the 109:064,11[E ]| utmost. Now, for instance, it was reckoned a remarkable 109:064,12[E ]| thing at the last party in my rooms, that upon an average 109:064,13[E ]| we cleared about five pints a head. It was looked upon 109:064,14[E ]| as something out of the common way. \Mine\ is famous 109:064,15[E ]| good stuff to be sure. You would not often meet with 109:064,16[E ]| any*thing like it in Oxford ~~ and that may account for it. 109:064,17[E ]| But this will just give you a notion of the general rate of 109:064,18[E ]| drinking there." 109:064,19[A ]| "Yes, it does give a notion," 109:064,19[' ]| said Catherine, warmly, 109:064,20[A ]| "and that is, that you all drink a great deal more wine 109:064,21[A ]| than I thought you did. However, I am sure James does 109:064,22[A ]| not drink so much." 109:064,23[' ]| This declaration brought on a loud and overpowering 109:064,24[' ]| reply, of which no part was very distinct, except the 109:064,25[' ]| frequent exclamations, amounting almost to oaths, which 109:064,26[' ]| adorned it, and Catherine was left, when it ended, with 109:064,27[' ]| rather a strengthened belief of there being a great deal of 109:064,28[' ]| wine drank in Oxford, and the same happy conviction 109:064,29[' ]| of her brother's comparative sobriety. 109:064,30[' ]| Thorpe's ideas then all reverted to the merits of his 109:064,31[' ]| own equipage, and she was called on to admire the spirit 109:064,32[' ]| and freedom with which his horse moved along, and the 109:064,33[' ]| ease which his paces, as well as the excellence of the 109:064,34[' ]| springs, gave the motion of the carriage. She followed 109:064,35[' ]| him in all his admiration as well as she could. To go 109:064,36[' ]| before, or beyond him was impossible. His knowledge 109:064,37[' ]| and her ignorance of the subject, his rapidity of expression, 109:064,38[' ]| and her diffidence of herself put that out of her power; 109:065,01[' ]| she could strike out nothing new in commendation, but 109:065,02[' ]| she readily echoed whatever he chose to assert, and it 109:065,03[' ]| was finally settled between them without any difficulty, 109:065,04[' ]| that his equipage was altogether the most complete of 109:065,05[' ]| its kind in England, his carriage the neatest, his horse the 109:065,06[' ]| best goer, and himself the best coachman. ~~ 109:065,06[A ]| "You do not 109:065,07[A ]| really think, Mr%*Thorpe," 109:065,07[' ]| said Catherine, venturing after 109:065,08[' ]| some time to consider the matter as entirely decided, and 109:065,09[' ]| to offer some little variation on the subject, 109:065,09[A ]| "that James's 109:065,10[A ]| gig will break down?" 109:065,11[E ]| "Break down! Oh! lord! Did you ever see such 109:065,12[E ]| a little tittuppy thing in your life? There is not a sound 109:065,13[E ]| piece of iron about it. The wheels have been fairly worn 109:065,14[E ]| out these ten years at least ~~ and as for the body! Upon 109:065,15[E ]| my soul, you might shake it to pieces yourself with 109:065,16[E ]| a touch. It is the most devilish little ricketty business 109:065,17[E ]| I ever beheld! ~~ Thank God! we have got a better. 109:065,18[E ]| I would not be bound to go two miles in it for fifty 109:065,19[E ]| thousand pounds." 109:065,20[A ]| "Good heavens!" 109:065,20[' ]| cried Catherine, quite frightened, 109:065,21[A ]| "then pray let us turn back; they will certainly meet 109:065,22[A ]| with an accident if we go on. Do let us turn back, Mr%*Thorpe; 109:065,23[A ]| stop and speak to my brother, and tell him 109:065,24[A ]| how very unsafe it is." 109:065,25[E ]| "Unsafe! Oh, lord! what is there in that? they will 109:065,26[E ]| only get a roll if it does break down; and there is plenty 109:065,27[E ]| of dirt, it will be excellent falling. Oh, curse it! the 109:065,28[E ]| carriage is safe enough, if a man knows how to drive it; 109:065,29[E ]| a thing of that sort in good hands will last above twenty 109:065,30[E ]| years after it is fairly worn out. Lord bless you! I would 109:065,31[E ]| undertake for five pounds to drive it to York and back 109:065,32[E ]| again, without losing a nail." 109:065,33[' ]| Catherine listened with astonishment; she knew not 109:065,34[' ]| how to reconcile two such very different accounts of the 109:065,35[' ]| same thing; for she had not been brought up to understand 109:065,36[' ]| the propensities of a rattle, nor to know to how 109:065,37[' ]| many idle assertions and impudent falsehoods the excess 109:065,38[' ]| of vanity will lead. Her own family were plain matter-of-fact 109:066,01[' ]| people, who seldom aimed at wit of any kind; 109:066,02[' ]| her father, at the utmost, being contented with a pun, 109:066,03[' ]| and her mother with a proverb; they were not in the 109:066,04[' ]| habit therefore of telling lies to increase their importance, 109:066,05[' ]| or of asserting at one moment what they would contradict 109:066,06[' ]| the next. She reflected on the affair for some time in 109:066,07[' ]| much perplexity, and was more than once on the point 109:066,08[' ]| of requesting from Mr%*Thorpe a clearer insight into his 109:066,09[' ]| real opinion on the subject; but she checked herself, 109:066,10[' ]| because it appeared to her that 109:066,10@a | he did not excel in giving 109:066,11@a | those clearer insights, in making those things plain which 109:066,12@a | he had before made ambiguous; 109:066,12[' ]| and, joining to this, the 109:066,13[' ]| consideration, that 109:066,13@a | he would not really suffer his sister 109:066,14@a | and his friend to be exposed to a danger from which he 109:066,15@a | might easily preserve them, 109:066,15[' ]| she concluded at last, that 109:066,16@a | he must know the carriage to be in fact perfectly safe, 109:066,17@a | and therefore would alarm herself no longer. 109:066,17[' ]| By him the 109:066,18[' ]| whole matter seemed entirely forgotten; and all the rest 109:066,19[' ]| of his conversation, or rather talk, began and ended with 109:066,20[' ]| himself and his own concerns. He told her of horses 109:066,21[' ]| which he had bought for a trifle and sold for incredible 109:066,22[' ]| sums; of racing matches, in which his judgment had 109:066,23[' ]| infallibly foretold the winner; of shooting parties, in 109:066,24[' ]| which he had killed more birds (though without having 109:066,25[' ]| one good shot) than all his companions together; and 109:066,26[' ]| described to her some famous day's sport, with the fox-hounds, 109:066,27[' ]| in which his foresight and skill in directing the 109:066,28[' ]| dogs had repaired the mistakes of the most experienced 109:066,29[' ]| huntsman, and in which the boldness of his riding, though 109:066,30[' ]| it had never endangered his own life for a moment, had 109:066,31[' ]| been constantly leading others into difficulties, which he 109:066,32[' ]| calmly concluded had broken the necks of many. 109:066,33[' ]| Little as Catherine was in the habit of judging for herself, 109:066,34[' ]| and unfixed as were her general notions of what men 109:066,35[' ]| ought to be, she could not entirely repress a doubt, while 109:066,36[' ]| she bore with the effusions of his endless conceit, of his 109:066,37[' ]| being altogether completely agreeable. It was a bold 109:066,38[' ]| surmise, for he was Isabella's brother; and she had been 109:067,01[' ]| assured by James, that his manners would recommend 109:067,02[' ]| him to all her sex; but in spite of this, the extreme 109:067,03[' ]| weariness of his company, which crept over her before 109:067,04[' ]| they had been out an hour, and which continued unceasingly 109:067,05[' ]| to increase till they stopped in Pulteney-street 109:067,06[' ]| again, induced her, in some small degree, to resist such 109:067,07[' ]| high authority, and to distrust his powers of giving 109:067,08[' ]| universal pleasure. 109:067,09[' ]| When they arrived at Mrs%*Allen's door, the astonishment 109:067,10[' ]| of Isabella was hardly to be expressed, on finding 109:067,11[' ]| that it was too late in the day for them to attend her 109:067,12[' ]| friend into the house: ~~ 109:067,12[D ]| "Past three o'clock!" 109:067,12[' ]| it was 109:067,13[' ]| inconceivable, incredible, impossible! and she would 109:067,14[' ]| neither believe her own watch, nor her brother's, nor the 109:067,15[' ]| servant's; she would believe no assurance of it founded 109:067,16[' ]| on reason or reality, till Morland produced his watch, 109:067,17[' ]| and ascertained the fact; to have doubted a moment 109:067,18[' ]| longer \then\, would have been equally inconceivable, incredible, 109:067,19[' ]| and impossible; and she could only protest, 109:067,20[' ]| over and over again, that no two hours and a half had 109:067,21[' ]| ever gone off so swiftly before, as Catherine was called 109:067,22[' ]| on to confirm; Catherine could not tell a falsehood even 109:067,23[' ]| to please Isabella; but the latter was spared the misery 109:067,24[' ]| of her friend's dissenting voice, by not waiting for her 109:067,25[' ]| answer. Her own feelings entirely engrossed her; her 109:067,26[' ]| wretchedness was most acute on finding herself obliged to 109:067,27[' ]| go directly home. ~~ 109:067,27@d | It was ages since she had had a 109:067,28@d | moment's conversation with her dearest Catherine; and, 109:067,29@d | though she had such thousands of things to say to her, 109:067,30@d | it appeared as if they were never to be together again; 109:067,31[' ]| so, with smiles of most exquisite misery, and the laughing 109:067,32[' ]| eye of utter despondency, she bade her friend adieu and 109:067,33[' ]| went on. 109:067,34[' ]| Catherine found Mrs%*Allen just returned from all the 109:067,35[' ]| busy idleness of the morning, and was immediately 109:067,36[' ]| greeted with, 109:067,36[I ]| "Well, my dear, here you are;" 109:067,36[' ]| a truth 109:067,37[' ]| which she had no greater inclination than power to dispute; 109:067,38[I ]| "and I hope you have had a pleasant airing?" 109:068,01[A ]| "Yes, ma'am, I thank you; we could not have had 109:068,02[A ]| a nicer day." 109:068,03[I ]| "So Mrs%*Thorpe said; she was vastly pleased at your 109:068,04[I ]| all going." 109:068,05[A ]| "You have seen Mrs%*Thorpe then?" 109:068,06[I ]| "Yes, I went to the Pump-room as soon as you were 109:068,07[I ]| gone, and there I met her, and we had a great deal of 109:068,08[I ]| talk together. She says there was hardly any veal to be 109:068,09[I ]| got at market this morning, it is so uncommonly scarce." 109:068,10[A ]| "Did you see any*body else of our acquaintance?" 109:068,11[I ]| "Yes; we agreed to take a turn in the Crescent, and 109:068,12[I ]| there we met Mrs%*Hughes, and Mr% and Miss*Tilney walking 109:068,13[I ]| with her." 109:068,14[A ]| "Did you indeed? and did they speak to you?" 109:068,15[I ]| "Yes, we walked along the Crescent together for half 109:068,16[I ]| an hour. They seem very agreeable people. Miss*Tilney 109:068,17[I ]| was in a very pretty spotted muslin, and I fancy, by what 109:068,18[I ]| I can learn, that she always dresses very handsomely. 109:068,19[I ]| Mrs%*Hughes talked to me a great deal about the family." 109:068,20[A ]| "And what did she tell you of them?" 109:068,21[I ]| "Oh! a vast deal indeed; she hardly talked of any*thing 109:068,22[I ]| else." 109:068,23[A ]| "Did she tell you what part of Gloucestershire they 109:068,24[A ]| come from?" 109:068,25[I ]| "Yes, she did; but I cannot recollect now. But they 109:068,26[I ]| are very good kind of people, and very rich. Mrs%*Tilney 109:068,27[I ]| was a Miss*Drummond, and she and Mrs%*Hughes were 109:068,28[I ]| school-fellows; and Miss*Drummond had a very large 109:068,29[I ]| fortune; and, when she married, her father gave her 109:068,30[I ]| twenty thousand pounds, and five hundred to buy 109:068,31[I ]| wedding-clothes. Mrs%*Hughes saw all the clothes after 109:068,32[I ]| they came from the warehouse." 109:068,33[A ]| "And are Mr% and Mrs%*Tilney in Bath?" 109:068,34[I ]| "Yes, I fancy they are, but I am not quite certain. 109:068,35[I ]| Upon recollection, however, I have a notion they are both 109:068,36[I ]| dead; at least the mother is; yes, I am sure Mrs%*Tilney 109:068,37[I ]| is dead, because Mrs%*Hughes told me there was a very 109:068,38[I ]| beautiful set of pearls that Mr%*Drummond gave his 109:069,01[I ]| daughter on her wedding-day and that Miss*Tilney has 109:069,02[I ]| got now, for they were put by for her when her mother 109:069,03[I ]| died." 109:069,04[A ]| "And is Mr%*Tilney, my partner, the only son?" 109:069,05[I ]| "I cannot be quite positive about that, my dear; 109:069,06[I ]| I have some idea he is; but, however, he is a very fine 109:069,07[I ]| young man Mrs%*Hughes says, and likely to do very 109:069,08[I ]| well." 109:069,09[' ]| Catherine inquired no further; she had heard enough 109:069,10[' ]| to feel that 109:069,10@a | Mrs%*Allen had no real intelligence to give, 109:069,11[' ]| and that 109:069,11@a | she was most particularly unfortunate herself 109:069,12@a | in having missed such a meeting with both brother and 109:069,13@a | sister. Could she have foreseen such a circumstance, 109:069,14@a | nothing should have persuaded her to go out with the 109:069,15@a | others; 109:069,15[' ]| and, as it was, she could only lament her ill-luck, 109:069,16[' ]| and think over what she had lost, till it was clear to her, 109:069,17[' ]| that 109:069,17@a | the drive had by no means been very pleasant and 109:069,18@a | that John*Thorpe himself was quite disagreeable. 110:070,01[' ]| The Allens, Thorpes, and Morlands, all met in the 110:070,02[' ]| evening at the theatre; and, as Catherine and Isabella 110:070,03[' ]| sat together, there was then an opportunity for the latter 110:070,04[' ]| to utter some few of the many thousand things which 110:070,05[' ]| had been collecting within her for communication, in the 110:070,06[' ]| immeasurable length of time which had divided them. ~~ 110:070,07[D ]| "Oh, heavens! my beloved Catherine, have I got you at 110:070,08[D ]| last?" 110:070,08[' ]| was her address on Catherine's entering the box 110:070,09[' ]| and sitting by her. 110:070,09[D ]| "Now, Mr%*Morland," 110:070,09[' ]| for he was 110:070,10[' ]| close to her on the other side, 110:070,10[D ]| "I shall not speak another 110:070,11[D ]| word to you all the rest of the evening; so I charge you 110:070,12[D ]| not to expect it. My sweetest Catherine, how have you 110:070,13[D ]| been this long age? but I need not ask you, for you look 110:070,14[D ]| delightfully. You really have done your hair in a more 110:070,15[D ]| heavenly style than ever: you mischievous creature, do 110:070,16[D ]| you want to attract every*body? I assure you, my 110:070,17[D ]| brother is quite in love with you already; and as for 110:070,18[D ]| Mr%*Tilney ~~ but \that\ is a settled thing ~~ even \your\ modesty 110:070,19[D ]| cannot doubt his attachment now; his coming back to 110:070,20[D ]| Bath makes it too plain. Oh! what would not I give to 110:070,21[D ]| see him! I really am quite wild with impatience. My 110:070,22[D ]| mother says he is the most delightful young man in the 110:070,23[D ]| world; she saw him this morning you know: you must 110:070,24[D ]| introduce him to me. Is he in the house now? ~~ Look 110:070,25[D ]| about for heaven's sake! I assure you, I can hardly 110:070,26[D ]| exist till I see him." 110:070,27[A ]| "No," 110:070,27[' ]| said Catherine, 110:070,27[A ]| "he is not here; I cannot see 110:070,28[A ]| him any*where." 110:070,29[D ]| "Oh, horrid! am I never to be acquainted with him? 110:070,30[D ]| How do you like my gown? I think it does not look 110:070,31[D ]| amiss; the sleeves were entirely my own thought. Do 110:070,32[D ]| you know I get so immoderately sick of Bath; your 110:070,33[D ]| brother and I were agreeing this morning that, though it 110:071,01[D ]| is vastly well to be here for a few weeks, we would not 110:071,02[D ]| live here for millions. We soon found out that our tastes 110:071,03[D ]| were exactly alike in preferring the country to every 110:071,04[D ]| other place; really, our opinions were so exactly the 110:071,05[D ]| same, it was quite ridiculous! There was not a single 110:071,06[D ]| point in which we differed; I would not have had you 110:071,07[D ]| by for the world; you are such a sly thing, I am sure 110:071,08[D ]| you would have made some droll remark or other about it." 110:071,09[A ]| "No, indeed I should not." 110:071,10[D ]| "Oh, yes you would indeed; I know you better than 110:071,11[D ]| you know yourself. You would have told us that we 110:071,12[D ]| seemed born for each other, or some nonsense of that 110:071,13[D ]| kind, which would have distressed me beyond conception; 110:071,14[D ]| my cheeks would have been as red as your roses; I would 110:071,15[D ]| not have had you by for the world." 110:071,16[A ]| "Indeed you do me injustice; I would not have made 110:071,17[A ]| so improper a remark upon any account; and besides, 110:071,18[A ]| I am sure it would never have entered my head." 110:071,19[' ]| Isabella smiled incredulously, and talked the rest of 110:071,20[' ]| the evening to James. 110:071,21[' ]| Catherine's resolution of endeavouring to meet Miss*Tilney 110:071,22[' ]| again continued in full force the next morning; 110:071,23[' ]| and till the usual moment of going to the Pump-room, 110:071,24[' ]| she felt some alarm from the dread of a second prevention. 110:071,25[' ]| But nothing of that kind occurred, no visitors appeared 110:071,26[' ]| to delay them, and they all three set off in good time for 110:071,27[' ]| the Pump-room, where the ordinary course of events and 110:071,28[' ]| conversation took place; Mr%*Allen, after drinking his 110:071,29[' ]| glass of water, joined some gentlemen to talk over the 110:071,30[' ]| politics of the day and compare the accounts of their 110:071,31[' ]| newspapers; and the ladies walked about together, 110:071,32[' ]| noticing every new face, and almost every new bonnet in 110:071,33[' ]| the room. The female part of the Thorpe family, attended 110:071,34[' ]| by James*Morland, appeared among the crowd in less 110:071,35[' ]| than a quarter of an hour, and Catherine immediately 110:071,36[' ]| took her usual place by the side of her friend. James, 110:071,37[' ]| who was now in constant attendance, maintained a similar 110:071,38[' ]| position, and separating themselves from the rest of their 110:072,01[' ]| party, they walked in that manner for some time, till 110:072,02[' ]| Catherine began to doubt the happiness of a situation 110:072,03[' ]| which confining her entirely to her friend and brother, 110:072,04[' ]| gave her very little share in the notice of either. They 110:072,05[' ]| were always engaged in some sentimental discussion or 110:072,06[' ]| lively dispute, but their sentiment was conveyed in such 110:072,07[' ]| whispering voices, and their vivacity attended with so 110:072,08[' ]| much laughter, that though Catherine's supporting opinion 110:072,09[' ]| was not unfrequently called for by one or the other, she 110:072,10[' ]| was never able to give any, from not having heard a word 110:072,11[' ]| of the subject. At length however she was empowered to 110:072,12[' ]| disengage herself from her friend, by the avowed necessity 110:072,13[' ]| of speaking to Miss*Tilney, whom she most joyfully saw 110:072,14[' ]| just entering the room with Mrs%*Hughes, and whom she 110:072,15[' ]| instantly joined, with a firmer determination to be 110:072,16[' ]| acquainted, than she might have had courage to command, 110:072,17[' ]| had she not been urged by the disappointment of 110:072,18[' ]| the day before. Miss*Tilney met her with great civility, 110:072,19[' ]| returned her advances with equal good*will, and they 110:072,20[' ]| continued talking together as long as both parties remained 110:072,21[' ]| in the room; and though in all probability not 110:072,22[' ]| an observation was made, nor an expression used by 110:072,23[' ]| either which had not been made and used some thousands 110:072,24[' ]| of times before, under that roof, in every Bath season, 110:072,25[' ]| yet the merit of their being spoken with simplicity and 110:072,26[' ]| truth, and without personal conceit, might be something 110:072,27[' ]| uncommon. ~~ 110:072,28[A ]| "How well your brother dances!" 110:072,28[' ]| was an artless 110:072,29[' ]| exclamation of Catherine's towards the close of their conversation, 110:072,30[' ]| which at once surprized and amused her 110:072,31[' ]| companion. 110:072,32[C ]| "Henry!" 110:072,32[' ]| she replied with a smile. 110:072,32[C ]| "Yes, he does 110:072,33[C ]| dance very well." 110:072,34[A ]| "He must have thought it very odd to hear me say 110:072,35[A ]| I was engaged the other evening, when he saw me sitting 110:072,36[A ]| down. But I really had been engaged the whole day to 110:072,37[A ]| Mr%*Thorpe." 110:072,37[' ]| Miss*Tilney could only bow. 110:072,37[A ]| "You 110:072,38[A ]| cannot think," 110:072,38[' ]| added Catherine after a moment's silence, 110:073,01[A ]| "how surprized I was to see him again. I felt so sure 110:073,02[A ]| of his being quite gone away." 110:073,03[C ]| "When Henry had the pleasure of seeing you before, 110:073,04[C ]| he was in Bath but for a couple of days. He came only 110:073,05[C ]| to engage lodgings for us." 110:073,06[A ]| "\That\ never occurred to me; and of course, not seeing 110:073,07[A ]| him any*where, I thought he must be gone. Was not the 110:073,08[A ]| young lady he danced with on Monday a Miss*Smith?" 110:073,09[C ]| "Yes, an acquaintance of Mrs%*Hughes." 110:073,10[A ]| "I dare say she was very glad to dance. Do you think 110:073,11[A ]| her pretty?" 110:073,12[C ]| "Not very." 110:073,13[A ]| "He never comes to the Pump-room, I suppose?" 110:073,14[C ]| "Yes, sometimes; but he has rid out this morning 110:073,15[C ]| with my father." 110:073,16[' ]| Mrs%*Hughes now joined them, and asked Miss*Tilney 110:073,17[' ]| if she was ready to go. 110:073,17[A ]| "I hope I shall have the pleasure 110:073,18[A ]| of seeing you again soon," 110:073,18[' ]| said Catherine. 110:073,18[A ]| "Shall you 110:073,19[A ]| be at the cotillion ball to-morrow?" 110:073,20[C ]| "Perhaps we ~~ yes, I think we certainly shall." 110:073,21[A ]| "I am glad of it, for we shall all be there." ~~ 110:073,21[' ]| This 110:073,22[' ]| civility was duly returned; and they parted ~~ on Miss*Tilney's 110:073,23[' ]| side with some knowledge of her new acquaintance's 110:073,24[' ]| feelings, and on Catherine's, without the smallest 110:073,25[' ]| consciousness of having explained them. 110:073,26[' ]| She went home very happy. The morning had answered 110:073,27[' ]| all her hopes, and the evening of the following day was 110:073,28[' ]| now the object of expectation, the future good. What 110:073,29[' ]| gown and what head-dress she should wear on the occasion 110:073,30[' ]| became her chief concern. She cannot be justified in it. 110:073,31[' ]| Dress is at all times a frivolous distinction, and excessive 110:073,32[' ]| solicitude about it often destroys its own aim. Catherine 110:073,33[' ]| knew all this very well; her great aunt had read her 110:073,34[' ]| a lecture on the subject only the Christmas before; and 110:073,35[' ]| yet she lay awake ten minutes on Wednesday night 110:073,36[' ]| debating between her spotted and her tamboured muslin, 110:073,37[' ]| and nothing but the shortness of the time prevented her 110:073,38[' ]| buying a new one for the evening. This would have been 110:074,01[' ]| an error in judgment, great though not uncommon, from 110:074,02[' ]| which one of the other sex rather than her own, a brother 110:074,03[' ]| rather than a great aunt might have warned her, for man 110:074,04[' ]| only can be aware of the insensibility of man towards 110:074,05[' ]| a new gown. It would be mortifying to the feelings of 110:074,06[' ]| many ladies, could they be made to understand how little 110:074,07[' ]| the heart of man is affected by what is costly or new in 110:074,08[' ]| their attire; how little it is biassed by the texture of their 110:074,09[' ]| muslin, and how unsusceptible of peculiar tenderness 110:074,10[' ]| towards the spotted, the sprigged, the mull or the jackonet. 110:074,11[' ]| Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone. No man 110:074,12[' ]| will admire her the more, no woman will like her the 110:074,13[' ]| better for it. Neatness and fashion are enough for the 110:074,14[' ]| former, and a something of shabbiness or impropriety 110:074,15[' ]| will be most endearing to the latter. ~~ But not one of 110:074,16[' ]| these grave reflections troubled the tranquillity of 110:074,17[' ]| Catherine. 110:074,18[' ]| She entered the rooms on Thursday evening with feelings 110:074,19[' ]| very different from what had attended her thither 110:074,20[' ]| the Monday before. She had then been exulting in her 110:074,21[' ]| engagement to Thorpe, and was now chiefly anxious to 110:074,22[' ]| avoid his sight, lest he should engage her again; for 110:074,23[' ]| though she could not, dared not expect that Mr%*Tilney 110:074,24[' ]| should ask her a third time to dance, her wishes, hopes 110:074,25[' ]| and plans all centered in nothing less. Every young lady 110:074,26[' ]| may feel for my heroine in this critical moment, for every 110:074,27[' ]| young lady has at some time or other known the same 110:074,28[' ]| agitation. All have been, or at least all have believed 110:074,29[' ]| themselves to be, in danger from the pursuit of some*one 110:074,30[' ]| whom they wished to avoid; and all have been anxious 110:074,31[' ]| for the attentions of some*one whom they wished to 110:074,32[' ]| please. As soon as they were joined by the Thorpes, 110:074,33[' ]| Catherine's agony began; she fidgetted about if John*Thorpe 110:074,34[' ]| came towards her, hid herself as much as possible 110:074,35[' ]| from his view, and when he spoke to her pretended not 110:074,36[' ]| to hear him. The cotillions were over, the country-dancing 110:074,37[' ]| beginning, and she saw nothing of the Tilneys. 110:074,38[D ]| "Do not be frightened, my dear Catherine," 110:074,38[' ]| whispered 110:075,01[' ]| Isabella, 110:075,01[D ]| "but I am really going to dance with your 110:075,02[D ]| brother again. I declare positively it is quite shocking. 110:075,03[D ]| I tell him he ought to be ashamed of himself, but you and 110:075,04[D ]| John must keep us in countenance. Make haste, my dear 110:075,05[D ]| creature, and come to us. John is just walked off, but he 110:075,06[D ]| will be back in a moment." 110:075,07[' ]| Catherine had neither time nor inclination to answer. 110:075,08[' ]| The others walked away, John*Thorpe was still in view, 110:075,09[' ]| and she gave herself up for lost. That she might not 110:075,10[' ]| appear, however, to observe or expect him, she kept her 110:075,11[' ]| eyes intently fixed on her fan; and a self-condemnation 110:075,12[' ]| for her folly, in supposing that among such a crowd they 110:075,13[' ]| should even meet with the Tilneys in any reasonable 110:075,14[' ]| time, had just passed through her mind, when she suddenly 110:075,15[' ]| found herself addressed and again solicited to 110:075,16[' ]| dance, by Mr%*Tilney himself. With what sparkling eyes 110:075,17[' ]| and ready motion she granted his request, and with how 110:075,18[' ]| pleasing a flutter of heart she went with him to the set, 110:075,19[' ]| may be easily imagined. To escape, and, as she believed, 110:075,20[' ]| so narrowly escape John*Thorpe, and to be asked, so 110:075,21[' ]| immediately on his joining her, asked by Mr%*Tilney, as 110:075,22[' ]| if he had sought her on purpose! ~~ it did not appear to 110:075,23[' ]| her that life could supply any greater felicity. 110:075,24[' ]| Scarcely had they worked themselves into the quiet 110:075,25[' ]| possession of a place, however, when her attention was 110:075,26[' ]| claimed by John*Thorpe, who stood behind her. 110:075,26[E ]| "Hey-day, 110:075,27[E ]| Miss*Morland!" 110:075,27[' ]| said he, 110:075,27[E ]| "what is the meaning of 110:075,28[E ]| this? ~~ I thought you and I were to dance together." 110:075,29[A ]| "I wonder you should think so, for you never asked 110:075,30[A ]| me." 110:075,30[E ]| "That is a good one, by Jove! ~~ I asked you as 110:075,31[E ]| soon as I came into the room, and I was just going to 110:075,32[E ]| ask you again, but when I turned round, you were gone! 110:075,33[E ]| ~~ this is a cursed shabby trick! I only came for the sake 110:075,34[E ]| of dancing with \you\, and I firmly believe you were 110:075,35[E ]| engaged to me ever since Monday. Yes; I remember, 110:075,36[E ]| I asked you while you were waiting in the lobby for your 110:075,37[E ]| cloak. And here have I been telling all my acquaintance 110:075,38[E ]| that I was going to dance with the prettiest girl in the 110:076,01[E ]| room; and when they see you standing up with somebody 110:076,02[E ]| else, they will quiz me famously." 110:076,03[A ]| "Oh, no; they will never think of \me\, after such 110:076,04[A ]| a description as that." 110:076,05[E ]| "By heavens, if they do not, I will kick them out of 110:076,06[E ]| the room for blockheads. What chap have you there?" 110:076,07[' ]| Catherine satisfied his curiosity. 110:076,07[E ]| "Tilney," 110:076,07[' ]| he repeated, 110:076,08[E ]| "Hum ~~ I do not know him. A good figure of a man; 110:076,09[E ]| well put together. ~~ Does he want a horse? ~~ Here is 110:076,10[E ]| a friend of mine, Sam*Fletcher, has got one to sell that 110:076,11[E ]| would suit any*body. A famous clever animal for the 110:076,12[E ]| road ~~ only forty guineas. I had fifty minds to buy it 110:076,13[E ]| myself, for it is one of my maxims always to buy a good 110:076,14[E ]| horse when I meet with one; but it would not answer 110:076,15[E ]| my purpose, it would not do for the field. I would give 110:076,16[E ]| any money for a real good hunter. I have three now, the 110:076,17[E ]| best that ever were back'd. I would not take eight 110:076,18[E ]| hundred guineas for them. Fletcher and I mean to get 110:076,19[E ]| a house in Leicestershire, against the next season. It is 110:076,20[E ]| so d** uncomfortable, living at an inn." 110:076,21[' ]| This was the last sentence by which he could weary 110:076,22[' ]| Catherine's attention, for he was just then born off by 110:076,23[' ]| the resistless pressure of a long string of passing ladies. 110:076,24[' ]| Her partner now drew near, and said. 110:076,24[B ]| "That gentleman 110:076,25[B ]| would have put me out of patience, had he staid with 110:076,26[B ]| you half a minute longer. He has no business to withdraw 110:076,27[B ]| the attention of my partner from me. We have 110:076,28[B ]| entered into a contract of mutual agreeableness for the 110:076,29[B ]| space of an evening, and all our agreeableness belongs 110:076,30[B ]| solely to each other for that time. Nobody can fasten 110:076,31[B ]| themselves on the notice of one, without injuring the 110:076,32[B ]| rights of the other. I consider a country-dance as an 110:076,33[B ]| emblem of marriage. Fidelity and complaisance are 110:076,34[B ]| the principal duties of both; and those men who 110:076,35[B ]| do not chuse to dance or marry themselves, have no 110:076,36[B ]| business with the partners or wives of their neighbours." 110:076,38[A ]| "But they are such very different things! ~~" 110:077,01[B ]| " ~~ That you think they cannot be compared together." 110:077,02[B ]| 110:077,03[A ]| "To be sure not. People that marry can never part, 110:077,04[A ]| but must go and keep house together. People that dance, 110:077,05[A ]| only stand opposite each other in a long room for half an 110:077,06[A ]| hour." 110:077,07[B ]| "And such is your definition of matrimony and dancing. 110:077,08[B ]| Taken in that light certainly, their resemblance is 110:077,09[B ]| not striking; but I think I could place them in such 110:077,10[B ]| a view. ~~ You will allow, that in both, man has the 110:077,11[B ]| advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal; 110:077,12[B ]| that in both, it is an engagement between man and 110:077,13[B ]| woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when 110:077,14[B ]| once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other 110:077,15[B ]| till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty, 110:077,16[B ]| each to endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing 110:077,17[B ]| that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and 110:077,18[B ]| their best interest to keep their own imaginations from 110:077,19[B ]| wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or 110:077,20[B ]| fancying that they should have been better off with any*one 110:077,21[B ]| else. You will allow all this?" 110:077,22[A ]| "Yes, to be sure, as you state it, all this sounds very 110:077,23[A ]| well; but still they are so very different. ~~ I cannot look 110:077,24[A ]| upon them at all in the same light, nor think the same 110:077,25[A ]| duties belong to them." 110:077,26[B ]| "In one respect, there certainly is a difference. In 110:077,27[B ]| marriage, the man is supposed to provide for the support 110:077,28[B ]| of the woman; the woman to make the home agreeable 110:077,29[B ]| to the man; he is to purvey, and she is to smile. But in 110:077,30[B ]| dancing, their duties are exactly changed; the agreeableness, 110:077,31[B ]| the compliance are expected from him, while she 110:077,32[B ]| furnishes the fan and the lavender*water. \That\, I suppose, 110:077,33[B ]| was the difference of duties which struck you, as rendering 110:077,34[B ]| the conditions incapable of comparison." 110:077,35[A ]| "No, indeed, I never thought of that." 110:077,36[B ]| "Then I am quite at a loss. One thing, however, 110:077,37[B ]| I must observe. This disposition on your side is rather 110:077,38[B ]| alarming. You totally disallow any similarity in the 110:078,01[B ]| obligations; and may I not thence infer, that your 110:078,02[B ]| notions of the duties of the dancing state are not so strict 110:078,03[B ]| as your partner might wish? Have I not reason to fear, 110:078,04[B ]| that if the gentleman who spoke to you just now were to 110:078,05[B ]| return, or if any other gentleman were to address you, 110:078,06[B ]| there would be nothing to restrain you from conversing 110:078,07[B ]| with him as long as you chose?" 110:078,08[A ]| "Mr%*Thorpe is such a very particular friend of my 110:078,09[A ]| brother's, that if he talks to me, I must talk to him 110:078,10[A ]| again; but there are hardly three young men in the room 110:078,11[A ]| besides him, that I have any acquaintance with." 110:078,12[B ]| "And is that to be my only security? alas, alas!" 110:078,13[A ]| "Nay, I am sure you cannot have a better; for if I do 110:078,14[A ]| not know any*body, it is impossible for me to talk to 110:078,15[A ]| them; and, besides, I do not \want\ to talk to any*body." 110:078,16[B ]| "Now you have given me a security worth having; 110:078,17[B ]| and I shall proceed with courage. Do you find Bath as 110:078,18[B ]| agreeable as when I had the honour of making the inquiry 110:078,19[B ]| before?" 110:078,20[A ]| "Yes, quite ~~ more so, indeed." 110:078,21[B ]| "More so! ~~ Take care, or you will forget to be tired 110:078,22[B ]| of it at the proper time. ~~ You ought to be tired at the 110:078,23[B ]| end of six weeks." 110:078,24[A ]| "I do not think I should be tired, if I were to stay here 110:078,25[A ]| six months." 110:078,26[B ]| "Bath, compared with London, has little variety, and 110:078,27[B ]| so every*body finds out every year. 110:078,27@x | ""For six weeks, 110:078,28@x | I allow Bath is pleasant enough; but beyond \that\, it is 110:078,29@x | the most tiresome place in the world."" 110:078,29[B ]| You would be 110:078,30[B ]| told so by people of all descriptions, who come regularly 110:078,31[B ]| every winter, lengthen their six weeks into ten or twelve, 110:078,32[B ]| and go away at last because they can afford to stay no 110:078,33[B ]| longer." 110:078,34[A ]| "Well, other people must judge for themselves, and 110:078,35[A ]| those who go to London may think nothing of Bath. 110:078,36[A ]| But I, who live in a small retired village in the country, 110:078,37[A ]| can never find greater sameness in such a place as this, 110:078,38[A ]| than in my own home; for here are a variety of amusements, 110:079,01[A ]| a variety of things to be seen and done all day 110:079,02[A ]| long, which I can know nothing of there." 110:079,03[B ]| "You are not fond of the country." 110:079,04[A ]| "Yes, I am. I have always lived there, and always 110:079,05[A ]| been very happy. But certainly there is much more 110:079,06[A ]| sameness in a country life than in a Bath life. One day 110:079,07[A ]| in the country is exactly like another." 110:079,08[B ]| "But then you spend your time so much more rationally 110:079,09[B ]| in the country." 110:079,10[A ]| "Do I?" 110:079,11[B ]| "Do you not?" 110:079,12[A ]| "I do not believe there is much difference." 110:079,13[B ]| "Here you are in pursuit only of amusement all day 110:079,14[B ]| long." 110:079,15[A ]| "And so I am at home ~~ only I do not find so much 110:079,16[A ]| of it. I walk about here, and so I do there; ~~ but here 110:079,17[A ]| I see a variety of people in every street, and there I can 110:079,18[A ]| only go and call on Mrs%*Allen." 110:079,19[' ]| Mr%*Tilney was very much amused. 110:079,19[B ]| "Only go and call 110:079,20[B ]| on Mrs%*Allen!" 110:079,20[' ]| he repeated. 110:079,20[B ]| "What a picture of intellectual 110:079,21[B ]| poverty! However, when you sink into this 110:079,22[B ]| abyss again, you will have more to say. You will be able 110:079,23[B ]| to talk of Bath, and of all that you did here." 110:079,24[A ]| "Oh! yes. I shall never be in want of something to 110:079,25[A ]| talk of again to Mrs%*Allen, or any*body else. I really 110:079,26[A ]| believe I shall always be talking of Bath, when I am at 110:079,27[A ]| home again ~~ I \do\ like it so very much. If I could but 110:079,28[A ]| have papa and mamma, and the rest of them here, I suppose 110:079,29[A ]| I should be too happy! James's coming (my eldest 110:079,30[A ]| brother) is quite delightful ~~ and especially as it turns 110:079,31[A ]| out, that the very family we are just got so intimate with, 110:079,32[A ]| are his intimate friends already. Oh! who can ever be 110:079,33[A ]| tired of Bath?" 110:079,34[B ]| "Not those who bring such fresh feelings of every sort 110:079,35[B ]| to it, as you do. But papas and mammas, and brothers 110:079,36[B ]| and intimate friends are a good deal gone by, to most of 110:079,37[B ]| the frequenters of Bath ~~ and the honest relish of balls 110:079,38[B ]| and plays, and every-day sights, is past with them." 110:080,01[' ]| Here their conversation closed; the demands of the 110:080,02[' ]| dance becoming now too importunate for a divided 110:080,03[' ]| attention. 110:080,04[' ]| Soon after their reaching the bottom of the set, Catherine 110:080,05[' ]| perceived herself to be earnestly regarded by a gentleman 110:080,06[' ]| who stood among the lookers-on, immediately 110:080,07[' ]| behind her partner. He was a very handsome man, of 110:080,08[' ]| a commanding aspect, past the bloom, but not past the 110:080,09[' ]| vigour of life; and with his eye still directed towards 110:080,10[' ]| her, she saw him presently address Mr%*Tilney in a familiar 110:080,11[' ]| whisper. Confused by his notice, and blushing from the 110:080,12[' ]| fear of its being excited by something wrong in her appearance, 110:080,13[' ]| she turned away her head. But while she did so, 110:080,14[' ]| the gentleman retreated, and her partner coming nearer, 110:080,15[' ]| said, 110:080,15[B ]| "I see that you guess what I have just been asked. 110:080,16[B ]| That gentleman knows your name, and you have a right 110:080,17[B ]| to know his. It is General*Tilney, my father." 110:080,18[' ]| Catherine's answer was only 110:080,18[A ]| "Oh!" ~~ 110:080,18[' ]| but it was an 110:080,19[' ]| "Oh!" expressing every*thing needful; attention to his 110:080,20[' ]| words, and perfect reliance on their truth. With real 110:080,21[' ]| interest and strong admiration did her eye now follow the 110:080,22[' ]| General, as he moved through the crowd, and 110:080,22@a | "How 110:080,23@a | handsome a family they are!" 110:080,23[' ]| was her secret remark. 110:080,24[' ]| In chatting with Miss*Tilney before the evening concluded, 110:080,25[' ]| a new source of felicity arose to her. She had 110:080,26[' ]| never taken a country walk since her arrival in Bath. 110:080,27[' ]| Miss*Tilney, to whom all the commonly-frequented 110:080,28[' ]| environs were familiar, spoke of them in terms which 110:080,29[' ]| made her all eagerness to know them too; and on her 110:080,30[' ]| openly fearing that she might find nobody to go with 110:080,31[' ]| her, it was proposed by the brother and sister that they 110:080,32[' ]| should join in a walk, some morning or other. 110:080,32[A ]| "I shall 110:080,33[A ]| like it," 110:080,33[' ]| she cried, 110:080,33[A ]| "beyond any*thing in the world; and 110:080,34[A ]| do not let us put it off ~~ let us go to-morrow." 110:080,34[' ]| This was 110:080,35[' ]| readily agreed to, with only a proviso of Miss*Tilney's, 110:080,36[' ]| that it did not rain, which Catherine was sure it would 110:080,37[' ]| not. At twelve o'clock, they were to call for her in 110:080,38[' ]| Pulteney-street ~~ and 110:080,38[A ]| "remember ~~ twelve o'clock," 110:080,38[' ]| was 110:081,01[' ]| her parting speech to her new friend. Of her other, her 110:081,02[' ]| older, her more established friend, Isabella of whose 110:081,03[' ]| fidelity and worth she had enjoyed a fortnight's experience, 110:081,04[' ]| she scarcely saw any*thing during the evening. Yet, 110:081,05[' ]| though longing to make her acquainted with her happiness, 110:081,06[' ]| she cheerfully submitted to the wish of Mr%*Allen, 110:081,07[' ]| which took them rather early away, and her spirits 110:081,08[' ]| danced within her, as she danced in her chair all the 110:081,09[' ]| way home. 111:082,01[' ]| The morrow brought a very sober looking morning; 111:082,02[' ]| the sun making only a few efforts to appear; and Catherine 111:082,03[' ]| augured from it, every*thing most favourable to her 111:082,04[' ]| wishes. 111:082,04@a | A bright morning so early in the year, she 111:082,05@a | allowed would generally turn to rain, but a cloudy one 111:082,06@a | foretold improvement as the day advanced. 111:082,06[' ]| She applied 111:082,07[' ]| to Mr%*Allen for confirmation of her hopes, but Mr%*Allen 111:082,08[' ]| not having his own skies and barometer about him, 111:082,09[' ]| declined giving any absolute promise of sunshine. She 111:082,10[' ]| applied to Mrs%*Allen, and Mrs%*Allen's opinion was more 111:082,11[' ]| positive. 111:082,11[I ]| "She had no doubt in the world of its being 111:082,12[I ]| a very fine day, if the clouds would only go off, and the 111:082,13[I ]| sun keep out." 111:082,14[' ]| At about eleven o'clock however, a few specks of small 111:082,15[' ]| rain upon the windows caught Catherine's watchful eye, 111:082,16[' ]| and 111:082,16[A ]| "Oh! dear, I do believe it will be wet," 111:082,16[' ]| broke from 111:082,17[' ]| her in a most desponding tone. 111:082,18[I ]| "I thought how it would be," 111:082,18[' ]| said Mrs%*Allen. 111:082,19[A ]| "No walk for me to-day," 111:082,19[' ]| sighed Catherine; ~~ 111:082,19[A ]| "but 111:082,20[A ]| perhaps it may come to nothing, or it may hold up before 111:082,21[A ]| twelve." 111:082,22[I ]| "Perhaps it may, but then, my dear, it will be so 111:082,23[I ]| dirty." 111:082,24[A ]| "Oh! that will not signify; I never mind dirt." 111:082,25[I ]| "No," 111:082,25[' ]| replied her friend very placidly, 111:082,25[I ]| "I know you 111:082,26[I ]| never mind dirt." 111:082,27[' ]| After a short pause, 111:082,27[A ]| "It comes on faster and faster!" 111:082,28[' ]| said Catherine, as she stood watching at a window. 111:082,29[I ]| "So it does indeed. If it keeps raining, the streets will 111:082,30[I ]| be very wet." 111:082,31[A ]| "There are four umbrellas up already. How I hate the 111:082,32[A ]| sight of an umbrella!" 111:083,01[I ]| "They are disagreeable things to carry. I would much 111:083,02[I ]| rather take a chair at any time." 111:083,03[A ]| "It was such a nice looking morning! I felt so convinced 111:083,04[A ]| it would be dry!" 111:083,05[I ]| "Any*body would have thought so indeed. There will 111:083,06[I ]| be very few people in the Pump-room, if it rains all the 111:083,07[I ]| morning. I hope Mr%*Allen will put on his great*coat 111:083,08[I ]| when he goes, but I dare say he will not, for he had 111:083,09[I ]| rather do any*thing in the world than walk out in a great*coat; 111:083,10[I ]| I wonder he should dislike it, it must be so comfortable." 111:083,11[I ]| 111:083,12[' ]| The rain continued ~~ fast, though not heavy. Catherine 111:083,13[' ]| went every five minutes to the clock, threatening on each 111:083,14[' ]| return that, if it still kept on raining another five minutes, 111:083,15[' ]| she would give up the matter as hopeless. The clock 111:083,16[' ]| struck twelve, and it still rained. ~~ 111:083,16[I ]| "You will not be able 111:083,17[I ]| to go, my dear." 111:083,18[A ]| "I do not quite despair yet. I shall not give it up till 111:083,19[A ]| a quarter after twelve. This is just the time of day for 111:083,20[A ]| it to clear up, and I do think it looks a little lighter. 111:083,21[A ]| There, it is twenty minutes after twelve, and now I \shall\ 111:083,22[A ]| give it up entirely. Oh! that we had such weather here 111:083,23[A ]| as they had at Udolpho, or at least in Tuscany and the 111:083,24[A ]| South of France! ~~ the night that poor St%*Aubin died! ~~ 111:083,25[A ]| such beautiful weather!" 111:083,26[' ]| At half past twelve, when Catherine's anxious attention 111:083,27[' ]| to the weather was over, and she could no longer claim 111:083,28[' ]| any merit from its amendment, the sky began voluntarily 111:083,29[' ]| to clear. A gleam of sunshine took her quite by surprize; 111:083,30[' ]| she looked round; the clouds were parting, and she 111:083,31[' ]| instantly returned to the window to watch over and 111:083,32[' ]| encourage the happy appearance. Ten minutes more 111:083,33[' ]| made it certain that a bright afternoon would succeed, 111:083,34[' ]| and justified the opinion of Mrs%*Allen, who had 111:083,34[I ]| "always 111:083,35[I ]| thought it would clear up." 111:083,35[' ]| But whether Catherine might 111:083,36[' ]| still expect her friends, whether there had not been too 111:083,37[' ]| much rain for Miss*Tilney to venture, must yet be a 111:083,38[' ]| question. 111:084,01[' ]| It was too dirty for Mrs%*Allen to accompany her 111:084,02[' ]| husband to the Pump-room; he accordingly set off by 111:084,03[' ]| himself, and Catherine had barely watched him down 111:084,04[' ]| the street, when her notice was claimed by the approach 111:084,05[' ]| of the same two open carriages, containing the same three 111:084,06[' ]| people that had surprized her so much a few mornings 111:084,07[' ]| back. 111:084,08[A ]| "Isabella, my brother, and Mr%*Thorpe, I declare! 111:084,09[A ]| They are coming for me perhaps ~~ but I shall not go ~~ 111:084,10[A ]| I cannot go indeed, for you know Miss*Tilney may still 111:084,11[A ]| call." 111:084,11[' ]| Mrs%*Allen agreed to it. John*Thorpe was soon 111:084,12[' ]| with them, and his voice was with them yet sooner, for 111:084,13[' ]| on the stairs he was calling out to Miss*Morland to be 111:084,14[' ]| quick. 111:084,14[E ]| "Make haste! make haste!" 111:084,14[' ]| as he threw open 111:084,15[' ]| the door ~~ 111:084,15[E ]| "put on your hat this moment ~~ there is no 111:084,16[E ]| time to be lost ~~ we are going to Bristol. ~~ How d'ye do, 111:084,17[E ]| Mrs%*Allen?" 111:084,18[A ]| "To Bristol! Is not that a great way off? ~~ But, however, 111:084,19[A ]| I cannot go with you to-day, because I am engaged; 111:084,20[A ]| I expect some friends every moment." 111:084,20[' ]| This was of 111:084,21[' ]| course vehemently talked down as no reason at all; 111:084,22[' ]| Mrs%*Allen was called on to second him, and the two 111:084,23[' ]| others walked in, to give their assistance. 111:084,23[D ]| "My sweetest 111:084,24[D ]| Catherine, is not this delightful? We shall have a most 111:084,25[D ]| heavenly drive. You are to thank your brother and me 111:084,26[D ]| for the scheme; it darted into our heads at breakfast-time, 111:084,27[D ]| I verily believe at the same instant; and we should 111:084,28[D ]| have been off two hours ago if it had not been for this 111:084,29[D ]| detestable rain. But it does not signify, the nights are 111:084,30[D ]| moonlight, and we shall do delightfully. Oh! I am in 111:084,31[D ]| such extasies at the thoughts of a little country air and 111:084,32[D ]| quiet! ~~ so much better than going to the Lower*Rooms. 111:084,33[D ]| We shall drive directly to Clifton and dine there; and, 111:084,34[D ]| as soon as dinner is over, if there is time for it, go on to 111:084,35[D ]| Kingsweston." 111:084,36[K ]| "I doubt our being able to do so much," 111:084,36[' ]| said Morland. 111:084,37[E ]| "You croaking fellow!" 111:084,37[' ]| cried Thorpe, 111:084,37[E ]| "we shall be 111:084,38[E ]| able to do ten times more. Kingsweston! aye, and Blaize*Castle 111:085,01[E ]| too, and any*thing else we can hear of; but here 111:085,02[E ]| is your sister says she will not go." 111:085,03[A ]| "Blaize*Castle!" 111:085,03[' ]| cried Catherine; 111:085,03[A ]| "what is that?" 111:085,04[E ]| "The finest place in England ~~ worth going fifty miles 111:085,05[E ]| at any time to see." 111:085,06[A ]| "What, is it really a castle, an old castle?" 111:085,07[E ]| "The oldest in the kingdom." 111:085,08[A ]| "But is it like what one reads of?" 111:085,09[E ]| "Exactly ~~ the very same." 111:085,10[A ]| "But now really ~~ are there towers and long galleries?" 111:085,11[A ]| 111:085,12[E ]| "By dozens." 111:085,13[A ]| "Then I should like to see it; but I cannot ~~ I 111:085,14[A ]| cannot go." 111:085,15[D ]| "Not go! ~~ my beloved creature, what do you mean?" 111:085,16[A ]| "I cannot go, because" ~~ 111:085,16[' ]| looking down as she 111:085,17[' ]| spoke, fearful of Isabella's smile) 111:085,17[A ]| "I expect Miss*Tilney 111:085,18[A ]| and her brother to call on me to take a country walk. 111:085,19[A ]| They promised to come at twelve, only it rained; but 111:085,20[A ]| now, as it is so fine, I dare say they will be here soon." 111:085,21[E ]| "Not they indeed," 111:085,21[' ]| cried Thorpe; 111:085,21[E ]| "for, as we turned 111:085,22[E ]| into Broad-street, I saw them ~~ does he not drive a 111:085,23[E ]| phaeton with bright chesnuts?" 111:085,24[A ]| "I do not know indeed." 111:085,25[E ]| "Yes, I know he does; I saw him. You are talking 111:085,26[E ]| of the man you danced with last night, are not you?" 111:085,27[A ]| "Yes." 111:085,28[E ]| "Well, I saw him at that moment turn up the Lansdown*Road, 111:085,29[E ]| ~~ driving a smart-looking girl." 111:085,30[A ]| "Did you indeed?" 111:085,31[E ]| "Did upon my soul; knew him again directly, and he 111:085,32[E ]| seemed to have got some very pretty cattle too." 111:085,33[A ]| "It is very odd! but I suppose they thought it would 111:085,34[A ]| be too dirty for a walk." 111:085,35[E ]| "And well they might, for I never saw so much dirt in 111:085,36[E ]| my life. Walk! you could no more walk than you could 111:085,37[E ]| fly! it has not been so dirty the whole winter; it is 111:085,38[E ]| ancle-deep every*where." 111:086,01[' ]| Isabella corroborated it: ~~ 111:086,01[D ]| "My dearest Catherine, you 111:086,02[D ]| cannot form an idea of the dirt; come, you must go; 111:086,03[D ]| you cannot refuse going now." 111:086,04[A ]| "I should like to see the castle; but may we go all 111:086,05[A ]| over it? may we go up every staircase, and into every 111:086,06[A ]| suite of rooms?" 111:086,07[E ]| "Yes, yes, every hole and corner." 111:086,08[A ]| "But then, ~~ if they should only be gone out for an 111:086,09[A ]| hour till it is drier, and call by*and*bye?" 111:086,10[E ]| "Make yourself easy, there is no danger of that, for 111:086,11[E ]| I heard Tilney hallooing to a man who was just passing 111:086,12[E ]| by on horseback, that they were going as far as Wick*Rocks." 111:086,13[E ]| 111:086,14[A ]| "Then I will. Shall I go, Mrs%*Allen?" 111:086,15[I ]| "Just as you please, my dear." 111:086,16[Y ]| "Mrs%*Allen, you must persuade her to go," 111:086,16[' ]| was the 111:086,17[' ]| general cry. Mrs%*Allen was not inattentive to it: ~~ 111:086,18[I ]| "Well, my dear," 111:086,18[' ]| said she, 111:086,18[I ]| "suppose you go." ~~ 111:086,18[' ]| And in 111:086,19[' ]| two minutes they were off. 111:086,20[' ]| Catherine's feelings, as she got into the carriage, were 111:086,21[' ]| in a very unsettled state; divided between regret for the 111:086,22[' ]| loss of one great pleasure, and the hope of soon enjoying 111:086,23[' ]| another, almost its equal in degree, however unlike in 111:086,24[' ]| kind. 111:086,24@a | She could not think the Tilneys had acted quite 111:086,25@a | well by her, in so readily giving up their engagement, 111:086,26@a | without sending her any message of excuse. It was now 111:086,27@a | but an hour later than the time fixed on for the beginning 111:086,28@a | of their walk; and, in spite of what she had heard of the 111:086,29@a | prodigious accumulation of dirt in the course of that 111:086,30@a | hour, she could not from her own observation help thinking, 111:086,31@a | that they might have gone with very little inconvenience. 111:086,32[' ]| To feel herself slighted by them was very 111:086,33[' ]| painful. On the other hand, the delight of exploring an 111:086,34[' ]| edifice like Udolpho, as her fancy represented Blaize*Castle 111:086,35[' ]| to be, was such a counterpoise of good, as might 111:086,36[' ]| console her for almost any*thing. 111:086,37[' ]| They passed briskly down Pulteney-street, and through 111:086,38[' ]| Laura-place, without the exchange of many words. 111:087,01[' ]| Thorpe talked to his horse, and she meditated, by turns, 111:087,02[' ]| on broken promises and broken arches, phaetons and 111:087,03[' ]| false hangings, Tilneys and trap-doors. As they entered 111:087,04[' ]| Argyle-buildings, however, she was roused by this address 111:087,05[' ]| from her companion, 111:087,05[E ]| "Who is that girl who looked at 111:087,06[E ]| you so hard as she went by?" 111:087,07[A ]| "Who? ~~ where?" 111:087,08[E ]| "On the right-hand pavement ~~ she must be almost 111:087,09[E ]| out of sight now." 111:087,09[' ]| Catherine looked round and saw Miss*Tilney 111:087,10[' ]| leaning on her brother's arm, walking slowly down 111:087,11[' ]| the street. She saw them both looking back at her. 111:087,12[A ]| "Stop, stop, Mr%*Thorpe," 111:087,12[' ]| she impatiently cried, 111:087,12[A ]| "it is 111:087,13[A ]| Miss*Tilney; it is indeed. ~~ How could you tell me they 111:087,14[A ]| were gone? ~~ Stop, stop, I will get out this moment and 111:087,15[A ]| go to them." 111:087,15[' ]| But to what purpose did she speak? ~~ 111:087,16[' ]| Thorpe only lashed his horse into a brisker trot; the 111:087,17[' ]| Tilneys, who had soon ceased to look after her, were in 111:087,18[' ]| a moment out of sight round the corner of Laura-place, 111:087,19[' ]| and in another moment she was herself whisked into the 111:087,20[' ]| Market-place. Still, however, and during the length of 111:087,21[' ]| another street, she intreated him to stop. 111:087,21[A ]| "Pray, pray 111:087,22[A ]| stop, Mr%*Thorpe. ~~ I cannot go on. ~~ I will not go on. ~~ 111:087,23[A ]| I must go back to Miss*Tilney." 111:087,23[' ]| But Mr%*Thorpe only 111:087,24[' ]| laughed, smacked his whip, encouraged his horse, made 111:087,25[' ]| odd noises, and drove on; and Catherine, angry and 111:087,26[' ]| vexed as she was, having no power of getting away, was 111:087,27[' ]| obliged to give up the point and submit. Her reproaches, 111:087,28[' ]| however, were not spared. 111:087,28[A ]| "How could you deceive me 111:087,29[A ]| so, Mr%*Thorpe? ~~ How could you say, that you saw 111:087,30[A ]| them driving up the Lansdown-road? ~~ I would not have 111:087,31[A ]| had it happen so for the world. ~~ They must think it so 111:087,32[A ]| strange; so rude of me! to go by them, too, without 111:087,33[A ]| saying a word! You do not know how vexed I am. ~~ 111:087,34[A ]| I shall have no pleasure at Clifton, nor in any*thing else. 111:087,35[A ]| I had rather, ten thousand times rather get out now, and 111:087,36[A ]| walk back to them. How could you say, you saw them 111:087,37[A ]| driving out in a phaeton?" 111:087,37[' ]| Thorpe defended himself 111:087,38[' ]| very stoutly, declared he had never seen two men so 111:088,01[' ]| much alike in his life, and would hardly give up the point 111:088,02[' ]| of its having been Tilney himself. 111:088,03[' ]| Their drive, even when this subject was over, was not 111:088,04[' ]| likely to be very agreeable. Catherine's complaisance 111:088,05[' ]| was no longer what it had been in their former airing. 111:088,06[' ]| She listened reluctantly, and her replies were short. 111:088,07[' ]| Blaize*Castle remained her only comfort; towards \that\, 111:088,08[' ]| she still looked at intervals with pleasure; though rather 111:088,09[' ]| than be disappointed of the promised walk, and especially 111:088,10[' ]| rather than be thought ill of by the Tilneys, she would 111:088,11[' ]| willingly have given up all the happiness which its walls 111:088,12[' ]| could supply ~~ the happiness of a progress through a long 111:088,13[' ]| suite of lofty rooms, exhibiting the remains of magnificent 111:088,14[' ]| furniture, though now for many years deserted ~~ the 111:088,15[' ]| happiness of being stopped in their way along narrow, 111:088,16[' ]| winding vaults, by a low, grated door; or even of having 111:088,17[' ]| their lamp, their only lamp, extinguished by a sudden 111:088,18[' ]| gust of wind, and of being left in total darkness. In the 111:088,19[' ]| meanwhile, they proceeded on their journey without any 111:088,20[' ]| mischance; and were within view of the town of Keynsham, 111:088,21[' ]| when a halloo from Morland, who was behind 111:088,22[' ]| them, made his friend pull up, to know what was the 111:088,23[' ]| matter. The others then came close enough for conversation, 111:088,24[' ]| and Morland said, 111:088,24[K ]| "We had better go back, 111:088,25[K ]| Thorpe; it is too late to go on to-day; your sister thinks 111:088,26[K ]| so as well as I. We have been exactly an hour coming 111:088,27[K ]| from Pulteney-street, very little more than seven miles; 111:088,28[K ]| and, I suppose, we have at least eight more to go. It 111:088,29[K ]| will never do. We set out a great deal too late. We had 111:088,30[K ]| much better put it off till another day, and turn round." 111:088,31[E ]| "It is all one to me," 111:088,31[' ]| replied Thorpe rather angrily; 111:088,32[' ]| and instantly turning his horse, they were on their way 111:088,33[' ]| back to Bath. 111:088,34[E ]| "If your brother had not got such a d** beast to 111:088,35[E ]| drive," 111:088,35[' ]| said he soon afterwards, 111:088,35[E ]| "we might have done it 111:088,36[E ]| very well. My horse would have trotted to Clifton within 111:088,37[E ]| the hour, if left to himself, and I have almost broke my 111:088,38[E ]| arm with pulling him in to that cursed broken-winded 111:089,01[E ]| jade's pace. Morland is a fool for not keeping a horse and 111:089,02[E ]| gig of his own." 111:089,03[A ]| "No, he is not," 111:089,03[' ]| said Catherine warmly, 111:089,03[A ]| "for I am 111:089,04[A ]| sure he could not afford it." 111:089,05[E ]| "And why cannot he afford it?" 111:089,06[A ]| "Because he has not money enough." 111:089,07[E ]| "And whose fault is that?" 111:089,08[A ]| "Nobody's, that I know of." 111:089,08[' ]| Thorpe then said some*thing 111:089,09[' ]| in the loud, incoherent way to which he had often 111:089,10[' ]| recourse, about 111:089,10@e | its being a d** thing to be miserly; 111:089,11@e | and that if people who rolled in money could not afford 111:089,12@e | things, he did not know who could; 111:089,12[' ]| which Catherine did 111:089,13[' ]| not even endeavour to understand. Disappointed of 111:089,14[' ]| what was to have been the consolation for her first disappointment, 111:089,15[' ]| she was less and less disposed either to be 111:089,16[' ]| agreeable herself, or to find her companion so; and they 111:089,17[' ]| returned to Pulteney-street without her speaking twenty 111:089,18[' ]| words. 111:089,19[' ]| As she entered the house, the footman told her, that 111:089,20[' ]| a gentleman and lady had called and inquired for her 111:089,21[' ]| a few minutes after her setting off; that, when he told 111:089,22[' ]| them she was gone out with Mr%*Thorpe, the lady had 111:089,23[' ]| asked whether any message had been left for her; and 111:089,24[' ]| on his saying no, had felt for a card, but said she had 111:089,25[' ]| none about her, and went away. Pondering over these 111:089,26[' ]| heart-rending tidings, Catherine walked slowly up*stairs. 111:089,27[' ]| At the head of them she was met by Mr%*Allen, who, on 111:089,28[' ]| hearing the reason of their speedy return, said, 111:089,28[H ]| "I am 111:089,29[H ]| glad your brother had so much sense; I am glad you 111:089,30[H ]| are come back. It was a strange, wild scheme." 111:089,31[' ]| They all spent the evening together at Thorpe's. 111:089,32[' ]| Catherine was disturbed and out of spirits; but Isabella 111:089,33[' ]| seemed to find a pool of commerce, in the fate of which 111:089,34[' ]| she shared, by private partnership with Morland, a very 111:089,35[' ]| good equivalent for the quiet and country air of an inn 111:089,36[' ]| at Clifton. Her satisfaction, too, in not being at the 111:089,37[' ]| Lower*Rooms, was spoken more than once. 111:089,37[D ]| "How 111:089,38[D ]| I pity the poor creatures that are going there! How 111:090,01[D ]| glad I am that I am not amongst them! I wonder 111:090,02[D ]| whether it will be a full ball or not! They have not 111:090,03[D ]| begun dancing yet. I would not be there for all the world. 111:090,04[D ]| It is so delightful to have an evening now and then to 111:090,05[D ]| oneself. I dare say it will not be a very good ball. I know 111:090,06[D ]| the Mitchells will not be there. I am sure I pity every*body 111:090,07[D ]| that is. But I dare say, Mr%*Morland, you long to 111:090,08[D ]| be at it, do not you? I am sure you do. Well, pray 111:090,09[D ]| do not let any*body here be a restraint on you. I dare 111:090,10[D ]| say we could do very well without you; but you men 111:090,11[D ]| think yourselves of such consequence." 111:090,12[' ]| Catherine could almost have accused Isabella of being 111:090,13[' ]| wanting in tenderness towards herself and her sorrows; 111:090,14[' ]| so very little did they appear to dwell on her mind, and 111:090,15[' ]| so very inadequate was the comfort she offered. 111:090,15[D ]| "Do 111:090,16[D ]| not be so dull, my dearest creature," 111:090,16[' ]| she whispered. 111:090,17[D ]| "You will quite break my heart. It was amazingly 111:090,18[D ]| shocking to be sure; but the Tilneys were entirely to 111:090,19[D ]| blame. Why were not they more punctual? It was 111:090,20[D ]| dirty, indeed, but what did that signify? I am sure 111:090,21[D ]| John and I should not have minded it. I never mind 111:090,22[D ]| going through any*thing, where a friend is concerned; 111:090,23[D ]| that is my disposition, and John is just the same; he has 111:090,24[D ]| amazing strong feelings. Good heavens! what a delightful 111:090,25[D ]| hand you have got! Kings, I vow! I never was so 111:090,26[D ]| happy in my life! I would fifty times rather you should 111:090,27[D ]| have them than myself." 111:090,28[' ]| And now I may dismiss my heroine to the sleepless 111:090,29[' ]| couch, which is the true heroine's portion; to a pillow 111:090,30[' ]| strewed with thorns and wet with tears. And lucky may 111:090,31[' ]| she think herself, if she get another good night's rest in 111:090,32[' ]| the course of the next three months. 112:091,01[A ]| "Mrs%*Allen," 112:091,01[' ]| said Catherine the next morning, 112:091,01[A ]| "will 112:091,02[A ]| there be any harm in my calling on Miss*Tilney to-day? 112:091,03[A ]| I shall not be easy till I have explained every*thing." 112:091,04[I ]| "Go by all means, my dear; only put on a white 112:091,05[I ]| gown; Miss*Tilney always wears white." 112:091,06[' ]| Catherine cheerfully complied; and being properly 112:091,07[' ]| equipped, was more impatient than ever to be at the 112:091,08[' ]| Pump-room, that she might inform herself of General*Tilney's 112:091,09[' ]| lodgings, for though she believed they were in 112:091,10[' ]| Milsom-street, she was not certain of the house, and 112:091,11[' ]| Mrs%*Allen's wavering convictions only made it more 112:091,12[' ]| doubtful. To Milsom-street she was directed; and 112:091,13[' ]| having made herself perfect in the number, hastened 112:091,14[' ]| away with eager steps and a beating heart to pay her 112:091,15[' ]| visit, explain her conduct, and be forgiven; tripping 112:091,16[' ]| lightly through the church-yard, and resolutely turning 112:091,17[' ]| away her eyes, that she might not be obliged to see her 112:091,18[' ]| beloved Isabella and her dear family, who, she had reason 112:091,19[' ]| to believe, were in a shop hard by. She reached the house 112:091,20[' ]| without any impediment, looked at the number, knocked 112:091,21[' ]| at the door, and inquired for Miss*Tilney. The man 112:091,22@w | believed Miss*Tilney to be at home, but was not quite 112:091,23@w | certain. Would she be pleased to send up her name? 112:091,24[' ]| She gave her card. In a few minutes the servant returned, 112:091,25[' ]| and with a look which did not quite confirm his words, 112:091,26[' ]| said 112:091,26@w | he had been mistaken, for that Miss*Tilney was 112:091,27@w | walked out. 112:091,27[' ]| Catherine, with a blush of mortification, 112:091,28[' ]| left the house. She felt almost persuaded that Miss*Tilney 112:091,29[' ]| \was\ at home, and too much offended to admit her; and 112:091,30[' ]| as she retired down the street, could not withhold one 112:091,31[' ]| glance at the drawing-room windows, in expectation of 112:091,32[' ]| seeing her there, but no*one appeared at them. At the 112:091,33[' ]| bottom of the street, however, she looked back again, 112:092,01[' ]| and then, not at a window, but issuing from the door, she 112:092,02[' ]| saw Miss*Tilney herself. She was followed by a gentleman, 112:092,03[' ]| whom Catherine believed to be her father, and they 112:092,04[' ]| turned up towards Edgar's-buildings. Catherine, in deep 112:092,05[' ]| mortification, proceeded on her way. She could almost 112:092,06[' ]| be angry herself at such angry incivility; but she checked 112:092,07[' ]| the resentful sensation; she remembered her own ignorance. 112:092,08[' ]| She knew not how such an offence as her's might 112:092,09[' ]| be classed by the laws of worldly politeness, to what 112:092,10[' ]| a degree of unforgivingness it might with propriety lead, 112:092,11[' ]| nor to what rigours of rudeness in return it might justly 112:092,12[' ]| make her amenable. 112:092,13[' ]| Dejected and humbled, she had even some thoughts of 112:092,14[' ]| not going with the others to the theatre that night; but 112:092,15[' ]| it must be confessed that they were not of long continuance: 112:092,16[' ]| for she soon recollected, in the first place, that 112:092,17[' ]| she was without any excuse for staying at home; and, 112:092,18[' ]| in the second, that it was a play she wanted very much 112:092,19[' ]| to see. To the theatre accordingly they all went; no 112:092,20[' ]| Tilneys appeared to plague or please her; she feared that, 112:092,21[' ]| amongst the many perfections of the family, a fondness 112:092,22[' ]| for plays was not to be ranked; but perhaps it was 112:092,23[' ]| because they were habituated to the finer performances 112:092,24[' ]| of the London stage, which she knew, on Isabella's 112:092,25[' ]| authority, rendered every*thing else of the kind 112:092,25@d | "quite 112:092,26@d | horrid." 112:092,26[' ]| She was not deceived in her own expectation of 112:092,27[' ]| pleasure; the comedy so well suspended her care, that 112:092,28[' ]| no*one, observing her during the first four acts, would 112:092,29[' ]| have supposed she had any wretchedness about her. On 112:092,30[' ]| the beginning of the fifth, however, the sudden view of 112:092,31[' ]| Mr%*Henry*Tilney and his father, joining a party in the 112:092,32[' ]| opposite box, recalled her to anxiety and distress. The 112:092,33[' ]| stage could no longer excite genuine merriment ~~ no 112:092,34[' ]| longer keep her whole attention. Every other look upon 112:092,35[' ]| an average was directed towards the opposite box; and, 112:092,36[' ]| for the space of two entire scenes, did she thus watch 112:092,37[' ]| Henry*Tilney, without being once able to catch his eye. 112:092,38[' ]| No longer could he be suspected of indifference for a play; 112:093,01[' ]| his notice was never withdrawn from the stage during 112:093,02[' ]| two whole scenes. At length, however, he did look 112:093,03[' ]| towards her, and he bowed ~~ but such a bow! no smile, 112:093,04[' ]| no continued observance attended it; his eyes were 112:093,05[' ]| immediately returned to their former direction. Catherine 112:093,06[' ]| was restlessly miserable; she could almost have run round 112:093,07[' ]| to the box in which he sat, and forced him to hear her 112:093,08[' ]| explanation. Feelings rather natural than heroic 112:093,09[' ]| possessed her; instead of considering her own dignity 112:093,10[' ]| injured by this ready condemnation ~~ instead of proudly 112:093,11[' ]| resolving, in conscious innocence, to shew her resentment 112:093,12[' ]| towards him who could harbour a doubt of it, to leave 112:093,13[' ]| to him all the trouble of seeking an explanation, and to 112:093,14[' ]| enlighten him on the past only by avoiding his sight, or 112:093,15[' ]| flirting with somebody else, she took to herself all the 112:093,16[' ]| shame of misconduct, or at least of its appearance, and 112:093,17[' ]| was only eager for an opportunity of explaining its cause. 112:093,18[' ]| The play concluded ~~ the curtain fell ~~ Henry*Tilney 112:093,19[' ]| was no longer to be seen where he had hitherto sat, but 112:093,20[' ]| his father remained, and perhaps he might be now coming 112:093,21[' ]| round to their box. She was right; in a few minutes he 112:093,22[' ]| appeared, and, making his way through the then thinning 112:093,23[' ]| rows, spoke with like calm politeness to Mrs%*Allen and 112:093,24[' ]| her friend. ~~ Not with such calmness was he answered by 112:093,25[' ]| the latter: 112:093,25[A ]| "Oh! Mr%*Tilney, I have been quite wild to 112:093,26[A ]| speak to you, and make my apologies. You must have 112:093,27[A ]| thought me so rude; but indeed it was not my own 112:093,28[A ]| fault, ~~ was it, Mrs%*Allen? Did not they tell me that 112:093,29[A ]| Mr%*Tilney and his sister were gone out in a phaeton 112:093,30[A ]| together? and then what could I do? But I had ten 112:093,31[A ]| thousand times rather have been with you; now had not 112:093,32[A ]| I, Mrs%*Allen?" 112:093,33[I ]| "My dear, you tumble my gown," 112:093,33[' ]| was Mrs%*Allen's 112:093,34[' ]| reply. 112:093,35[' ]| Her assurance, however, standing sole as it did, was 112:093,36[' ]| not thrown away; it brought a more cordial, more 112:093,37[' ]| natural smile into his countenance, and he replied in 112:093,38[' ]| a tone which retained only a little affected reserve: ~~ 112:094,01[B ]| "We were much obliged to you at any rate for wishing 112:094,02[B ]| us a pleasant walk after our passing you in Argyle-street: 112:094,03[B ]| you were so kind as to look back on purpose." 112:094,04[A ]| "But indeed I did not wish you a pleasant walk; 112:094,05[A ]| I never thought of such a thing; but I begged Mr%*Thorpe 112:094,06[A ]| so earnestly to stop; I called out to him as soon as ever 112:094,07[A ]| I saw you; now, Mrs%*Allen, did not ~~ Oh! you were 112:094,08[A ]| not there; but indeed I did; and, if Mr%*Thorpe would 112:094,09[A ]| only have stopped, I would have jumped out and run 112:094,10[A ]| after you." 112:094,11[' ]| Is there a Henry in the world who could be insensible 112:094,12[' ]| to such a declaration? Henry*Tilney at least was not. 112:094,13[' ]| With a yet sweeter smile, he said every*thing that need 112:094,14[' ]| be said of his sister's concern, regret, and dependence on 112:094,15[' ]| Catherine's honour. ~~ 112:094,15[A ]| "Oh! do not say Miss*Tilney was 112:094,16[A ]| not angry," 112:094,16[' ]| cried Catherine, 112:094,16[A ]| "because I know she was; 112:094,17[A ]| for she would not see me this morning when I called; 112:094,18[A ]| I saw her walk out of the house the next minute after 112:094,19[A ]| my leaving it; I was hurt, but I was not affronted. 112:094,20[A ]| Perhaps you did not know I had been there." 112:094,21[B ]| "I was not within at the time; but I heard of it from 112:094,22[B ]| Eleanor, and she has been wishing ever since to see you, 112:094,23[B ]| to explain the reason of such incivility; but perhaps 112:094,24[B ]| I can do it as well. It was nothing more than that my 112:094,25[B ]| father ~~ they were just preparing to walk out, and he 112:094,26[B ]| being hurried for time, and not caring to have it put off, 112:094,27[B ]| made a point of her being denied. That was all, I do 112:094,28[B ]| assure you. She was very much vexed, and meant to 112:094,29[B ]| make her apology as soon as possible." 112:094,30[' ]| Catherine's mind was greatly eased by this information, 112:094,31[' ]| yet a something of solicitude remained, from which sprang 112:094,32[' ]| the following question, thoroughly artless in itself, though 112:094,33[' ]| rather distressing to the gentleman: ~~ 112:094,33[A ]| "But, Mr%*Tilney, 112:094,34[A ]| why were \you\ less generous than your sister? If she felt 112:094,35[A ]| such confidence in my good intentions, and could suppose 112:094,36[A ]| it to be only a mistake, why should \you\ be so ready to 112:094,37[A ]| take offence?" 112:094,38[B ]| "Me! ~~ I take offence!" 112:095,01[A ]| "Nay, I am sure by your look, when you came into the 112:095,02[A ]| box, you were angry." 112:095,03[B ]| "I angry! I could have no right." 112:095,04[A ]| "Well, nobody would have thought you had no right 112:095,05[A ]| who saw your face." 112:095,05[' ]| He replied by asking her to make 112:095,06[' ]| room for him, and talking of the play. 112:095,07[' ]| He remained with them some time, and was only too 112:095,08[' ]| agreeable for Catherine to be contented when he went 112:095,09[' ]| away. Before they parted, however, it was agreed that 112:095,10[' ]| the projected walk should be taken as soon as possible; 112:095,11[' ]| and, setting aside the misery of his quitting their box, 112:095,12[' ]| she was, upon the whole, left one of the happiest creatures 112:095,13[' ]| in the world. 112:095,14[' ]| While talking to each other, she had observed with 112:095,15[' ]| some surprize, that John*Thorpe, who was never in the 112:095,16[' ]| same part of the house for ten minutes together, was 112:095,17[' ]| engaged in conversation with General*Tilney; and she 112:095,18[' ]| felt something more than surprize, when she thought she 112:095,19[' ]| could perceive herself the object of their attention and 112:095,20[' ]| discourse. 112:095,20@a | What could they have to say of her? She 112:095,21@a | feared General*Tilney did not like her appearance: she 112:095,22@a | found it was implied in his preventing her admittance to 112:095,23@a | his daughter, rather than postpone his own walk a few 112:095,24@a | minutes. 112:095,24[A ]| "How came Mr%*Thorpe to know your father?" 112:095,25[' ]| was her anxious inquiry, as she pointed them out to her 112:095,26[' ]| companion. 112:095,26@b | He knew nothing about it; but his father, 112:095,27@b | like every military man, had a very large acquaintance. 112:095,28[' ]| When the entertainment was over, Thorpe came to 112:095,29[' ]| assist them in getting out. Catherine was the immediate 112:095,30[' ]| object of his gallantry; and, while they waited in the 112:095,31[' ]| lobby for a chair, he prevented the inquiry which had 112:095,32[' ]| travelled from her heart almost to the tip of her tongue, 112:095,33[' ]| by asking, in a consequential manner, whether she had 112:095,34[' ]| seen him talking with General*Tilney: ~~ 112:095,34[E ]| "He is a fine 112:095,35[E ]| old fellow, upon my soul! ~~ stout, active, ~~ looks as young 112:095,36[E ]| as his son. I have a great regard for him, I assure you: 112:095,37[E ]| a gentleman-like, good sort of fellow as ever lived." 112:095,38[A ]| "But how came you to know him?" 112:096,01[E ]| "Know him! ~~ There are few people much about town 112:096,02[E ]| that I do not know. I have met him for*ever at the 112:096,03[E ]| Bedford; and I knew his face again to-day the moment 112:096,04[E ]| he came into the billiard-room. One of the best players 112:096,05[E ]| we have, by*the*bye; and we had a little touch together, 112:096,06[E ]| though I was almost afraid of him at first: the odds were 112:096,07[E ]| five to four against me; and, if I had not made one of 112:096,08[E ]| the cleanest strokes that perhaps ever was made in this 112:096,09[E ]| world ~~ I took his ball exactly ~~ but I could not 112:096,10[E ]| make you understand it without a table; ~~ however I \did\ 112:096,11[E ]| beat him. A very fine fellow; as rich as a Jew. I should 112:096,12[E ]| like to dine with him; I dare say he gives famous dinners. 112:096,13[E ]| But what do you think we have been talking of? ~~ You. 112:096,14[E ]| Yes, by heavens! ~~ and the General thinks you the finest 112:096,15[E ]| girl in Bath." 112:096,16[A ]| "Oh! nonsense! how can you say so?" 112:096,17[E ]| "And what do you think I said?" 112:096,17[' ]| (lowering his voice) 112:096,18[E ]| "Well done, General, said I, I am quite of your mind." 112:096,19[' ]| Here, Catherine, who was much less gratified by his 112:096,20[' ]| admiration than by General*Tilney's, was not sorry to be 112:096,21[' ]| called away by Mr%*Allen. Thorpe, however, would see 112:096,22[' ]| her to her chair, and, till she entered it, continued the 112:096,23[' ]| same kind of delicate flattery, in spite of her entreating 112:096,24[' ]| him to have done. 112:096,25[' ]| That General*Tilney, instead of disliking, should admire 112:096,26[' ]| her, was very delightful; and she joyfully thought, that 112:096,27@a | there was not one of the family whom she need now fear 112:096,28@a | to meet. ~~ The evening had done more, much more, for 112:096,29@a | her, than could have been expected. 113:097,01[' ]| Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and 113:097,02[' ]| Saturday have now passed in review before the reader; 113:097,03[' ]| the events of each day, its hopes and fears, mortifications 113:097,04[' ]| and pleasures have been separately stated, and the pangs 113:097,05[' ]| of Sunday only now remain to be described, and close 113:097,06[' ]| the week. The Clifton scheme had been deferred, not 113:097,07[' ]| relinquished, and on the afternoon's Crescent of this day, 113:097,08[' ]| it was brought forward again. In a private consultation 113:097,09[' ]| between Isabella and James, the former of whom had 113:097,10[' ]| particularly set her heart upon going, and the latter no 113:097,11[' ]| less anxiously placed his upon pleasing her, it was agreed 113:097,12[' ]| that, provided the weather were fair, the party should 113:097,13[' ]| take place on the following morning; and they were to 113:097,14[' ]| set off very early, in order to be at home in good time. 113:097,15[' ]| The affair thus determined, and Thorpe's approbation 113:097,16[' ]| secured, Catherine only remained to be apprized of it. 113:097,17[' ]| She had left them for a few minutes to speak to Miss*Tilney. 113:097,18[' ]| In that interval the plan was completed, and as 113:097,19[' ]| soon as she came again, her agreement was demanded; 113:097,20[' ]| but instead of the gay acquiescence expected by Isabella, 113:097,21[' ]| Catherine looked grave, 113:097,21@a | was very sorry, but could not go. 113:097,22@a | The engagement which ought to have kept her from 113:097,23@a | joining in the former attempt, would make it impossible 113:097,24@a | for her to accompany them now. She had that moment 113:097,25@a | settled with Miss*Tilney to take their promised walk 113:097,26@a | to-morrow; it was quite determined, and she would not, 113:097,27@a | upon any account, retract. 113:097,27[' ]| But that 113:097,27@y | she \must\ and \should\ 113:097,28@y | retract, 113:097,28[' ]| was instantly the eager cry of both the Thorpes; 113:097,29@y | they must go to Clifton to-morrow, they would not go 113:097,30@y | without her, it would be nothing to put off a mere walk 113:097,31@y | for one day longer, and they would not hear of a refusal. 113:097,32[' ]| Catherine was distressed, but not subdued. 113:097,32[A ]| "Do not 113:097,33[A ]| urge me, Isabella. I am engaged to Miss*Tilney. I cannot 113:098,01[A ]| go." 113:098,01[' ]| This availed nothing. The same arguments assailed 113:098,02[' ]| her again; 113:098,02@y | she must go, she should go, and they would 113:098,03@y | not hear of a refusal. 113:098,03[D ]| "It would be so easy to tell Miss*Tilney 113:098,04[D ]| that you had just been reminded of a prior engagement, 113:098,05[D ]| and must only beg to put off the walk till Tuesday." 113:098,06[A ]| "No, it would not be easy. I could not do it. There 113:098,07[A ]| has been no prior engagement." 113:098,07[' ]| But Isabella became 113:098,08[' ]| only more and more urgent; calling on her in the most 113:098,09[' ]| affectionate manner; addressing her by the most endearing 113:098,10[' ]| names. 113:098,10@d | She was sure her dearest, sweetest Catherine 113:098,11@d | would not seriously refuse such a trifling request to 113:098,12@d | a friend who loved her so dearly. She knew her beloved 113:098,13@d | Catherine to have so feeling a heart, so sweet a temper, 113:098,14@d | to be so easily persuaded by those she loved. 113:098,14[' ]| But all in 113:098,15[' ]| vain; Catherine felt herself to be in the right, and though 113:098,16[' ]| pained by such tender, such flattering supplication, could 113:098,17[' ]| not allow it to influence her. Isabella then tried another 113:098,18[' ]| method. She reproached her with 113:098,18@d | having more affection 113:098,19@d | for Miss*Tilney, though she had known her so little 113:098,20@d | a while, than for her best and oldest friends; with being 113:098,21@d | grown cold and indifferent, in short, towards herself. 113:098,22[D ]| "I cannot help being jealous, Catherine, when I see 113:098,23[D ]| myself slighted for strangers, I, who love you so excessively! 113:098,24[D ]| When once my affections are placed, it is not 113:098,25[D ]| in the power of any*thing to change them. But I believe 113:098,26[D ]| my feelings are stronger than any*body's; I am sure 113:098,27[D ]| they are too strong for my own peace; and to see myself 113:098,28[D ]| supplanted in your friendship by strangers, does cut me 113:098,29[D ]| to the quick, I own. These Tilneys seem to swallow up 113:098,30[D ]| every*thing else." 113:098,31[' ]| Catherine thought 113:098,31@a | this reproach equally strange and 113:098,32@a | unkind. Was it the part of a friend thus to expose her 113:098,33@a | feelings to the notice of others? Isabella appeared to 113:098,34@a | her ungenerous and selfish, regardless of every*thing but 113:098,35@a | her own gratification. 113:098,35[' ]| These painful ideas crossed her 113:098,36[' ]| mind, though she said nothing. Isabella, in the meanwhile, 113:098,37[' ]| had applied her handkerchief to her eyes; and Morland 113:098,38[' ]| miserable at such a sight, could not help saying, 113:098,38[K ]| "Nay, 113:099,01[K ]| Catherine. I think you cannot stand out any longer 113:099,02[K ]| now. The sacrifice is not much; and to oblige such 113:099,03[K ]| a friend ~~ I shall think you quite unkind, if you still 113:099,04[K ]| refuse." 113:099,05[' ]| This was the first time of her brother's openly siding 113:099,06[' ]| against her, and anxious to avoid his displeasure, she 113:099,07[' ]| proposed a compromise. 113:099,07@a | If they would only put off their 113:099,08@a | scheme till Tuesday, which they might easily do, as it 113:099,09@a | depended only on themselves, she could go with them, 113:099,10@a | and every*body might then be satisfied. 113:099,10[Y ]| But 113:099,10[Y ]| "No, no, 113:099,11[Y ]| no!" 113:099,11[' ]| was the immediate answer; 113:099,11[Y ]| "that could not be, 113:099,12[Y ]| for Thorpe did not know that he might not go to town 113:099,13[Y ]| on Tuesday." 113:099,13[' ]| Catherine was sorry, but could do no 113:099,14[' ]| more; and a short silence ensued, which was broken by 113:099,15[' ]| Isabella; who in a voice of cold resentment said, 113:099,15[D ]| "Very 113:099,16[D ]| well, then there is an end of the party. If Catherine does 113:099,17[D ]| not go, I cannot. I cannot be the only woman. I would 113:099,18[D ]| not, upon any account in the world, do so improper 113:099,19[D ]| a thing." 113:099,20[K ]| "Catherine, you must go," 113:099,20[' ]| said James. 113:099,21[A ]| "But why cannot Mr%*Thorpe drive one of his other 113:099,22[A ]| sisters? I dare say either of them would like to go." 113:099,23[E ]| "Thank ye," 113:099,23[' ]| cried Thorpe, 113:099,23[E ]| "but I did not come to 113:099,24[E ]| Bath to drive my sisters about, and look like a fool. No, 113:099,25[E ]| if you do not go, d** me if I do. I only go for the sake 113:099,26[E ]| of driving you." 113:099,27[A ]| "That is a compliment which gives me no pleasure." 113:099,28[' ]| But her words were lost on Thorpe, who had turned 113:099,29[' ]| abruptly away. 113:099,30[' ]| The three others still continued together, walking in 113:099,31[' ]| a most uncomfortable manner to poor Catherine; some*times 113:099,32[' ]| not a word was said, sometimes she was again 113:099,33[' ]| attacked with supplications or reproaches, and her arm 113:099,34[' ]| was still linked within Isabella's, though their hearts were 113:099,35[' ]| at war. At one moment she was softened, at another 113:099,36[' ]| irritated; always distressed, but always steady. 113:099,37[K ]| "I did not think you had been so obstinate, Catherine," 113:099,38[' ]| said James; 113:099,38[K ]| "you were not used to be so hard to persuade; 113:100,01[K ]| you once were the kindest, best-tempered of my 113:100,02[K ]| sisters." 113:100,03[A ]| "I hope I am not less so now," 113:100,03[' ]| she replied, very feelingly; 113:100,04[A ]| "but indeed I cannot go. If I am wrong, I am 113:100,05[A ]| doing what I believe to be right." 113:100,06[D ]| "I suspect," 113:100,06[' ]| said Isabella, in a low voice, 113:100,06[D ]| "there is no 113:100,07[D ]| great struggle." 113:100,08[' ]| Catherine's heart swelled; she drew away her arm, 113:100,09[' ]| and Isabella made no opposition. Thus passed a long 113:100,10[' ]| ten minutes, till they were again joined by Thorpe, who 113:100,11[' ]| coming to them with a gayer look, said, 113:100,11[E ]| "Well, I have 113:100,12[E ]| settled the matter, and now we may all go to-morrow 113:100,13[E ]| with a safe conscience. I have been to Miss*Tilney, and 113:100,14[E ]| made your excuses." 113:100,15[A ]| "You have not!" 113:100,15[' ]| cried Catherine. 113:100,16[E ]| "I have, upon my soul. Left her this moment. Told 113:100,17[E ]| her you had sent me to say, that having just recollected 113:100,18[E ]| a prior engagement of going to Clifton with us to-morrow, 113:100,19[E ]| you could not have the pleasure of walking with her till 113:100,20[E ]| Tuesday. She said 113:100,21@c | very well, Tuesday was just as convenient 113:100,21@c | to her; 113:100,21[E ]| so there is an end of all our difficulties. ~~ 113:100,22[E ]| A pretty good thought of mine ~~ hey?" 113:100,23[' ]| Isabella's countenance was once more all smiles and 113:100,24[' ]| good-humour, and James too looked happy again. 113:100,25[D ]| "A most heavenly thought indeed! Now, my sweet 113:100,26[D ]| Catherine, all our distresses are over; you are honourably 113:100,27[D ]| acquitted, and we shall have a most delightful party." 113:100,28[A ]| "This will not do," 113:100,28[' ]| said Catherine; 113:100,28[A ]| "I cannot submit 113:100,29[A ]| to this. I must run after Miss*Tilney directly and set 113:100,30[A ]| her right." 113:100,31[' ]| Isabella, however, caught hold of one hand; Thorpe 113:100,32[' ]| of the other; and remonstrances poured in from all three. 113:100,33[' ]| Even James was quite angry. 113:100,33@k | When every*thing was 113:100,34@k | settled, when Miss*Tilney herself said that Tuesday would 113:100,35@k | suit her as well, it was quite ridiculous, quite absurd to 113:100,36@k | make any further objection. 113:100,37[A ]| "I do not care. Mr%*Thorpe had no business to invent 113:100,38[A ]| any such message. If I had thought it right to put it off, 113:101,01[A ]| I could have spoken to Miss*Tilney myself. This is only 113:101,02[A ]| doing it in a ruder way; and how do I know that Mr%*Thorpe 113:101,03[A ]| has ~~ he may be mistaken again perhaps; he 113:101,04[A ]| led me into one act of rudeness by his mistake on Friday. 113:101,05[A ]| Let me go, Mr%*Thorpe; Isabella, do not hold me." 113:101,06[' ]| Thorpe told her 113:101,06@e | it would be in vain to go after the 113:101,07@e | Tilneys; they were turning the corner into Brock-street, 113:101,08@e | when he had overtaken them, and were at home by this 113:101,09@e | time. 113:101,10[A ]| "Then I will go after them," 113:101,10[' ]| said Catherine; 113:101,10[A ]| "wherever 113:101,11[A ]| they are I will go after them. It does not signify 113:101,12[A ]| talking. If I could not be persuaded into doing what 113:101,13[A ]| I thought wrong, I never will be tricked into it." 113:101,13[' ]| And 113:101,14[' ]| with these words she broke away and hurried off. Thorpe 113:101,15[' ]| would have darted after her, but Morland withheld him. 113:101,16[K ]| "Let her go, let her go, if she will go." 113:101,17[E ]| "She is as obstinate as ~~." 113:101,18[' ]| Thorpe never finished the simile, for it could hardly 113:101,19[' ]| have been a proper one. 113:101,20[' ]| Away walked Catherine in great agitation, as fast as 113:101,21[' ]| the crowd would permit her, fearful of being pursued, 113:101,22[' ]| yet determined to persevere. As she walked, she reflected 113:101,23[' ]| on what had passed. It was painful to her to disappoint 113:101,24[' ]| and displease them, particularly to displease her brother; 113:101,25[' ]| but she could not repent her resistance. 113:101,25@a | Setting her own 113:101,26@a | inclination apart, to have failed a second time in her 113:101,27@a | engagement to Miss*Tilney, to have retracted a promise 113:101,28@a | voluntarily made only five minutes before, and on a false 113:101,29@a | pretence too, must have been wrong. She had not been 113:101,30@a | withstanding them on selfish principles alone, she had 113:101,31@a | not consulted merely her own gratification; \that\ might 113:101,32@a | have been ensured in some degree by the excursion itself, 113:101,33@a | by seeing Blaize*Castle; no, she had attended to what 113:101,34@a | was due to others, and to her own character in their 113:101,35@a | opinion. 113:101,35[' ]| Her conviction of being right however was not 113:101,36[' ]| enough to restore her composure, till she had spoken to 113:101,37[' ]| Miss*Tilney she could not be at ease; and quickening 113:101,38[' ]| her pace when she got clear of the Crescent, she almost 113:102,01[' ]| ran over the remaining ground till she gained the top of 113:102,02[' ]| Milsom-street. So rapid had been her movements, that 113:102,03[' ]| in spite of the Tilneys' advantage in the outset, they were 113:102,04[' ]| but just turning into their lodgings as she came within 113:102,05[' ]| view of them; and the servant still remaining at the open 113:102,06[' ]| door, she used only the ceremony of saying that she must 113:102,07[' ]| speak with Miss*Tilney that moment, and hurrying by 113:102,08[' ]| him proceeded up*stairs. Then, opening the first door 113:102,09[' ]| before her, which happened to be the right, she immediately 113:102,10[' ]| found herself in the drawing-room with General*Tilney, 113:102,11[' ]| his son and daughter. Her explanation, defective 113:102,12[' ]| only in being ~~ from her irritation of nerves and shortness 113:102,13[' ]| of breath ~~ no explanation at all, was instantly given. 113:102,14[A ]| "I am come in a great hurry ~~ It was all a mistake ~~ 113:102,15[A ]| I never promised to go ~~ I told them from the first I could 113:102,16[A ]| not go. ~~ I ran away in a great hurry to explain it. ~~ I did 113:102,17[A ]| not care what you thought of me. ~~ I would not stay for 113:102,18[A ]| the servant." 113:102,19[' ]| The business however, though not perfectly elucidated 113:102,20[' ]| by this speech, soon ceased to be a puzzle. Catherine 113:102,21[' ]| found that John*Thorpe \had\ given the message; and 113:102,22[' ]| Miss*Tilney had no scruple in owning herself greatly 113:102,23[' ]| surprized by it. But whether her brother had still 113:102,24[' ]| exceeded her in resentment, Catherine, though she instinctively 113:102,25[' ]| addressed herself as much to one as to the 113:102,26[' ]| other in her vindication, had no means of knowing. 113:102,27[' ]| Whatever might have been felt before her arrival, her 113:102,28[' ]| eager declarations immediately made every look and 113:102,29[' ]| sentence as friendly as she could desire. 113:102,30[' ]| The affair thus happily settled, she was introduced by 113:102,31[' ]| Miss*Tilney to her father, and received by him with such 113:102,32[' ]| ready, such solicitous politeness as recalled Thorpe's 113:102,33[' ]| information to her mind, and made her think with 113:102,34[' ]| pleasure that he might be sometimes depended on. To 113:102,35[' ]| such anxious attention was the General's civility carried, 113:102,36[' ]| that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering 113:102,37[' ]| the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose 113:102,38[' ]| neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment 113:103,01[' ]| herself. 113:103,01[F ]| "What did William mean by it? He 113:103,02[F ]| should make a point of inquiring into the matter." 113:103,02[' ]| And 113:103,03[' ]| if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, 113:103,04[' ]| it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his 113:103,05[' ]| master for*ever, if not his place, by her rapidity. 113:103,06[' ]| After sitting with them a quarter of an hour, she rose 113:103,07[' ]| to take leave, and was then most agreeably surprized by 113:103,08[' ]| General*Tilney's asking her if she would do his daughter 113:103,09[' ]| the honour of dining and spending the rest of the day 113:103,10[' ]| with her. Miss*Tilney added her own wishes. Catherine 113:103,11@a | was greatly obliged; but it was quite out of her power. 113:103,12@a | Mr% and Mrs%*Allen would expect her back every moment. 113:103,13[' ]| The general declared 113:103,13@f | he could say no more; the claims 113:103,14@f | of Mr% and Mrs%*Allen were not to be superseded; but on 113:103,15@f | some other day he trusted, when longer notice could be 113:103,16@f | given, they would not refuse to spare her to her friend. 113:103,17[A ]| "Oh, no; Catherine was sure they would not have the 113:103,18[A ]| least objection, and she should have great pleasure in 113:103,19[A ]| coming." 113:103,19[' ]| The general attended her himself to the street-door, 113:103,20[' ]| saying every*thing gallant as they went down*stairs, 113:103,21[' ]| admiring the elasticity of her walk, which corresponded 113:103,22[' ]| exactly with the spirit of her dancing, and making her 113:103,23[' ]| one of the most graceful bows she had ever beheld, when 113:103,24[' ]| they parted. 113:103,25[' ]| Catherine, delighted by all that had passed, proceeded 113:103,26[' ]| gaily to Pulteney-street; walking, as she concluded, with 113:103,27[' ]| great elasticity, though she had never thought of it before. 113:103,28[' ]| She reached home without seeing any*thing more of the 113:103,29[' ]| offended party; and now that she had been triumphant 113:103,30[' ]| throughout, had carried her point and was secure of her 113:103,31[' ]| walk, she began (as the flutter of her spirits subsided) to 113:103,32[' ]| doubt whether she had been perfectly right. A sacrifice 113:103,33[' ]| was always noble; and if she had given way to their 113:103,34[' ]| entreaties, she should have been spared the distressing 113:103,35[' ]| idea of a friend displeased, a brother angry, and a scheme 113:103,36[' ]| of great happiness to both destroyed, perhaps through 113:103,37[' ]| her means. To ease her mind, and ascertain by the 113:103,38[' ]| opinion of an unprejudiced person what her own conduct 113:104,01[' ]| had really been, she took occasion to mention before Mr%*Allen 113:104,02[' ]| the half-settled scheme of her brother and the 113:104,03[' ]| Thorpes for the following day. Mr%*Allen caught at it 113:104,04[' ]| directly. 113:104,04[H ]| "Well," 113:104,04[' ]| said he, 113:104,04[H ]| "and do you think of going 113:104,05[H ]| too?" 113:104,06[A ]| "No; I had just engaged myself to walk with Miss*Tilney 113:104,07[A ]| before they told me of it; and therefore you know 113:104,08[A ]| I could not go with them, could I?" 113:104,09[H ]| "No, certainly not; and I am glad you do not think 113:104,10[H ]| of it. These schemes are not at all the thing. Young 113:104,11[H ]| men and women driving about the country in open 113:104,12[H ]| carriages! Now and then it is very well; but going to 113:104,13[H ]| inns and public places together! It is not right; and 113:104,14[H ]| I wonder Mrs%*Thorpe should allow it. I am glad you do 113:104,15[H ]| not think of going; I am sure Mrs%*Morland would not 113:104,16[H ]| be pleased. Mrs%*Allen, are not you of my way of thinking? 113:104,17[H ]| Do not you think these kind of projects objectionable?" 113:104,18[H ]| 113:104,19[I ]| "Yes, very much so indeed. Open carriages are nasty 113:104,20[I ]| things. A clean gown is not five minutes wear in them. 113:104,21[I ]| You are splashed getting in and getting out; and the 113:104,22[I ]| wind takes your hair and your bonnet in every direction. 113:104,23[I ]| I hate an open carriage myself." 113:104,24[H ]| "I know you do; but that is not the question. Do 113:104,25[H ]| not you think it has an odd appearance, if young ladies 113:104,26[H ]| are frequently driven about in them by young men, to 113:104,27[H ]| whom they are not even related?" 113:104,28[I ]| "Yes, my dear, a very odd appearance indeed. I cannot 113:104,29[I ]| bear to see it." 113:104,30[A ]| "Dear madam," 113:104,30[' ]| cried Catherine, 113:104,30[A ]| "then why did not 113:104,31[A ]| you tell me so before? I am sure if I had known it to 113:104,32[A ]| be improper, I would not have gone with Mr%*Thorpe at 113:104,33[A ]| all; but I always hoped you would tell me, if you thought 113:104,34[A ]| I was doing wrong." 113:104,35[I ]| "And so I should, my dear, you may depend on it; 113:104,36[I ]| for as I told Mrs%*Morland at parting, I would always do 113:104,37[I ]| the best for you in my power. But one must not be over 113:104,38[I ]| particular. Young people \will\ be young people, as your 113:105,01[I ]| good mother says herself. You know I wanted you, 113:105,02[I ]| when we first came, not to buy that sprigged muslin, but 113:105,03[I ]| you would. Young people do not like to be always 113:105,04[I ]| thwarted." 113:105,05[A ]| "But this was something of real consequence; and 113:105,06[A ]| I do not think you would have found me hard to persuade." 113:105,07[A ]| 113:105,08[H ]| "As far as it has gone hitherto, there is no harm done," 113:105,09[' ]| said Mr%*Allen; 113:105,09[H ]| "and I would only advise you, my dear, 113:105,10[H ]| not to go out with Mr%*Thorpe any more." 113:105,11[I ]| "That is just what I was going to say," 113:105,11[' ]| added his 113:105,12[' ]| wife. 113:105,13[' ]| Catherine, relieved for herself, felt uneasy for Isabella; 113:105,14[' ]| and after a moment's thought, asked Mr%*Allen 113:105,14@a | whether 113:105,15@a | it would not be both proper and kind in her to write to 113:105,16@a | Miss*Thorpe, and explain the indecorum of which she 113:105,17@a | must be as insensible as herself; 113;105,17[' ]| for she considered that 113:105,18@a | Isabella might otherwise perhaps be going to Clifton the 113:105,19@a | next day, in spite of what had passed. 113:105,19[' ]| Mr%*Allen however 113:105,20[' ]| discouraged her from doing any such thing. 113:105,20[H ]| "You had 113:105,21[H ]| better leave her alone, my dear, she is old enough to 113:105,22[H ]| know what she is about; and if not, has a mother to 113:105,23[H ]| advise her. Mrs%*Thorpe is too indulgent beyond a doubt; 113:105,24[H ]| but however you had better not interfere. She and your 113:105,25[H ]| brother chuse to go, and you will be only getting ill-will." 113:105,26[' ]| Catherine submitted; and though sorry to think that 113:105,27[' ]| Isabella should be doing wrong, felt greatly relieved by 113:105,28[' ]| Mr%*Allen's approbation of her own conduct, and truly 113:105,29[' ]| rejoiced to be preserved by his advice from the danger of 113:105,30[' ]| falling into such an error herself. 113:105,30@a | Her escape from being 113:105,31@a | one of the party to Clifton was now an escape indeed; 113:105,32@a | for what would the Tilneys have thought of her, if she 113:105,33@a | had broken her promise to them in order to do what was 113:105,34@a | wrong in itself? if she had been guilty of one breach of 113:105,35@a | propriety, only to enable her to be guilty of another? 114:106,01[' ]| The next morning was fair, and Catherine almost 114:106,02[' ]| expected another attack from the assembled party. With 114:106,03[' ]| Mr%*Allen to support her, she felt no dread of the event: 114:106,04[' ]| but she would gladly be spared a contest, where victory 114:106,05[' ]| itself was painful; and was heartily rejoiced therefore at 114:106,06[' ]| neither seeing nor hearing any*thing of them. The 114:106,07[' ]| Tilneys called for her at the appointed time; and no new 114:106,08[' ]| difficulty arising, no sudden recollection, no unexpected 114:106,09[' ]| summons, no impertinent intrusion to disconcert their 114:106,10[' ]| measures, my heroine was most unnaturally able to fulfil 114:106,11[' ]| her engagement, though it was made with the hero himself. 114:106,12[' ]| They determined on walking round Beechen*Cliff, 114:106,13[' ]| that noble hill, whose beautiful verdure and hanging 114:106,14[' ]| coppice render it so striking an object from almost every 114:106,15[' ]| opening in Bath. 114:106,16[A ]| "I never look at it," 114:106,16[' ]| said Catherine, as they walked 114:106,17[' ]| along the side of the river, 114:106,17[A ]| "without thinking of the south 114:106,18[A ]| of France." 114:106,19[B ]| "You have been abroad then?" 114:106,19[' ]| said Henry, a little 114:106,20[' ]| surprized. 114:106,21[A ]| "Oh! no, I only mean what I have read about. It 114:106,22[A ]| always puts me in mind of the country that Emily and 114:106,23[A ]| her father travelled through, in the ""Mysteries*of*Udolpho."" 114:106,24[A ]| But you never read novels, I dare say?" 114:106,25[B ]| "Why not?" 114:106,26[A ]| "Because they are not clever enough for you ~~ gentlemen 114:106,27[A ]| read better books." 114:106,28[B ]| "The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not 114:106,29[B ]| pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. 114:106,30[B ]| I have read all Mrs%*Radcliffe's works, and most of them 114:106,31[B ]| with great pleasure. The Mysteries*of*Udolpho, when 114:106,32[B ]| I had once begun it, I could not lay down again; ~~ I remember 114:106,33[B ]| finishing it in two days ~~ my hair standing on 114:106,34[B ]| end the whole time." 114:107,01[C ]| "Yes," 114:107,01[' ]| added Miss*Tilney, 114:107,01[C ]| "and I remember that you 114:107,02[C ]| undertook to read it aloud to me, and that when I was 114:107,03[C ]| called away for only five minutes to answer a note, instead 114:107,04[C ]| of waiting for me, you took the volume into the Hermitage-walk, 114:107,05[C ]| and I was obliged to stay till you had finished it." 114:107,06[B ]| "Thank you, Eleanor; ~~ a most honourable testimony. 114:107,07[B ]| You see, Miss*Morland, the injustice of your suspicions. 114:107,08[B ]| Here was I, in my eagerness to get on, refusing to wait 114:107,09[B ]| only five minutes for my sister; breaking the promise 114:107,10[B ]| I had made of reading it aloud, and keeping her in suspense 114:107,11[B ]| at a most interesting part, by running away with the 114:107,12[B ]| volume, which, you are to observe, was her own, particularly 114:107,13[B ]| her own. I am proud when I reflect on it, and 114:107,14[B ]| I think it must establish me in your good opinion." 114:107,15[A ]| "I am very glad to hear it indeed, and now I shall 114:107,16[A ]| never be ashamed of liking Udolpho myself. But I really 114:107,17[A ]| thought before, young men despised novels amazingly." 114:107,18[B ]| "It is \amazingly\; it may well suggest \amazement\ if 114:107,19[B ]| they do ~~ for they read nearly as many as women. I 114:107,20[B ]| myself have read hundreds and hundreds. Do not 114:107,21[B ]| imagine that you can cope with me in a knowledge of 114:107,22[B ]| Julias and Louisas. If we proceed to particulars, and 114:107,23[B ]| engage in the never-ceasing inquiry of ""Have you read 114:107,24[B ]| this?"" and ""Have you read that?"" I shall soon leave 114:107,25[B ]| you as far behind me as ~~ what shall I say? ~~ I want an 114:107,26[B ]| appropriate simile; ~~ as far as your friend Emily herself 114:107,27[B ]| left poor Valancourt when she went with her aunt into 114:107,28[B ]| Italy. Consider how many years I have had the start of 114:107,29[B ]| you. I had entered on my studies at Oxford, while you 114:107,30[B ]| were a good little girl working your sampler at home!" 114:107,31[A ]| "Not very good I am afraid. But now really, do not 114:107,32[A ]| you think Udolpho the nicest book in the world?" 114:107,33[B ]| "The nicest; ~~ by which I suppose you mean the 114:107,34[B ]| neatest. That must depend upon the binding." 114:107,35[C ]| "Henry," 114:107,35[' ]| said Miss*Tilney, 114:107,35[C ]| "you are very impertinent. 114:107,36[C ]| Miss*Morland, he is treating you exactly as he does his 114:107,37[C ]| sister. He is for*ever finding fault with me, for some 114:107,38[C ]| incorrectness of language, and now he is taking the same 114:108,01[C ]| liberty with you. The word ""nicest"", as you used it, did 114:108,02[C ]| not suit him; and you had better change it as soon as 114:108,03[C ]| you can, or we shall be overpowered with Johnson and 114:108,04[C ]| Blair all the rest of the way." 114:108,05[A ]| "I am sure," 114:108,05[' ]| cried Catherine, 114:108,05[A ]| "I did not mean to say 114:108,06[A ]| any*thing wrong; but it \is\ a nice book, and why should 114:108,07[A ]| not I call it so?" 114:108,08[B ]| "Very true," 114:108,08[' ]| said Henry, 114:108,08[B ]| "and this is a very nice day, 114:108,09[B ]| and we are taking a very nice walk, and you are two very 114:108,10[B ]| nice young ladies. Oh! it is a very nice word indeed! ~~ 114:108,11[B ]| it does for every*thing. Originally perhaps it was applied 114:108,12[B ]| only to express neatness, propriety, delicacy, or refinement; ~~ 114:108,13[B ]| people were nice in their dress, in their sentiments, 114:108,14[B ]| or their choice. But now every commendation on every 114:108,15[B ]| subject is comprised in that one word." 114:108,16[C ]| "While, in fact," 114:108,16[' ]| cried his sister, 114:108,16[C ]| "it ought only to be 114:108,17[C ]| applied to you, without any commendation at all. You 114:108,18[C ]| are more nice than wise. Come, Miss*Morland, let us 114:108,19[C ]| leave him to meditate over our faults in the utmost 114:108,20[C ]| propriety of diction, while we praise Udolpho in whatever 114:108,21[C ]| terms we like best. It is a most interesting work. You 114:108,22[C ]| are fond of that kind of reading?" 114:108,23[A ]| "To say the truth, I do not much like any other." 114:108,24[C ]| "Indeed!" 114:108,25[A ]| "That is, I can read poetry and plays, and things of 114:108,26[A ]| that sort, and do not dislike travels. But history, real 114:108,27[A ]| solemn history, I cannot be interested in. Can you?" 114:108,28[C ]| "Yes, I am fond of history." 114:108,29[A ]| "I wish I were too. I read it a little as a duty, but it 114:108,30[A ]| tells me nothing that does not either vex or weary me. 114:108,31[A ]| The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars or pestilences, 114:108,32[A ]| in every page; the men all so good for nothing, and 114:108,33[A ]| hardly any women at all ~~ it is very tiresome: and yet 114:108,34[A ]| I often think it odd that it should be so dull, for a great 114:108,35[A ]| deal of it must be invention. The speeches that are put 114:108,36[A ]| into the heroes' mouths, their thoughts and designs ~~ the 114:108,37[A ]| chief of all this must be invention, and invention is what 114:108,38[A ]| delights me in other books." 114:109,01[C ]| "Historians, you think," 114:109,01[' ]| said Miss*Tilney, 114:109,01[C ]| "are not 114:109,02[C ]| happy in their flights of fancy. They display imagination 114:109,03[C ]| without raising interest. I am fond of history ~~ and 114:109,04[C ]| am very well contented to take the false with the true. 114:109,05[C ]| In the principal facts they have sources of intelligence in 114:109,06[C ]| former histories and records, which may be as much 114:109,07[C ]| depended on, I conclude, as any*thing that does not 114:109,08[C ]| actually pass under one's own observation; and as for 114:109,09[C ]| the little embellishments you speak of, they are embellishments, 114:109,10[C ]| and I like them as such. If a speech be well drawn 114:109,11[C ]| up, I read it with pleasure, by whomsoever it may be 114:109,12[C ]| made ~~ and probably with much greater, if the production 114:109,13[C ]| of Mr%*Hume or Mr%*Robertson, than if the genuine words 114:109,14[C ]| of Caractacus, Agricola, or Alfred*the*Great." 114:109,15[A ]| "You are fond of history! ~~ and so are Mr%*Allen and 114:109,16[A ]| my father; and I have two brothers who do not dislike 114:109,17[A ]| it. So many instances within my small circle of friends 114:109,18[A ]| is remarkable! At this rate, I shall not pity the writers 114:109,19[A ]| of history any longer. If people like to read their books, 114:109,20[A ]| it is all very well, but to be at so much trouble in filling 114:109,21[A ]| great volumes, which, as I used to think, nobody would 114:109,22[A ]| willingly ever look into, to be labouring only for the 114:109,23[A ]| torment of little boys and girls, always struck me as 114:109,24[A ]| a hard fate; and though I know it is all very right and 114:109,25[A ]| necessary, I have often wondered at the person's courage 114:109,26[A ]| that could sit down on purpose to do it." 114:109,27[B ]| "That little boys and girls should be tormented," 114:109,27[' ]| said 114:109,28[' ]| Henry, 114:109,28[B ]| "is what no*one at all acquainted with human 114:109,29[B ]| nature in a civilized state can deny; but in behalf of our 114:109,30[B ]| most distinguished historians, I must observe, that they 114:109,31[B ]| might well be offended at being supposed to have no 114:109,32[B ]| higher aim; and that by their method and style, they are 114:109,33[B ]| perfectly well qualified to torment readers of the most 114:109,34[B ]| advanced reason and mature time of life. I use the verb 114:109,35[B ]| ""to torment"", as I observed to be your own method, 114:109,36[B ]| instead of ""to instruct,"" supposing them to be now 114:109,37[B ]| admitted as synonimous." 114:109,38[A ]| "You think me foolish to call instruction a torment, 114:110,01[A ]| but if you had been as much used as myself to hear poor 114:110,02[A ]| little children first learning their letters and then learning 114:110,03[A ]| to spell, if you had ever seen how stupid they can be 114:110,04[A ]| for a whole morning together, and how tired my poor 114:110,05[A ]| mother is at the end of it, as I am in the habit of seeing 114:110,06[A ]| almost every day of my life at home, you would allow 114:110,07[A ]| that to \torment\ and to \instruct\ might sometimes be used 114:110,08[A ]| as synonimous words." 114:110,09[B ]| "Very probably. But historians are not accountable 114:110,10[B ]| for the difficulty of learning to read; and even you yourself, 114:110,11[B ]| who do not altogether seem particularly friendly to 114:110,12[B ]| very severe, very intense application, may perhaps be 114:110,13[B ]| brought to acknowledge that it is very well worth while 114:110,14[B ]| to be tormented for two or three years of one's life, for 114:110,15[B ]| the sake of being able to read all the rest of it. Consider ~~ 114:110,16[B ]| if reading had not been taught Mrs%*Radcliffe would have 114:110,17[B ]| written in vain ~~ or perhaps might not have written 114:110,18[B ]| at all." 114:110,19[' ]| Catherine assented ~~ and a very warm panegyric from 114:110,20[' ]| her on that lady's merits, closed the subject. ~~ The Tilneys 114:110,21[' ]| were soon engaged in another on which she had nothing 114:110,22[' ]| to say. They were viewing the country with the eyes of 114:110,23[' ]| persons accustomed to drawing, and decided on its 114:110,24[' ]| capability of being formed into pictures, with all the 114:110,25[' ]| eagerness of real taste. Here Catherine was quite lost. 114:110,26[' ]| She knew nothing of drawing ~~ nothing of taste: ~~ and 114:110,27[' ]| she listened to them with an attention which brought her 114:110,28[' ]| little profit, for they talked in phrases which conveyed 114:110,29[' ]| scarcely any idea to her. The little which she could 114:110,30[' ]| understand however appeared to contradict the very few 114:110,31[' ]| notions she had entertained on the matter before. 114:110.31@a | It 114:110,32@a | seemed as if a good view were no longer to be taken 114:110,33@a | from the top of an high hill, and that a clear blue sky 114:110,34@a | was no longer a proof of a fine day. 114:110,34[' ]| She was heartily 114:110,35[' ]| ashamed of her ignorance. A misplaced shame. Where 114:110,36[' ]| people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. 114:110,37[' ]| To come with a well-informed mind, is to come with an 114:110,38[' ]| inability of administering to the vanity of others, which 114:111,01[' ]| a sensible person would always wish to avoid. A woman 114:111,02[' ]| especially, if she have the misfortune of knowing any*thing, 114:111,03[' ]| should conceal it as well as she can. 114:111,04[' ]| The advantages of natural folly in a beautiful girl have 114:111,05[' ]| been already set forth by the capital pen of a sister 114:111,06[' ]| author; ~~ and to her treatment of the subject I will only 114:111,07[' ]| add in justice to men, that though to the larger and more 114:111,08[' ]| trifling part of the sex, imbecility in females is a great 114:111,09[' ]| enhancement of their personal charms, there is a portion 114:111,10[' ]| of them too reasonable and too well informed themselves 114:111,11[' ]| to desire any*thing more in woman than ignorance. But 114:111,12[' ]| Catherine did not know her own advantages ~~ did not 114:111,13[' ]| know that a good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart 114:111,14[' ]| and a very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attracting a clever 114:111,15[' ]| young man, unless circumstances are particularly untoward. 114:111,16[' ]| In the present instance, she confessed and 114:111,17[' ]| lamented her want of knowledge; declared that 114:111,17@a | she 114:111,18@a | would give any*thing in the world to be able to draw; 114:111,19[' ]| and a lecture on the picturesque immediately followed, 114:111,20[' ]| in which his instructions were so clear that she soon 114:111,21[' ]| began to see beauty in every*thing admired by him, and 114:111,22[' ]| her attention was so earnest, that he became perfectly 114:111,23[' ]| satisfied of her having a great deal of natural taste. He 114:111,24[' ]| talked of fore-grounds, distances, and second distances ~~ 114:111,25[' ]| side-screens and perspectives ~~ lights and shades; ~~ and 114:111,26[' ]| Catherine was so hopeful a scholar, that when they gained 114:111,27[' ]| the top of Beechen*Cliff, she voluntarily rejected the whole 114:111,28[' ]| city of Bath, as unworthy to make part of a landscape. 114:111,29[' ]| Delighted with her progress, and fearful of wearying her 114:111,30[' ]| with too much wisdom at once, Henry suffered the subject 114:111,31[' ]| to decline, and by an easy transition from a piece of rocky 114:111,32[' ]| fragment and the withered oak which he had placed near 114:111,33[' ]| its summit, to oaks in general, to forests, the inclosure of 114:111,34[' ]| them, waste lands, crown lands and government, he 114:111,35[' ]| shortly found himself arrived at politics; and from 114:111,36[' ]| politics, it was an easy step to silence. The general pause 114:111,37[' ]| which succeeded his short disquisition on the state of the 114:111,38[' ]| nation, was put an end to by Catherine, who, in rather 114:112,01[' ]| a solemn tone of voice, uttered these words, 114:112,01[A ]| "I have 114:112,02[A ]| heard that something very shocking indeed, will soon 114:112,03[A ]| come out in London." 114:112,04[' ]| Miss*Tilney, to whom this was chiefly addressed, was 114:112,05[' ]| startled, and hastily replied, 114:112,05[C ]| "Indeed! ~~ and of what 114:112,06[C ]| nature?" 114:112,07[A ]| "That I do not know, nor who is the author. I have 114:112,08[A ]| only heard that it is to be more horrible than any*thing 114:112,09[A ]| we have met with yet." 114:112,10[C ]| "Good heaven! ~~ Where could you hear of such a 114:112,11[C ]| thing?" 114:112,12[A ]| "A particular friend of mine had an account of it in 114:112,13[A ]| a letter from London yesterday. It is to be uncommonly 114:112,14[A ]| dreadful. I shall expect murder and every*thing of the 114:112,15[A ]| kind." 114:112,16[C ]| "You speak with astonishing composure! But I hope 114:112,17[C ]| your friend's accounts have been exaggerated; ~~ and if 114:112,18[C ]| such a design is known beforehand, proper measures will 114:112,19[C ]| undoubtedly be taken by government to prevent its 114:112,20[C ]| coming to effect." 114:112,21[B ]| "Government," 114:112,21[' ]| said Henry, endeavouring not to smile, 114:112,22[B ]| "neither desires nor dares to interfere in such matters. 114:112,23[B ]| There must be murder; and government cares not how 114:112,24[B ]| much." 114:112,25[' ]| The ladies stared. He laughed, and added, 114:112,25[B ]| "Come, 114:112,26[B ]| shall I make you understand each other, or leave you to 114:112,27[B ]| puzzle out an explanation as you can? No ~~ I will be 114:112,28[B ]| noble. I will prove myself a man, no less by the generosity 114:112,29[B ]| of my soul than the clearness of my head. I have no 114:112,30[B ]| patience with such of my sex as disdain to let themselves 114:112,31[B ]| sometimes down to the comprehension of yours. Perhaps 114:112,32[B ]| the abilities of women are neither sound nor acute ~~ 114:112,33[B ]| neither vigorous nor keen. Perhaps they may want 114:112,34[B ]| observation, discernment, judgment, fire, genius, and 114:112,35[B ]| wit." 114:112,36[C ]| "Miss*Morland, do not mind what he says; ~~ but have 114:112,37[C ]| the goodness to satisfy me as to this dreadful riot." 114:112,38[A ]| "Riot! ~~ what riot?" 114:113,01[B ]| "My dear Eleanor, the riot is only in your own brain. 114:113,02[B ]| The confusion there is scandalous. Miss*Morland has 114:113,03[B ]| been talking of nothing more dreadful than a new publication 114:113,04[B ]| which is shortly to come out, in three duodecimo 114:113,05[B ]| volumes, two hundred and seventy-six pages in each, 114:113,06[B ]| with a frontispiece to the first, of two tombstones and 114:113,07[B ]| a lantern ~~ do you understand? ~~ And you, Miss*Morland 114:113,08[B ]| ~~ my stupid sister has mistaken all your clearest expressions. 114:113,09[B ]| You talked of expected horrors in London ~~ and 114:113,10[B ]| instead of instantly conceiving, as any rational creature 114:113,11[B ]| would have done, that such words could relate only to 114:113,12[B ]| a circulating library, she immediately pictured to herself 114:113,13[B ]| a mob of three thousand men assembling in St%*George's*Fields; 114:113,14[B ]| the Bank attacked, the Tower threatened, the 114:113,15[B ]| streets of London flowing with blood, a detachment of the 114:113,16[B ]| 12th Light*Dragoons, (the hopes of the nation,) called up 114:113,17[B ]| from Northampton to quell the insurgents, and the 114:113,18[B ]| gallant Capt%*Frederick*Tilney, in the moment of charging 114:113,19[B ]| at the head of his troop, knocked off his horse by a brickbat 114:113,20[B ]| from an upper window. Forgive her stupidity. The fears 114:113,21[B ]| of the sister have added to the weakness of the woman; 114:113,22[B ]| but she is by no means a simpleton in general." 114:113,23[' ]| Catherine looked grave. 114:113,23[C ]| "And now, Henry," 114:113,23[' ]| said 114:113,24[' ]| Miss*Tilney 114:113,24[C ]| "that you have made us understand each 114:113,25[C ]| other, you may as well make Miss*Morland understand 114:113,26[C ]| yourself ~~ unless you mean to have her think you intolerably 114:113,27[C ]| rude to your sister, and a great brute in your 114:113,28[C ]| opinion of women in general. Miss*Morland is not used 114:113,29[C ]| to your odd ways." 114:113,30[B ]| "I shall be most happy to make her better acquainted 114:113,31[B ]| with them." 114:113,32[C ]| "No doubt; ~~ but that is no explanation of the 114:113,33[C ]| present." 114:113,34[B ]| "What am I to do?" 114:113,35[C ]| "You know what you ought to do. Clear your character 114:113,36[C ]| handsomely before her. Tell her that you think very 114:113,37[C ]| highly of the understanding of women." 114:113,38[B ]| "Miss*Morland, I think very highly of the understanding 114:114,01[B ]| of all the women in the world ~~ especially of those ~~ 114:114,02[B ]| whoever they may be ~~ with whom I happen to be in 114:114,03[B ]| company." 114:114,04[C ]| "That is not enough. Be more serious." 114:114,05[B ]| "Miss*Morland, no*one can think more highly of the 114:114,06[B ]| understanding of women than I do. In my opinion, 114:114,07[B ]| nature has given them so much, that they never find it 114:114,08[B ]| necessary to use more than half." 114:114,09[C ]| "We shall get nothing more serious from him now, 114:114,10[C ]| Miss*Morland. He is not in a sober mood. But I do 114:114,11[C ]| assure you that he must be entirely misunderstood, if he 114:114,12[C ]| can ever appear to say an unjust thing of any woman at 114:114,13[C ]| all, or an unkind one of me." 114:114,14[' ]| It was no effort to Catherine to believe that Henry*Tilney 114:114,15[' ]| could never be wrong. 114:114,15@a | His manner might sometimes 114:114,16@a | surprize, but his meaning must always be just: ~~ 114:114,17[' ]| and what she did not understand, she was almost as ready 114:114,18[' ]| to admire, as what she did. The whole walk was delightful, 114:114,19[' ]| and though it ended too soon, its conclusion was delightful 114:114,20[' ]| too; ~~ her friends attended her into the house, and Miss*Tilney, 114:114,21[' ]| before they parted, addressing herself with respectful 114:114,22[' ]| form, as much to Mrs%*Allen as to Catherine, petitioned 114:114,23[' ]| for the pleasure of her company to dinner on the day 114:114,24[' ]| after the next. No difficulty was made on Mrs%*Allen's 114:114,25[' ]| side ~~ and the only difficulty on Catherine's was in concealing 114:114,26[' ]| the excess of her pleasure. 114:114,27[' ]| The morning had passed away so charmingly as to 114:114,28[' ]| banish all her friendship and natural affection; for no 114:114,29[' ]| thought of Isabella or James had crossed her during 114:114,30[' ]| their walk. When the Tilneys were gone, she became 114:114,31[' ]| amiable again, but she was amiable for some time to 114:114,32[' ]| little effect; Mrs%*Allen had no intelligence to give that 114:114,33[' ]| could relieve her anxiety, she had heard nothing of any 114:114,34[' ]| of them. Towards the end of the morning however, 114:114,35[' ]| Catherine having occasion for some indispensable yard of 114:114,36[' ]| ribbon which must be bought without a moment's delay, 114:114,37[' ]| walked out into the town, and in Bond-street overtook 114:114,38[' ]| the second Miss*Thorpe, as she was loitering towards 114:115,01[' ]| Edgar's*Buildings between two of the sweetest girls in the 114:115,02[' ]| world, who had been her dear friends all the morning. 114:115,03[' ]| From her, she soon learned that the party to Clifton had 114:115,04[' ]| taken place. 114:115,04[O ]| "They set off at eight this morning," 114:115,04[' ]| said 114:115,05[' ]| Miss*Anne, 114:115,05[O ]| "and I am sure I do not envy them their 114:115,06[O ]| drive. I think you and I are very well off to be out of 114:115,07[O ]| the scrape. ~~ It must be the dullest thing in the world, 114:115,08[O ]| for there is not a soul at Clifton at this time of year. 114:115,09[O ]| Belle went with your brother, and John drove Maria." 114:115,10[' ]| Catherine spoke the pleasure she really felt on hearing 114:115,11[' ]| this part of the arrangement. 114:115,12[O ]| "Oh! yes," 114:115,12[' ]| rejoined the other, 114:115,12[O ]| "Maria is gone. She 114:115,13[O ]| was quite wild to go. She thought it would be something 114:115,14[O ]| very fine. I cannot say I admire her taste; and for my 114:115,15[O ]| part I was determined from the first not to go, if they 114:115,16[O ]| pressed me ever so much." 114:115,17[' ]| Catherine, a little doubtful of this, could not help 114:115,18[' ]| answering, 114:115,18[A ]| "I wish you could have gone too. It is a pity 114:115,19[A ]| you could not all go." 114:115,20[O ]| "Thank you; but it is quite a matter of indifference 114:115,21[O ]| to me. Indeed, I would not have gone on any account. 114:115,22[O ]| I was saying so to Emily and Sophia when you over*took 114:115,23[O ]| us." 114:115,24[' ]| Catherine was still unconvinced; but glad that Anne 114:115,25[' ]| should have the friendship of an Emily and a Sophia to 114:115,26[' ]| console her, she bade her adieu without much uneasiness, 114:115,27[' ]| and returned home, pleased that the party had not been 114:115,28[' ]| prevented by her refusing to join it, and very heartily 114:115,29[' ]| wishing that it might be too pleasant to allow either James 114:115,30[' ]| or Isabella to resent her resistance any longer. 115:116,01[' ]| Early the next day, a note from Isabella, speaking 115:116,02[' ]| peace and tenderness in every line, and entreating the 115:116,03[' ]| immediate presence of her friend on a matter of the 115:116,04[' ]| utmost importance, hastened Catherine, in the happiest 115:116,05[' ]| state of confidence and curiosity, to Edgar's*Buildings. ~~ 115:116,06[' ]| The two youngest Miss*Thorpes were by themselves in 115:116,07[' ]| the parlour; and, on Anne's quitting it to call her sister, 115:116,08[' ]| Catherine took the opportunity of asking the other for 115:116,09[' ]| some particulars of their yesterday's party. Maria desired 115:116,10[' ]| no greater pleasure than to speak of it; and Catherine 115:116,11[' ]| immediately learnt that 115:116,11@p | it had been altogether the most 115:116,12@p | delightful scheme in the world; that nobody could 115:116,13@p | imagine how charming it had been, and that it had been 115:116,14@p | more delightful than any*body could conceive. 115:116,14[' ]| Such was 115:116,15[' ]| the information of the first five minutes; the second 115:116,16[' ]| unfolded thus much in detail, ~~ 115:116,16@p | that they had driven 115:116,17@p | directly to the York*Hotel, ate some soup, and bespoke 115:116,18@p | an early dinner, walked down to the Pump-room, tasted 115:116,19@p | the water, and laid out some shillings in purses and spars; 115:116,20@p | thence adjourned to eat ice at a pastry-cook's, and hurrying 115:116,21@p | back to the Hotel, swallowed their dinner in haste, to 115:116,22@p | prevent being in the dark; and then had a delightful 115:116,23@p | drive back, only the moon was not up, and it rained 115:116,24@p | a little, and Mr%*Morland's horse was so tired he could 115:116,25@p | hardly get it along. 115:116,26[' ]| Catherine listened with heartfelt satisfaction. 115:116,26@a | It 115:116,27@a | appeared that Blaize*Castle had never been thought 115:116,28@a | of; and, as for all the rest, there was nothing to regret 115:116,29@a | for half an instant. ~~ 115:116,29[' ]| Maria's intelligence concluded with 115:116,30[' ]| a tender effusion of pity for her sister Anne, whom she 115:116,31[' ]| represented as insupportably cross, from being excluded 115:116,32[' ]| the party. 115:116,33[P ]| "She will never forgive me, I am sure; but, you know, 115:117,01[P ]| how could I help it? John would have me go, for he 115:117,02[P ]| vowed he would not drive her, because she had such 115:117,03[P ]| thick ancles. I dare say she will not be in good*humour 115:117,04[P ]| again this month; but I am determined I will not be 115:117,05[P ]| cross; it is not a little matter that puts me out of temper." 115:117,06[' ]| Isabella now entered the room with so eager a step, 115:117,07[' ]| and a look of such happy importance, as engaged all her 115:117,08[' ]| friend's notice. Maria was without ceremony sent away, 115:117,09[' ]| and Isabella, embracing Catherine, thus began: ~~ 115:117,09[D ]| "Yes, 115:117,10[D ]| my dear Catherine, it is so indeed; your penetration has 115:117,11[D ]| not deceived you. ~~ Oh! that arch eye of yours! ~~ It sees 115:117,12[D ]| through every*thing." 115:117,13[' ]| Catherine replied only by a look of wondering ignorance. 115:117,14[D ]| "Nay, my beloved, sweetest friend," 115:117,14[' ]| continued the 115:117,15[' ]| other, 115:117,15[D ]| "compose yourself. ~~ I am amazingly agitated, as 115:117,16[D ]| you perceive. Let us sit down and talk in comfort. Well, 115:117,17[D ]| and so you guessed it the moment you had my note? ~~ 115:117,18[D ]| Sly creature! ~~ Oh! my dear Catherine, you alone who 115:117,19[D ]| know my heart can judge of my present happiness. Your 115:117,20[D ]| brother is the most charming of men. I only wish I were 115:117,21[D ]| more worthy of him. ~~ But what will your excellent father 115:117,22[D ]| and mother say? ~~ Oh! heavens! when I think of them 115:117,23[D ]| I am so agitated!" 115:117,24[' ]| Catherine's understanding began to awake: an idea 115:117,25[' ]| of the truth suddenly darted into her mind; and, with 115:117,26[' ]| the natural blush of so new an emotion, she cried out, 115:117,27[A ]| "Good heaven! ~~ my dear Isabella, what do you mean? 115:117,28[A ]| Can you ~~ can you really be in love with James?" 115:117,29[' ]| This bold surmise, however, she soon learnt comprehended 115:117,30[' ]| but half the fact. The anxious affection, which 115:117,31[' ]| she was accused of having continually watched in Isabella's 115:117,32[' ]| every look and action, had, in the course of their yesterday's 115:117,33[' ]| party, received the delightful confession of an equal 115:117,34[' ]| love. 115:117,34@d | Her heart and faith were alike engaged to James. ~~ 115:117,35[' ]| Never had Catherine listened to any*thing so full of 115:117,36[' ]| interest, wonder, and joy. 115:117,36@a | Her brother and her friend 115:117,37@a | engaged! ~~ 115:117,37[' ]| New to such circumstances, the importance of 115:117,38[' ]| it appeared unspeakably great, and she contemplated it 115:118,01[' ]| as one of those grand events, of which the ordinary course 115:118,02[' ]| of life can hardly afford a return. The strength of her 115:118,03[' ]| feelings she could not express; the nature of them, 115:118,04[' ]| however, contented her friend. The happiness of having 115:118,05[' ]| such a sister was their first effusion, and the fair ladies 115:118,06[' ]| mingled in embraces and tears of joy. 115:118,07[' ]| Delighting, however, as Catherine sincerely did in the 115:118,08[' ]| prospect of the connexion, it must be acknowledged that 115:118,09[' ]| Isabella far surpassed her in tender anticipations. ~~ 115:118,09[D ]| "You 115:118,10[D ]| will be so infinitely dearer to me, my Catherine, than 115:118,11[D ]| either Anne or Maria: I feel that I shall be so much more 115:118,12[D ]| attached to my dear Morland's family than to my own." 115:118,13[' ]| This was a pitch of friendship beyond Catherine. 115:118,14[D ]| "You are so like your dear brother," 115:118,14[' ]| continued Isabella, 115:118,15[D ]| "that I quite doated on you the first moment I saw you. 115:118,16[D ]| But so it always is with me; the first moment settles 115:118,17[D ]| every*thing. The very first day that Morland came to us 115:118,18[D ]| last Christmas ~~ the very first moment I beheld him ~~ my 115:118,19[D ]| heart was irrecoverably gone. I remember I wore my 115:118,20[D ]| yellow gown, with my hair done up in braids; and when 115:118,21[D ]| I came into the drawing-room, and John introduced him, 115:118,22[D ]| I thought I never saw any*body so handsome before." 115:118,23[' ]| Here Catherine secretly acknowledged the power of 115:118,24[' ]| love; for, though exceedingly fond of her brother, and 115:118,25[' ]| partial to all his endowments, she had never in her life 115:118,26[' ]| thought him handsome. 115:118,27[D ]| "I remember too, Miss*Andrews drank tea with us that 115:118,28[D ]| evening, and wore her puce-coloured sarsenet; and she 115:118,29[D ]| looked so heavenly, that I thought your brother must 115:118,30[D ]| certainly fall in love with her; I could not sleep a wink 115:118,31[D ]| all night for thinking of it. Oh! Catherine, the many 115:118,32[D ]| sleepless nights I have had on your brother's account! ~~ 115:118,33[D ]| I would not have you suffer half what I have done! 115:118,34[D ]| I am grown wretchedly thin I know; but I will not pain 115:118,35[D ]| you by describing my anxiety; you have seen enough of 115:118,36[D ]| it. I feel that I have betrayed myself perpetually; ~~ so 115:118,37[D ]| unguarded in speaking of my partiality for the church! ~~ 115:118,38[D ]| But my secret I was always sure would be safe with \you\." 115:119,01[' ]| Catherine felt that nothing could have been safer; but 115:119,02[' ]| ashamed of an ignorance little expected, she dared no 115:119,03[' ]| longer contest the point, nor refuse to have been as full 115:119,04[' ]| of arch penetration and affectionate sympathy as Isabella 115:119,05[' ]| chose to consider her. Her brother she found was preparing 115:119,06[' ]| to set off with all speed to Fullerton, to make 115:119,07[' ]| known his situation and ask consent; and here was 115:119,08[' ]| a source of some real agitation to the mind of Isabella. 115:119,09[' ]| Catherine endeavoured to persuade her, as she was herself 115:119,10[' ]| persuaded, that her father and mother would never oppose 115:119,11[' ]| their son's wishes. ~~ 115:119,11[A ]| "It is impossible," 115:119,11[' ]| said she, 115:119,11[A ]| "for 115:119,12[A ]| parents to be more kind, or more desirous of their children's 115:119,13[A ]| happiness; I have no doubt of their consenting immediately." 115:119,14[A ]| 115:119,15[D ]| "Morland says exactly the same," 115:119,15[' ]| replied Isabella; 115:119,16[D ]| "and yet I dare not expect it; my fortune will be so 115:119,17[D ]| small; they never can consent to it. Your brother, who 115:119,18[D ]| might marry any*body!" 115:119,19[' ]| Here Catherine again discerned the force of love. 115:119,20[A ]| "Indeed, Isabella, you are too humble. ~~ The difference 115:119,21[A ]| of fortune can be nothing to signify." 115:119,22[D ]| "Oh! my sweet Catherine, in \your\ generous heart 115:119,23[D ]| I know it would signify nothing; but we must not expect 115:119,24[D ]| such disinterestedness in many. As for myself, I am sure 115:119,25[D ]| I only wish our situations were reversed. Had I the 115:119,26[D ]| command of millions, were I mistress of the whole world, 115:119,27[D ]| your brother would be my only choice." 115:119,28[' ]| This charming sentiment, recommended as much by 115:119,29[' ]| sense as novelty, gave Catherine a most pleasing remembrance 115:119,30[' ]| of all the heroines of her acquaintance; and she 115:119,31[' ]| thought her friend never looked more lovely than in 115:119,32[' ]| uttering the grand idea. ~~ 115:119,32[A ]| "I am sure they will consent," 115:119,33[' ]| was her frequent declaration; 115:119,33[A ]| "I am sure they will be 115:119,34[A ]| delighted with you." 115:119,35[D ]| "For my own part," 115:119,35[' ]| said Isabella, 115:119,35[D ]| "my wishes are so 115:119,36[D ]| moderate, that the smallest income in nature would be 115:119,37[D ]| enough for me. Where people are really attached, 115:119,38[D ]| poverty itself is wealth: grandeur I detest: I would 115:120,01[D ]| not settle in London for the universe. A cottage in some 115:120,02[D ]| retired village would be extasy. There are some charming 115:120,03[D ]| little villas about Richmond." 115:120,04[A ]| "Richmond!" 115:120,04[' ]| cried Catherine. ~~ 115:120,04[A ]| "You must settle 115:120,05[A ]| near Fullerton. You must be near us." 115:120,06[D ]| "I am sure I shall be miserable if we do not. If I can 115:120,07[D ]| but be near \you\, I shall be satisfied. But this is idle 115:120,08[D ]| talking! I will not allow myself to think of such things, 115:120,09[D ]| till we have your father's answer. Morland says that by 115:120,10[D ]| sending it to-night to Salisbury, we may have it to-morrow. ~~ 115:120,11[D ]| To-morrow? ~~ I know I shall never have 115:120,12[D ]| courage to open the letter. I know it will be the death 115:120,13[D ]| of me." 115:120,14[' ]| A reverie succeeded this conviction ~~ and when Isabella 115:120,15[' ]| spoke again, it was to resolve on the quality of her 115:120,16[' ]| wedding-gown. 115:120,17[' ]| Their conference was put an end to by the anxious 115:120,18[' ]| young lover himself, who came to breathe his parting 115:120,19[' ]| sigh before he set off for Wiltshire. Catherine wished to 115:120,20[' ]| congratulate him, but knew not what to say, and her 115:120,21[' ]| eloquence was only in her eyes. From them however the 115:120,22[' ]| eight parts of speech shone out most expressively, and 115:120,23[' ]| James could combine them with ease. Impatient for the 115:120,24[' ]| realization of all that he hoped at home, his adieus were 115:120,25[' ]| not long; and they would have been yet shorter, had he 115:120,26[' ]| not been frequently detained by the urgent entreaties 115:120,27[' ]| of his fair one that he would go. Twice was he called 115:120,28[' ]| almost from the door by her eagerness to have him gone. 115:120,29[D ]| "Indeed, Morland, I must drive you away. Consider 115:120,30[D ]| how far you have to ride. I cannot bear to see you linger 115:120,31[D ]| so. For Heaven's sake, waste no more time. There, go, 115:120,32[D ]| go ~~ I insist on it." 115:120,33[' ]| The two friends, with hearts now more united than 115:120,34[' ]| ever, were inseparable for the day; and in schemes of 115:120,35[' ]| sisterly happiness the hours flew along. Mrs%*Thorpe and 115:120,36[' ]| her son, who were acquainted with every*thing, and who 115:120,37[' ]| seemed only to want Mr%*Morland's consent, to consider 115:120,38[' ]| Isabella's engagement as the most fortunate circumstance 115:121,01[' ]| imaginable for their family, were allowed to join their 115:121,02[' ]| counsels, and add their quota of significant looks and 115:121,03[' ]| mysterious expressions to fill up the measure of curiosity 115:121,04[' ]| to be raised in the unprivileged younger sisters. To 115:121,05[' ]| Catherine's simple feelings, this odd sort of reserve seemed 115:121,06[' ]| neither kindly meant, nor consistently supported; and 115:121,07[' ]| its unkindness she would hardly have forborn pointing 115:121,08[' ]| out, had its inconsistency been less their friend; ~~ but 115:121,09[' ]| Anne and Maria soon set her heart at ease by the sagacity 115:121,10[' ]| of their 115:121,10[Y ]| "I know what;" 115:121,10[' ]| and the evening was spent in 115:121,11[' ]| a sort of war of wit, a display of family ingenuity; on 115:121,12[' ]| one side in the mystery of an affected secret, on the other 115:121,13[' ]| of undefined discovery, all equally acute. 115:121,14[' ]| Catherine was with her friend again the next day, 115:121,15[' ]| endeavouring to support her spirits, and while away the 115:121,16[' ]| many tedious hours before the delivery of the letters; 115:121,17[' ]| a needful exertion, for as the time of reasonable expectation 115:121,18[' ]| drew near, Isabella became more and more desponding, 115:121,19[' ]| and before the letter arrived, had worked herself into 115:121,20[' ]| a state of real distress. But when it did come, where 115:121,21[' ]| could distress be found? 115:121,21[K ]| "I have had no difficulty in 115:121,22[K ]| gaining the consent of my kind parents, and am promised 115:121,23[K ]| that every*thing in their power shall be done to forward 115:121,24[K ]| my happiness," 115:121,24[' ]| were the first three lines, and in one 115:121,25[' ]| moment all was joyful security. The brightest glow was 115:121,26[' ]| instantly spread over Isabella's features, all care and 115:121,27[' ]| anxiety seemed removed, her spirits became almost 115:121,28[' ]| too high for controul, and she called herself without 115:121,29[' ]| scruple the happiest of mortals. 115:121,30[' ]| Mrs%*Thorpe, with tears of joy, embraced her daughter, 115:121,31[' ]| her son, her visitor, and could have embraced half the 115:121,32[' ]| inhabitants of Bath with satisfaction. Her heart was 115:121,33[' ]| overflowing with tenderness. It was 115:121,33[N ]| "dear John," 115:121,33[' ]| and 115:121,34[N ]| "dear Catherine" 115:121,34[' ]| at every word; ~~ 115:121,34[N ]| "dear Anne and 115:121,35[N ]| dear Maria" 115:121,35[' ]| must immediately be made sharers in their 115:121,36[' ]| felicity; and two "dears" at once before the name of 115:121,37[' ]| Isabella were not more than that beloved child had now 115:121,38[' ]| well earned. John himself was no skulker in joy. He 115:122,01[' ]| not only bestowed on Mr%*Morland the high commendation 115:122,02[' ]| of being one of the finest fellows in the world, but 115:122,03[' ]| swore off many sentences in his praise. 115:122,04[' ]| The letter, whence sprang all this felicity, was short, 115:122,05[' ]| containing little more than this assurance of success; 115:122,06[' ]| and every particular was deferred till James could write 115:122,07[' ]| again. But for particulars Isabella could well afford to 115:122,08[' ]| wait. The needful was comprised in Mr%*Morland's 115:122,09[' ]| promise; his honour was pledged to make every*thing 115:122,10[' ]| easy; and by what means their income was to be formed, 115:122,11[' ]| whether landed property were to be resigned, or funded 115:122,12[' ]| money made over, was a matter in which her disinterested 115:122,13[' ]| spirit took no concern. She knew enough to feel 115:122,14[' ]| secure of an honourable and speedy establishment, and 115:122,15[' ]| her imagination took a rapid flight over its attendant 115:122,16[' ]| felicities. She saw herself at the end of a few weeks, 115:122,17[' ]| the gaze and admiration of every new acquaintance at 115:122,18[' ]| Fullerton, the envy of every valued old friend in Putney, 115:122,19[' ]| with a carriage at her command, a new name on her 115:122,20[' ]| tickets, and a brilliant exhibition of hoop rings on her 115:122,21[' ]| finger. 115:122,22[' ]| When the contents of the letter were ascertained, John*Thorpe, 115:122,23[' ]| who had only waited its arrival to begin his 115:122,24[' ]| journey to London, prepared to set off. 115:122,24[E ]| "Well, Miss*Morland," 115:122,25[' ]| said he, on finding her alone in the parlour, 115:122,26[E ]| "I am come to bid you good*bye." 115:122,26[' ]| Catherine wished 115:122,27[' ]| him a good journey. Without appearing to hear her, he 115:122,28[' ]| walked to the window, fidgetted about, hummed a tune, 115:122,29[' ]| and seemed wholly self-occupied. 115:122,30[A ]| "Shall not you be late at Devizes?" 115:122,30[' ]| said Catherine. 115:122,31[' ]| He made no answer; but after a minute's silence burst 115:122,32[' ]| out with, 115:122,32[E ]| "A famous good thing this marrying scheme, 115:122,33[E ]| upon my soul! A clever fancy of Morland's and Belle's. 115:122,34[E ]| What do you think of it, Miss*Morland? \I\ say it is no 115:122,35[E ]| bad notion." 115:122,36[A ]| "I am sure I think it a very good one." 115:122,37[E ]| "Do you? ~~ that's honest, by heavens! I am glad 115:122,38[E ]| you are no enemy to matrimony however. Did you ever 115:123,01[E ]| hear the old song, ""Going to one wedding brings on 115:123,02[E ]| another?"" I say, you will come to Belle's wedding, 115:123,03[E ]| I hope." 115:123,04[A ]| "Yes; I have promised your sister to be with her, if 115:123,05[A ]| possible." 115:123,06[E ]| "And then you know" ~~ 115:123,06[' ]| twisting himself about and 115:123,07[' ]| forcing a foolish laugh~ 115:123,07[E ]| "I say, then you know, we may 115:123,08[E ]| try the truth of this same old song." 115:123,09[A ]| "May we? ~~ but I never sing. Well, I wish you a good 115:123,10[A ]| journey. I dine with Miss*Tilney to-day, and must now 115:123,11[A ]| be going home." 115:123,12[E ]| "Nay, but there is no such confounded hurry. ~~ Who 115:123,13[E ]| knows when we may be together again? ~~ Not but that 115:123,14[E ]| I shall be down again by the end of a fortnight, and 115:123,15[E ]| a devilish long fortnight it will appear to me." 115:123,16[A ]| "Then why do you stay away so long?" 115:123,16[' ]| replied 115:123,17[' ]| Catherine ~~ finding that he waited for an answer. 115:123,18[E ]| "That is kind of you, however ~~ kind and good-natured. ~~ 115:123,19[E ]| I shall not forget it in a hurry. ~~ But you have 115:123,20[E ]| more good-nature and all that, than any*body living 115:123,21[E ]| I believe. A monstrous deal of good-nature, and it is 115:123,22[E ]| not only good-nature, but you have so much, so much of 115:123,23[E ]| every*thing; and then you have such ~~ upon my soul 115:123,24[E ]| I do not know any*body like you." 115:123,25[A ]| "Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me, 115:123,26[A ]| I dare say, only a great deal better. Good morning 115:123,27[A ]| to you." 115:123,28[E ]| "But I say, Miss*Morland, I shall come and pay my 115:123,29[E ]| respects at Fullerton before it is long, if not disagreeable." 115:123,30[E ]| 115:123,31[A ]| "Pray do. ~~ My father and mother will be very glad to 115:123,32[A ]| see you." 115:123,33[E ]| "And I hope ~~ I hope, Miss*Morland, \you\ will not be 115:123,34[E ]| sorry to see me." 115:123,35[A ]| "Oh! dear, not at all. There are very few people 115:123,36[A ]| I am sorry to see. Company is always cheerful." 115:123,37[E ]| "That is just my way of thinking. Give me but 115:123,38[E ]| a little cheerful company, let me only have the company 115:124,01[E ]| of the people I love, let me only be where I like and with 115:124,02[E ]| whom I like, and the devil take the rest, say I. ~~ And 115:124,03[E ]| I am heartily glad to hear you say the same. But I have 115:124,04[E ]| a notion, Miss*Morland, you and I think pretty much 115:124,05[E ]| alike upon most matters." 115:124,06[A ]| "Perhaps we may; but it is more than I ever thought 115:124,07[A ]| of. And as to \most\ \matters\, to say the truth, there are 115:124,08[A ]| not many that I know my own mind about." 115:124,09[E ]| "By Jove, no more do I. It is not my way to bother 115:124,10[E ]| my brains with what does not concern me. My notion 115:124,11[E ]| of things is simple enough. Let me only have the girl 115:124,12[E ]| I like, say I, with a comfortable house over my head, and 115:124,13[E ]| what care I for all the rest? Fortune is nothing. I am 115:124,14[E ]| sure of a good income of my own; and if she had not 115:124,15[E ]| a penny, why so much the better." 115:124,16[A ]| "Very true. I think like you there. If there is a good 115:124,17[A ]| fortune on one side, there can be no occasion for any on 115:124,18[A ]| the other. No matter which has it, so that there is enough. 115:124,19[A ]| I hate the idea of one great fortune looking out for another. 115:124,20[A ]| And to marry for money I think the wickedest thing in 115:124,21[A ]| existence. ~~ Good day. ~~ We shall be very glad to see you 115:124,22[A ]| at Fullerton, whenever it is convenient." 115:124,22[' ]| And away she 115:124,23[' ]| went. It was not in the power of all his gallantry to 115:124,24[' ]| detain her longer. With such news to communicate, and 115:124,25[' ]| such a visit to prepare for, her departure was not to be 115:124,26[' ]| delayed by any*thing in his nature to urge; and she 115:124,27[' ]| hurried away, leaving him to the undivided consciousness 115:124,28[' ]| of his own happy address, and her explicit encouragement. 115:124,29[' ]| 115:124,30[' ]| The agitation which she had herself experienced on 115:124,31[' ]| first learning her brother's engagement, made her expect 115:124,32[' ]| to raise no inconsiderable emotion in Mr% and Mrs%*Allen, 115:124,33[' ]| by the communication of the wonderful event. How 115:124,34[' ]| great was her disappointment! The important affair, 115:124,35[' ]| which many words of preparation ushered in, had been 115:124,36[' ]| foreseen by them both ever since her brother's arrival; 115:124,37[' ]| and all that they felt on the occasion was comprehended 115:124,38[' ]| in a wish for the young people's happiness, with a remark, 115:125,01[' ]| on the gentleman's side, in favour of Isabella's beauty, 115:125,02[' ]| and on the lady's, of her great good luck. It was to 115:125,03[' ]| Catherine the most surprizing insensibility. The disclosure 115:125,04[' ]| however of the great secret of James's going to 115:125,05[' ]| Fullerton the day before, did raise some emotion in Mrs%*Allen. 115:125,06[' ]| She could not listen to that with perfect calmness; 115:125,07[' ]| but repeatedly 115:125,07@i | regretted the necessity of its concealment, 115:125,08@i | wished she could have known his intention, wished she 115:125,09@i | could have seen him before he went, as she should certainly 115:125,10@i | have troubled him with her best regards to his father 115:125,11@i | and mother, and her kind compliments to all the Skinners. 201:129,01[' ]| Catherine's expectations of pleasure from her visit in 201:129,02[' ]| Milsom-street were so very high, that disappointment 201:129,03[' ]| was inevitable; and accordingly, though she was most 201:129,04[' ]| politely received by General*Tilney, and kindly welcomed 201:129,05[' ]| by his daughter, though Henry was at home, and no*one 201:129,06[' ]| else of the party, she found, on her return, without 201:129,07[' ]| spending many hours in the examination of her feelings, 201:129,08[' ]| that she had gone to her appointment preparing for 201:129,09[' ]| happiness which it had not afforded. Instead of finding 201:129,10[' ]| herself improved in acquaintance with Miss*Tilney, from 201:129,11[' ]| the intercourse of the day, she seemed hardly so intimate 201:129,12[' ]| with her as before; instead of seeing Henry*Tilney to 201:129,13[' ]| greater advantage than ever, in the ease of a family party, 201:129,14[' ]| he had never said so little, nor been so little agreeable; 201:129,15[' ]| and, in spite of their father's great civilities to her ~~ in 201:129,16[' ]| spite of his thanks, invitations, and compliments ~~ it had 201:129,17[' ]| been a release to get away from him. It puzzled her to 201:129,18[' ]| account for all this. 201:129,18@a | It could not be General*Tilney's 201:129,19@a | fault. 201:129,19[' ]| That he was perfectly agreeable and good-natured, 201:129,20[' ]| and altogether a very charming man, did not 201:129,21[' ]| admit of a doubt, for he was tall and handsome, and 201:129,22[' ]| Henry's father. 201:129,22@a | \He\ could not be accountable for his 201:129,23@a | children's want of spirits, or for her want of enjoyment 201:129,24@a | in his company. 201:129,24[' ]| The former she hoped at last might 201:129,25[' ]| have been accidental, and the latter she could only 201:129,26[' ]| attribute to her own stupidity. Isabella, on hearing the 201:129,27[' ]| particulars of the visit, gave a different explanation: 201:129,28[D ]| "It was all pride, pride, insufferable haughtiness and 201:129,29[D ]| pride!" 201:129,29@d | She had long suspected the family to be very high, 201:130,01@d | and this made it certain. Such insolence of behaviour as 201:130,02@d | Miss*Tilney's she had never heard of in her life! Not to 201:130,03@d | do the honours of her house with common good-breeding! 201:130,04@d | ~~ To behave to her guest with such superciliousness! ~~ 201:130,05@d | Hardly even to speak to her! 201:130,06[A ]| "But it was not so bad as that, Isabella; there was no 201:130,07[A ]| superciliousness; she was very civil." 201:130,08[D ]| "Oh! don't defend her! And then the brother, he 201:130,09[D ]| who had appeared so attached to you! Good heavens! 201:130,10[D ]| well, some people's feelings are incomprehensible. And 201:130,11[D ]| so he hardly looked once at you the whole day?" 201:130,12[A ]| "I do not say so; but he did not seem in good spirits." 201:130,13[D ]| "How contemptible! Of all things in the world 201:130,14[D ]| inconstancy is my aversion. Let me entreat you never 201:130,15[D ]| to think of him again, my dear Catherine; indeed he is 201:130,16[D ]| unworthy of you." 201:130,17[A ]| "Unworthy! I do not suppose he ever thinks of me." 201:130,18[D ]| "That is exactly what I say; he never thinks of 201:130,19[D ]| you. ~~ Such fickleness! Oh! how different to your 201:130,20[D ]| brother and to mine! I really believe John has the most 201:130,21[D ]| constant heart." 201:130,22[A ]| "But as for General*Tilney, I assure you it would be 201:130,23[A ]| impossible for any*body to behave to me with greater 201:130,24[A ]| civility and attention; it seemed to be his only care to 201:130,25[A ]| entertain and make me happy." 201:130,26[D ]| "Oh! I know no harm of him; I do not suspect him 201:130,27[D ]| of pride. I believe he is a very gentleman-like man. 201:130,28[D ]| John thinks very well of him, and John's judgment ~~" 201:130,29[A ]| "Well, I shall see how they behave to me this evening; 201:130,30[A ]| we shall meet them at the rooms." 201:130,31[D ]| "And must I go?" 201:130,32[A ]| "Do not you intend it? I thought it was all settled." 201:130,33[D ]| "Nay, since you make such a point of it, I can refuse 201:130,34[D ]| you nothing. But do not insist upon my being very 201:130,35[D ]| agreeable, for my heart, you know, will be some forty 201:130,36[D ]| miles off. And as for dancing, do not mention it I beg; 201:130,37[D ]| \that\ is quite out of the question. Charles*Hodges will 201:130,38[D ]| plague me to death I dare say; but I shall cut him very 201:131,01[D ]| short. Ten to one but he guesses the reason, and that 201:131,02[D ]| is exactly what I want to avoid, so I shall insist on his 201:131,03[D ]| keeping his conjecture to himself." 201:131,04[' ]| Isabella's opinion of the Tilneys did not influence her 201:131,05[' ]| friend; she was sure there had been no insolence in the 201:131,06[' ]| manners either of brother or sister; and she did not 201:131,07[' ]| credit there being any pride in their hearts. The evening 201:131,08[' ]| rewarded her confidence; she was met by one with the 201:131,09[' ]| same kindness, and by the other with the same attention 201:131,10[' ]| as heretofore: Miss*Tilney took pains to be near her, 201:131,11[' ]| and Henry asked her to dance. 201:131,12[' ]| Having heard the day before in Milsom-street, that 201:131,13[' ]| their elder brother, Captain*Tilney, was expected almost 201:131,14[' ]| every hour, she was at no loss for the name of a very 201:131,15[' ]| fashionable-looking, handsome young man, whom she had 201:131,16[' ]| never seen before, and who now evidently belonged to 201:131,17[' ]| their party. She looked at him with great admiration, 201:131,18@a | and even supposed it possible, that some people might 201:131,19@a | think him handsomer than his brother, though, in her 201:131,20@a | eyes, his air was more assuming, and his countenance 201:131,21@a | less prepossessing. His taste and manners were beyond 201:131,22@a | a doubt decidedly inferior; 201:131,22[' ]| for, within her hearing, he 201:131,23[' ]| not only protested against every thought of dancing 201:131,24[' ]| himself, but even laughed openly at Henry for finding it 201:131,25[' ]| possible. 201:131,26[' ]| From the latter circumstance it may be presumed, 201:131,26[' ]| that, whatever might be our heroine's opinion of 201:131,27[' ]| him, his admiration of her was not of a very dangerous 201:131,28[' ]| kind; not likely to produce animosities between the 201:131,29[' ]| brothers, nor persecutions to the lady. \He\ cannot be the 201:131,30[' ]| instigator of the three villains in horsemen's great*coats, 201:131,31[' ]| by whom she will hereafter be forced into a travelling-chaise 201:131,32[' ]| and four, which will drive off with incredible speed. 201:131,33[' ]| Catherine, meanwhile, undisturbed by presentiments of 201:131,34[' ]| such an evil, or of any evil at all, except that of having 201:131,35[' ]| but a short set to dance down, enjoyed her usual happiness 201:131,36[' ]| with Henry*Tilney, listening with sparkling eyes to every*thing 201:131,37[' ]| he said; and, in finding him irresistible, becoming 201:131,38[' ]| so herself. 201:132,01[' ]| At the end of the first dance, Captain*Tilney came 201:132,02[' ]| towards them again, and, much to Catherine's dissatisfaction, 201:132,03[' ]| pulled his brother away. They retired whispering 201:132,04[' ]| together; and, though her delicate sensibility did not 201:132,05[' ]| take immediate alarm, and lay it down as fact, that 201:132,06[' ]| Captain*Tilney must have heard some malevolent misrepresentation 201:132,07[' ]| of her, which he now hastened to communicate 201:132,08[' ]| to his brother, in the hope of separating them for*ever, 201:132,09[' ]| she could not have her partner conveyed from her 201:132,10[' ]| sight without very uneasy sensations. Her suspense 201:132,11[' ]| was of full five minutes' duration; and she was beginning 201:132,12[' ]| to think it a very long quarter of an hour, when they 201:132,13[' ]| both returned, and an explanation was given, by Henry's 201:132,14[' ]| requesting to know, 201:132,14@b | if she thought her friend, Miss*Thorpe, 201:132,15@b | would have any objection to dancing, as his 201:132,16@b | brother would be most happy to be introduced to her. 201:132,17[' ]| Catherine, without hesitation, replied, that 201:132,17@a | she was very 201:132,18@a | sure Miss*Thorpe did not mean to dance at all. 201:132,18[' ]| The 201:132,19[' ]| cruel reply was passed on to the other, and he immediately 201:132,20[' ]| walked away. 201:132,21[A ]| "Your brother will not mind it I know," 201:132,21[' ]| said she, 201:132,22[A ]| "because I heard him say before, that he hated dancing; 201:132,23[A ]| but it was very good-natured in him to think of it. I suppose 201:132,24[A ]| he saw Isabella sitting down, and fancied she might 201:132,25[A ]| wish for a partner; but he is quite mistaken, for she 201:132,26[A ]| would not dance upon any account in the world." 201:132,27[' ]| Henry smiled, and said, 201:132,27[B ]| "How very little trouble it 201:132,28[B ]| can give you to understand the motive of other people's 201:132,29[B ]| actions." 201:132,30[A ]| "Why? ~~ What do you mean?" 201:132,31[B ]| "With you, it is not, How is such a one likely to be 201:132,32[B ]| influenced? What is the inducement most likely to act 201:132,33[B ]| upon such a person's feelings, age, situation, and probable 201:132,34[B ]| habits of life considered? ~~ but, how should \I\ be influenced, 201:132,35[B ]| what would be \my\ inducement in acting so and so?" 201:132,36[A ]| "I do not understand you." 201:132,37[B ]| "Then we are on very unequal terms, for I understand 201:132,38[B ]| you perfectly well." 201:133,01[A ]| "Me? ~~ yes; I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible." 201:133,02[A ]| 201:133,03[B ]| "Bravo! ~~ an excellent satire on modern language." 201:133,04[A ]| "But pray tell me what you mean." 201:133,05[B ]| "Shall I indeed? ~~ Do you really desire it? ~~ But you 201:133,06[B ]| are not aware of the consequences; it will involve you 201:133,07[B ]| in a very cruel embarrassment, and certainly bring on 201:133,08[B ]| a disagreement between us." 201:133,09[A ]| "No, no; it shall not do either; I am not afraid." 201:133,10[B ]| "Well then, I only meant that your attributing my 201:133,11[B ]| brother's wish of dancing with Miss*Thorpe to good-nature 201:133,12[B ]| alone, convinced me of your being superior in 201:133,13[B ]| good-nature yourself to all the rest of the world." 201:133,14[' ]| Catherine blushed and disclaimed, and the gentleman's 201:133,15[' ]| predictions were verified. There was a something, however, 201:133,16[' ]| in his words which repaid her for the pain of confusion; 201:133,17[' ]| and that something occupied her mind so much, 201:133,18[' ]| that she drew back for some time, forgetting to speak 201:133,19[' ]| or to listen, and almost forgetting where she was; till, 201:133,20[' ]| roused by the voice of Isabella, she looked up and saw 201:133,21[' ]| her with Captain*Tilney preparing to give them hands 201:133,22[' ]| across. 201:133,23[' ]| Isabella shrugged her shoulders and smiled, the only 201:133,24[' ]| explanation of this extraordinary change which could at 201:133,25[' ]| that time be given; but as it was not quite enough for 201:133,26[' ]| Catherine's comprehension, she spoke her astonishment 201:133,27[' ]| in very plain terms to her partner. 201:133,28[A ]| "I cannot think how it could happen! Isabella was so 201:133,29[A ]| determined not to dance." 201:133,30[B ]| "And did Isabella never change her mind before?" 201:133,31[A ]| "Oh! but, because ~~ and your brother! ~~ After what 201:133,32[A ]| you told him from me, how could he think of going to 201:133,33[A ]| ask her?" 201:133,34[B ]| "I cannot take surprize to myself on that head. You 201:133,35[B ]| bid me be surprized on your friend's account, and therefore 201:133,36[B ]| I am; but as for my brother, his conduct in the 201:133,37[B ]| business, I must own, has been no more than I believed 201:133,38[B ]| him perfectly equal to. The fairness of your friend was 201:134,01[B ]| an open attraction; her firmness, you know, could only 201:134,02[B ]| be understood by yourself." 201:134,03[A ]| "You are laughing; but, I assure you, Isabella is very 201:134,04[A ]| firm in general." 201:134,05[B ]| "It is as much as should be said of any*one. To be 201:134,06[B ]| always firm must be to be often obstinate. When 201:134,07[B ]| properly to relax is the trial of judgment; and, without 201:134,08[B ]| reference to my brother, I really think Miss*Thorpe 201:134,09[B ]| has by no means chosen ill in fixing on the present 201:134,10[B ]| hour." 201:134,11[' ]| The friends were not able to get together for any 201:134,12[' ]| confidential discourse till all the dancing was over; but 201:134,13[' ]| then, as they walked about the room arm in arm, Isabella 201:134,14[' ]| thus explained herself: ~~ 201:134,14[D ]| "I do not wonder at your 201:134,15[D ]| surprize; and I am really fatigued to death. He is such 201:134,16[D ]| a rattle! ~~ Amusing enough, if my mind had been disengaged; 201:134,17[D ]| but I would have given the world to sit still." 201:134,18[A ]| "Then why did not you?" 201:134,19[D ]| "Oh! my dear! it would have looked so particular; 201:134,20[D ]| and you know how I abhor doing that. I refused him 201:134,21[D ]| as long as I possibly could, but he would take no denial. 201:134,22[D ]| You have no idea how he pressed me. I begged him to 201:134,23[D ]| excuse me, and get some other partner ~~ but no, not he; 201:134,24[D ]| after aspiring to my hand, there was nobody else in the 201:134,25[D ]| room he could bear to think of; and it was not that he 201:134,26[D ]| wanted merely to dance, he wanted to be with \me\. Oh! 201:134,27[D ]| such nonsense! ~~ I told him he had taken a very unlikely 201:134,28[D ]| way to prevail upon me; for, of all things in the world, 201:134,29[D ]| I hated fine speeches and compliments; ~~ and so ~~ 201:134,30[D ]| and so then I found there would be no peace if I did not 201:134,31[D ]| stand up. Besides, I thought Mrs%*Hughes, who introduced 201:134,32[D ]| him, might take it ill if I did not: and your dear 201:134,33[D ]| brother, I am sure he would have been miserable if I had 201:134,34[D ]| sat down the whole evening. I am so glad it is over! 201:134,35[D ]| My spirits are quite jaded with listening to his nonsense: 201:134,36[D ]| and then, ~~ being such a smart young fellow, I saw every 201:134,37[D ]| eye was upon us." 201:134,38[A ]| "He is very handsome indeed." 201:135,01[D ]| "Handsome! ~~ Yes, I suppose he may. I dare say 201:135,02[D ]| people would admire him in general; but he is not at all 201:135,03[D ]| in my style of beauty. I hate a florid complexion and 201:135,04[D ]| dark eyes in a man. However, he is very well. Amazingly 201:135,05[D ]| conceited, I am sure. I took him down several 201:135,06[D ]| times you know in my way." 201:135,07[' ]| When the young ladies next met, they had a far more 201:135,08[' ]| interesting subject to discuss. James*Morland's second 201:135,09[' ]| letter was then received, and the kind intentions of his 201:135,10[' ]| father fully explained. A living, of which Mr%*Morland 201:135,11[' ]| was himself patron and incumbent, of about four hundred 201:135,12[' ]| pounds yearly value, was to be resigned to his son as 201:135,13[' ]| soon as he should be old enough to take it; no trifling 201:135,14[' ]| deduction from the family income, no niggardly assignment 201:135,15[' ]| to one of ten children. An estate of at least equal 201:135,16[' ]| value, moreover, was assured as his future inheritance. 201:135,17[' ]| James expressed himself on the occasion with becoming 201:135,18[' ]| gratitude; and the necessity of waiting between two and 201:135,19[' ]| three years before they could marry, being, however 201:135,20[' ]| unwelcome, no more than he had expected, was born by 201:135,21[' ]| him without discontent. Catherine, whose expectations 201:135,22[' ]| had been as unfixed as her ideas of her father's income, 201:135,23[' ]| and whose judgment was now entirely led by her 201:135,24[' ]| brother, felt equally well satisfied, and heartily congratulated 201:135,25[' ]| Isabella on having every*thing so pleasantly 201:135,26[' ]| settled. 201:135,27[D ]| "It is very charming indeed," 201:135,27[' ]| said Isabella, with 201:135,28[' ]| a grave face. 201:135,28[N ]| "Mr%*Morland has behaved vastly handsome 201:135,29[N ]| indeed," 201:135,29[' ]| said the gentle Mrs%*Thorpe, looking 201:135,30[' ]| anxiously at her daughter. 201:135,30[N ]| "I only wish I could do as 201:135,31[N ]| much. One could not expect more from him you know. 201:135,32[N ]| If he finds he \can\ do more by*and*bye, I dare say he will, 201:135,33[N ]| for I am sure he must be an excellent good*hearted 201:135,34[N ]| man. Four hundred is but a small income to begin 201:135,35[N ]| on indeed, but your wishes, my dear Isabella, are so 201:135,36[N ]| moderate, you do not consider how little you ever want, 201:135,37[N ]| my dear." 201:135,38[D ]| "It is not on my own account I wish for more; but 201:136,01[D ]| I cannot bear to be the means of injuring my dear Morland, 201:136,02[D ]| making him sit down upon an income hardly enough to 201:136,03[D ]| find one in the common necessaries of life. For myself, 201:136,04[D ]| it is nothing; I never think of myself." 201:136,05[N ]| "I know you never do, my dear; and you will always 201:136,06[N ]| find your reward in the affection it makes every*body 201:136,07[N ]| feel for you. There never was a young woman so beloved 201:136,08[N ]| as you are by every*body that knows you; and I dare say 201:136,09[N ]| when Mr%*Morland sees you, my dear child ~~ but do not 201:136,10[N ]| let us distress our dear Catherine by talking of such 201:136,11[N ]| things. Mr%*Morland has behaved so very handsome you 201:136,12[N ]| know. I always heard he was a most excellent man; 201:136,13[N ]| and you know, my dear, we are not to suppose but what, 201:136,14[N ]| if you had had a suitable fortune, he would have come 201:136,15[N ]| down with something more, for I am sure he must be 201:136,16[N ]| a most liberal-minded man." 201:136,17[D ]| "Nobody can think better of Mr%*Morland than I do, 201:136,18[D ]| I am sure. But every*body has their failing you know, 201:136,19[D ]| and every*body has a right to do what they like with 201:136,20[D ]| their own money." 201:136,20[' ]| Catherine was hurt by these insinuations. 201:136,21[A ]| "I am very sure," 201:136,21[' ]| said she, 201:136,21[A ]| "that my father has 201:136,22[A ]| promised to do as much as he can afford." 201:136,23[' ]| Isabella recollected herself. 201:136,23[D ]| "As to that, my sweet 201:136,24[D ]| Catherine, there cannot be a doubt, and you know me 201:136,25[D ]| well enough to be sure that a much smaller income would 201:136,26[D ]| satisfy me. It is not the want of more money that makes 201:136,27[D ]| me just at present a little out of spirits; I hate money; 201:136,28[D ]| and if our union could take place now upon only fifty 201:136,29[D ]| pounds a year, I should not have a wish unsatisfied. Ah! 201:136,30[D ]| my Catherine, you have found me out. There's the sting. 201:136,31[D ]| The long, long, endless two years and half that are to pass 201:136,32[D ]| before your brother can hold the living." 201:136,33[N ]| "Yes, yes, my darling Isabella," 201:136,33[' ]| said Mrs%*Thorpe, 201:136,34[N ]| "we perfectly see into your heart. You have no disguise. 201:136,35[N ]| We perfectly understand the present vexation; and 201:136,36[N ]| every*body must love you the better for such a noble 201:136,37[N ]| honest affection." 201:136,38[' ]| Catherine's uncomfortable feelings began to lessen. 201:137,01[' ]| She endeavoured to believe that the delay of the marriage 201:137,02[' ]| was the only source of Isabella's regret; and when she 201:137,03[' ]| saw her at their next interview as cheerful and amiable 201:137,04[' ]| as ever, endeavoured to forget that she had for a minute 201:137,05[' ]| thought otherwise. James soon followed his letter, and 201:137,06[' ]| was received with the most gratifying kindness. 202:138,01[' ]| The Allens had now entered on the sixth week of their 202:138,02[' ]| stay in Bath; and whether it should be the last, was for 202:138,03[' ]| some time a question, to which Catherine listened with 202:138,04[' ]| a beating heart. To have her acquaintance with the 202:138,05[' ]| Tilneys end so soon, was an evil which nothing could 202:138,06[' ]| counterbalance. Her whole happiness seemed at stake, 202:138,07[' ]| while the affair was in suspense, and every*thing secured 202:138,08[' ]| when it was determined that the lodgings should be taken 202:138,09[' ]| for another fortnight. What this additional fortnight 202:138,10[' ]| was to produce to her beyond the pleasure of sometimes 202:138,11[' ]| seeing Henry*Tilney, made but a small part of Catherine's 202:138,12[' ]| speculation. Once or twice indeed, since James's engagement 202:138,13[' ]| had taught her what \could\ be done, she had got so 202:138,14[' ]| far as to indulge in a secret "perhaps," but in general 202:138,15[' ]| the felicity of being with him for the present bounded her 202:138,16[' ]| views: the present was now comprised in another three 202:138,17[' ]| weeks, and her happiness being certain for that period, 202:138,18[' ]| the rest of her life was at such a distance as to excite 202:138,19[' ]| but little interest. In the course of the morning which 202:138,20[' ]| saw this business arranged, she visited Miss*Tilney, and 202:138,21[' ]| poured forth her joyful feelings. It was doomed to be 202:138,22[' ]| a day of trial. No sooner had she expressed her delight 202:138,23[' ]| in Mr%*Allen's lengthened stay, than Miss*Tilney told her 202:138,24[' ]| of her father's having just determined upon quitting Bath 202:138,25[' ]| by the end of another week. Here was a blow! The 202:138,26[' ]| past suspense of the morning had been ease and quiet to 202:138,27[' ]| the present disappointment. Catherine's countenance 202:138,28[' ]| fell, and in a voice of most sincere concern she echoed 202:138,29[' ]| Miss*Tilney's concluding words, 202:138,29[A ]| "By the end of another 202:138,30[A ]| week!" 202:138,31[C ]| "Yes, my father can seldom be prevailed on to give 202:138,32[C ]| the waters what I think a fair trial. He has been disappointed 202:138,33[C ]| of some friends' arrival whom he expected to 202:139,01[C ]| meet here, and as he is now pretty well, is in a hurry to 202:139,02[C ]| get home." 202:139,03[A ]| "I am very sorry for it," 202:139,03[' ]| said Catherine dejectedly, 202:139,04[A ]| "if I had known this before ~~" 202:139,05[C ]| "Perhaps," 202:139,05[' ]| said Miss*Tilney in an embarrassed manner, 202:139,06[C ]| "you would be so good ~~ it would make me very happy 202:139,07[C ]| if ~" 202:139,08[' ]| The entrance of her father put a stop to the civility, 202:139,09[' ]| which Catherine was beginning to hope might introduce 202:139,10[' ]| a desire of their corresponding. After addressing her 202:139,11[' ]| with his usual politeness, he turned to his daughter and 202:139,12[' ]| said, 202:139,12[F ]| "Well, Eleanor, may I congratulate you on being 202:139,13[F ]| successful in your application to your fair friend?" 202:139,14[C ]| "I was just beginning to make the request, sir, as you 202:139,15[C ]| came in." 202:139,16[F ]| "Well, proceed by all means. I know how much your 202:139,17[F ]| heart is in it. My daughter, Miss*Morland," 202:139,17[' ]| he continued, 202:139,18[' ]| without leaving his daughter time to speak, 202:139,18[F ]| "has been 202:139,19[F ]| forming a very bold wish. We leave Bath, as she has 202:139,20[F ]| perhaps told you, on Saturday se'nnight. A letter from 202:139,21[F ]| my steward tells me that my presence is wanted at home; 202:139,22[F ]| and being disappointed in my hope of seeing the Marquis*of*Longtown 202:139,23[F ]| and General*Courteney here, some of my 202:139,24[F ]| very old friends, there is nothing to detain me longer in 202:139,25[F ]| Bath. And could we carry our selfish point with you, 202:139,26[F ]| we should leave it without a single regret. Can you, in 202:139,27[F ]| short, be prevailed on to quit this scene of public triumph 202:139,28[F ]| and oblige your friend Eleanor with your company in 202:139,29[F ]| Gloucestershire? I am almost ashamed to make the 202:139,30[F ]| request, though its presumption would certainly appear 202:139,31[F ]| greater to every creature in Bath than yourself. Modesty 202:139,32[F ]| such as your's ~~ but not for the world would I pain it by 202:139,33[F ]| open praise. If you can be induced to honour us with 202:139,34[F ]| a visit, you will make us happy beyond expression. 202:139,35[F ]| 'Tis true, we can offer you nothing like the gaieties of this 202:139,36[F ]| lively place; we can tempt you neither by amusement 202:139,37[F ]| nor splendour, for our mode of living, as you see, is plain 202:139,38[F ]| and unpretending; yet no endeavours shall be wanting 202:140,01[F ]| on our side to make Northanger*Abbey not wholly 202:140,02[F ]| disagreeable." 202:140,03[' ]| Northanger*Abbey! ~~ These were thrilling words, and 202:140,04[' ]| wound up Catherine's feelings to the highest point of 202:140,05[' ]| extasy. Her grateful and gratified heart could hardly 202:140,06[' ]| restrain its expressions within the language of tolerable 202:140,07[' ]| calmness. 202:140,07@a | To receive so flattering an invitation! To 202:140,08@a | have her company so warmly solicited! 202:140,08[' ]| Every*thing 202:140,09[' ]| honourable and soothing, every present enjoyment, and 202:140,10[' ]| every future hope was contained in it; and her acceptance, 202:140,11[' ]| with only the saving clause of papa and mamma's approbation, 202:140,12[' ]| was eagerly given. ~~ 202:140,12[A ]| "I will write home directly," 202:140,13[' ]| said she, 202:140,13[A ]| "and if they do not object, as I dare say they 202:140,14[A ]| will not" ~~ 202:140,15[' ]| General*Tilney was not less sanguine, having already 202:140,16[' ]| waited on her excellent friends in Pulteney-street, and 202:140,17[' ]| obtained their sanction of his wishes. 202:140,17[F ]| "Since they can 202:140,18[F ]| consent to part with you," 202:140,18[' ]| said he, 202:140,18[F ]| "we may expect 202:140,19[F ]| philosophy from all the world." 202:140,20[' ]| Miss*Tilney was earnest, though gentle, in her secondary 202:140,21[' ]| civilities, and the affair became in a few minutes as nearly 202:140,22[' ]| settled, as this necessary reference to Fullerton would 202:140,23[' ]| allow. 202:140,24[' ]| The circumstances of the morning had led Catherine's 202:140,25[' ]| feelings through the varieties of suspense, security, and 202:140,26[' ]| disappointment; but they were now safely lodged in 202:140,27[' ]| perfect bliss; and with spirits elated to rapture, with 202:140,28[' ]| Henry at her heart, and Northanger*Abbey on her lips, 202:140,29[' ]| she hurried home to write her letter. Mr% and Mrs%*Morland, 202:140,30[' ]| relying on the discretion of the friends to whom 202:140,31[' ]| they had already entrusted their daughter, felt no doubt 202:140,32[' ]| of the propriety of an acquaintance which had been 202:140,33[' ]| formed under their eye, and sent therefore by return of 202:140,34[' ]| post their ready consent to her visit in Gloucestershire. 202:140,35[' ]| This indulgence, though not more than Catherine had 202:140,36[' ]| hoped for, completed her conviction of being favoured 202:140,37[' ]| beyond every other human creature, in friends and 202:140,38[' ]| fortune, circumstance and chance. 202:140,38@a | Every*thing seemed 202:141,01@a | to co-operate for her advantage. By the kindness of her 202:141,02@a | first friends the Allens, she had been introduced into 202:141,03@a | scenes, where pleasures of every kind had met her. Her 202:141,04@a | feelings, her preferences had each known the happiness 202:141,05@a | of a return. Wherever she felt attachment, she had been 202:141,06@a | able to create it. The affection of Isabella was to be 202:141,07@a | secured to her in a sister. The Tilneys, they, by whom 202:141,08@a | above all, she desired to be favourably thought of, 202:141,09@a | outstripped even her wishes in the flattering measures by 202:141,10@a | which their intimacy was to be continued. She was to 202:141,11@a | be their chosen visitor, she was to be for weeks under 202:141,12@a | the same roof with the person whose society she mostly 202:141,13@a | prized ~~ and, in addition to all the rest, this roof was to 202:141,14@a | be the roof of an abbey! ~~ 202:141,14[' ]| Her passion for ancient edifices 202:141,15[' ]| was next in degree to her passion for Henry*Tilney ~~ and 202:141,16[' ]| castles and abbies made usually the charm of those 202:141,17[' ]| reveries which his image did not fill. To see and explore 202:141,18[' ]| either the ramparts and keep of the one, or the cloisters 202:141,19[' ]| of the other, had been for many weeks a darling wish, 202:141,20[' ]| though to be more than the visitor of an hour, had seemed 202:141,21[' ]| too nearly impossible for desire. And yet, this was to 202:141,22[' ]| happen. With all the chances against her of house, hall, 202:141,23[' ]| place, park, court, and cottage, Northanger turned up an 202:141,24[' ]| abbey, and she was to be its inhabitant. 202:141,24@a | Its long, damp 202:141,25@a | passages, its narrow cells and ruined chapel, were to be 202:141,26@a | within her daily reach, 202:141,26[' ]| and she could not entirely subdue 202:141,27[' ]| the hope of some traditional legends, some awful memorials 202:141,28[' ]| of an injured and ill-fated nun. 202:141,29@a | It was wonderful that her friends should seem so little 202:141,30@a | elated by the possession of such a home; that the consciousness 202:141,31@a | of it should be so meekly born. The power of 202:141,32@a | early habit only could account for it. A distinction to 202:141,33@a | which they had been born gave no pride. Their superiority 202:141,34@a | of abode was no more to them than their superiority of 202:141,35@a | person. 202:141,36[' ]| Many were the inquiries she was eager to make of 202:141,37[' ]| Miss*Tilney; but so active were her thoughts, that when 202:141,38[' ]| these inquiries were answered, she was hardly more 202:142,01[' ]| assured than before, of Northanger*Abbey having been 202:142,02[' ]| a richly-endowed convent at the time of the Reformation, 202:142,03[' ]| of its having fallen into the hands of an ancestor of the 202:142,04[' ]| Tilneys on its dissolution, of a large portion of the ancient 202:142,05[' ]| building still making a part of the present dwelling 202:142,06[' ]| although the rest was decayed, or of its standing low in 202:142,07[' ]| a valley, sheltered from the north and east by rising 202:142,08[' ]| woods of oak. 203:143,01[' ]| With a mind thus full of happiness, Catherine was 203:143,02[' ]| hardly aware that two or three days had passed away, 203:143,03[' ]| without her seeing Isabella for more than a few minutes 203:143,04[' ]| together. She began first to be sensible of this, and to 203:143,05[' ]| sigh for her conversation, as she walked along the Pump-room 203:143,06[' ]| one morning, by Mrs%*Allen's side, without any*thing 203:143,07[' ]| to say or hear; and scarcely had she felt a five 203:143,08[' ]| minutes' longing of friendship, before the object of it 203:143,09[' ]| appeared, and inviting her to a secret conference, led the 203:143,10[' ]| way to a seat. 203:143,10[D ]| "This is my favourite place," 203:143,10[' ]| said she, 203:143,11[' ]| as they sat down on a bench between the doors, which 203:143,12[' ]| commanded a tolerable view of every*body entering at 203:143,13[' ]| either, 203:143,13[D ]| "it is so out of the way." 203:143,14[' ]| Catherine, observing that Isabella's eyes were continually bent 203:143,15[' ]| towards one door or the other, as in eager 203:143,16[' ]| expectation, and remembering how often she had been 203:143,17[' ]| falsely accused of being arch, thought the present a fine 203:143,18[' ]| opportunity for being really so; and therefore gaily said, 203:143,19[A ]| "Do not be uneasy, Isabella. James will soon be here." 203:143,20[D ]| "Psha! my dear creature," 203:143,20[' ]| she replied, 203:143,20[D ]| "do not think 203:143,21[D ]| me such a simpleton as to be always wanting to confine 203:143,22[D ]| him to my elbow. It would be hideous to be always 203:143,23[D ]| together; we should be the jest of the place. And so 203:143,24[D ]| you are going to Northanger! ~~ I am amazingly glad 203:143,25[D ]| of it. It is one of the finest old places in England, 203:143,26[D ]| I understand. I shall depend upon a most particular 203:143,27[D ]| description of it." 203:143,28[A ]| "You shall certainly have the best in my power to 203:143,29[A ]| give. But who are you looking for? Are your sisters 203:143,30[A ]| coming?" 203:143,31[D ]| "I am not looking for any*body. One's eyes must be 203:143,32[D ]| somewhere, and you know what a foolish trick I have 203:143,33[D ]| of fixing mine, when my thoughts are an hundred miles off. 203:144,01[D ]| I am amazingly absent; I believe I am the most absent 203:144,02[D ]| creature in the world. Tilney says it is always the case 203:144,03[D ]| with minds of a certain stamp." 203:144,04[A ]| "But I thought, Isabella, you had something in 203:144,05[A ]| particular to tell me?" 203:144,06[D ]| "Oh! yes, and so I have. But here is a proof of what 203:144,07[D ]| I was saying. My poor head! I had quite forgot it. 203:144,08[D ]| Well, the thing is this, I have just had a letter from 203:144,09[D ]| John; ~~ you can guess the contents." 203:144,10[A ]| "No, indeed, I cannot." 203:144,11[D ]| "My sweet love, do not be so abominably affected. 203:144,12[D ]| What can he write about, but yourself? You know he 203:144,13[D ]| is over head and ears in love with you." 203:144,14[A ]| "With \me\, dear Isabella!" 203:144,15[D ]| "Nay, my sweetest Catherine, this is being quite 203:144,16[D ]| absurd! Modesty, and all that, is very well in its way 203:144,17[D ]| but really a little common honesty is sometimes quite as 203:144,18[D ]| becoming. I have no idea of being so overstrained! 203:144,19[D ]| It is fishing for compliments. His attentions were such 203:144,20[D ]| as a child must have noticed. And it was but half an 203:144,21[D ]| hour before he left Bath, that you gave him the most 203:144,22[D ]| positive encouragement. He says so in this letter, says 203:144,23[D ]| that he as good as made you an offer, and that you 203:144,24[D ]| received his advances in the kindest way; and now he 203:144,25[D ]| wants me to urge his suit, and say all manner of pretty 203:144,26[D ]| things to you. So it is in vain to affect ignorance." 203:144,27[' ]| Catherine, with all the earnestness of truth, expressed 203:144,28[' ]| her astonishment at such a charge, protesting her innocence 203:144,29[' ]| of every thought of Mr%*Thorpe's being in love with 203:144,30[' ]| her, and the consequent impossibility of her having ever 203:144,31[' ]| intended to encourage him. 203:144,31[A ]| "As to any attentions on 203:144,32[A ]| his side, I do declare, upon my honour, I never was 203:144,33[A ]| sensible of them for a moment ~~ except just his asking me 203:144,34[A ]| to dance the first day of his coming. And as to making 203:144,35[A ]| me an offer, or any*thing like it, there must be some 203:144,36[A ]| unaccountable mistake. I could not have misunderstood 203:144,37[A ]| a thing of that kind, you know! ~~ and, as I ever wish to 203:144,38[A ]| be believed, I solemnly protest that no syllable of such 203:145,01[A ]| a nature ever passed between us. The last half hour 203:145,02[A ]| before he went away! ~~ It must be all and completely 203:145,03[A ]| a mistake ~~ for I did not see him once that whole morning." 203:145,04[D ]| "But \that\ you certainly did, for you spent the whole 203:145,05[D ]| morning in Edgar's*Buildings ~~ it was the day your 203:145,06[D ]| father's consent came ~~ and I am pretty sure that you 203:145,07[D ]| and John were alone in the parlour, some time before you 203:145,08[D ]| left the house." 203:145,09[A ]| "Are you? ~~ Well, if you say it, it was so, I dare say ~~ 203:145,10[A ]| but for the life of me, I cannot recollect it. ~~ I \do\ remember 203:145,11[A ]| now being with you, and seeing him as well as the rest ~~ but 203:145,12[A ]| that we were ever alone for five minutes ~~ However, it is 203:145,13[A ]| not worth arguing about, for whatever might pass on his 203:145,14[A ]| side, you must be convinced, by my having no recollection 203:145,15[A ]| of it, that I never thought, nor expected, nor wished for 203:145,16[A ]| any*thing of the kind from him. I am excessively concerned 203:145,17[A ]| that he should have any regard for me ~~ but 203:145,18[A ]| indeed it has been quite unintentional on my side, I never 203:145,19[A ]| had the smallest idea of it. Pray undeceive him as soon 203:145,20[A ]| as you can, and tell him I beg his pardon ~~ that is ~~ I do 203:145,21[A ]| not know what I ought to say ~~ but make him understand 203:145,22[A ]| what I mean, in the properest way. I would not speak 203:145,23[A ]| disrespectfully of a brother of your's, Isabella, I am sure; 203:145,24[A ]| but you know very well that if I could think of one man 203:145,25[A ]| more than another ~~ \he\ is not the person." 203:145,25[' ]| Isabella was 203:145,26[' ]| silent. 203:145,26[A ]| "My dear friend, you must not be angry with 203:145,27[A ]| me. I cannot suppose your brother cares so very much 203:145,28[A ]| about me. And, you know, we shall be sisters." 203:145,29[D ]| "Yes, yes," 203:145,29[' ]| (with a blush) 203:145,29[D ]| "there are more ways than 203:145,30[D ]| one of our being sisters. ~~ But where am I wandering 203:145,31[D ]| to? ~~ Well, my dear Catherine, the case seems to be, that 203:145,32[D ]| you are determined against poor John ~~ is not it so?" 203:145,33[A ]| "I certainly cannot return his affection, and as certainly 203:145,34[A ]| never meant to encourage it." 203:145,35[D ]| "Since that is the case, I am sure I shall not tease you 203:145,36[D ]| any further. John desired me to speak to you on the 203:145,37[D ]| subject, and therefore I have. But I confess, as soon as 203:145,38[D ]| I read his letter, I thought it a very foolish, imprudent 203:146,01[D ]| business, and not likely to promote the good of either; 203:146,02[D ]| for what were you to live upon, supposing you came 203:146,03[D ]| together? You have both of you something to be sure, 203:146,04[D ]| but it is not a trifle that will support a family now-a-days; 203:146,05[D ]| and after all that romancers may say, there is no doing 203:146,06[D ]| without money. I only wonder John could think of 203:146,07[D ]| it; he could not have received my last." 203:146,08[A ]| "You \do\ acquit me then of any*thing wrong? ~~ You 203:146,09[A ]| are convinced that I never meant to deceive your brother, 203:146,10[A ]| never suspected him of liking me till this moment?" 203:146,11[D ]| "Oh! as to that," 203:146,11[' ]| answered Isabella laughingly, 203:146,11[D ]| "I do 203:146,12[D ]| not pretend to determine what your thoughts and designs 203:146,13[D ]| in time past may have been. All that is best known to 203:146,14[D ]| yourself. A little harmless flirtation or so will occur, 203:146,15[D ]| and one is often drawn on to give more encouragement 203:146,16[D ]| than one wishes to stand by. But you may be assured 203:146,17[D ]| that I am the last person in the world to judge you 203:146,18[D ]| severely. All those things should be allowed for in 203:146,19[D ]| youth and high spirits. What one means one day, you 203:146,20[D ]| know, one may not mean the next. Circumstances 203:146,21[D ]| change, opinions alter." 203:146,22[A ]| "But my opinion of your brother never did alter; 203:146,23[A ]| it was always the same. You are describing what never 203:146,24[A ]| happened." 203:146,25[D ]| "My dearest Catherine," 203:146,25[' ]| continued the other without 203:146,26[' ]| at all listening to her, 203:146,26[D ]| "I would not for all the world be 203:146,27[D ]| the means of hurrying you into an engagement before 203:146,28[D ]| you knew what you were about. I do not think any*thing 203:146,29[D ]| would justify me in wishing you to sacrifice all your 203:146,30[D ]| happiness merely to oblige my brother, because he is my 203:146,31[D ]| brother, and who perhaps after all, you know, might be 203:146,32[D ]| just as happy without you, for people seldom know what 203:146,33[D ]| they would be at, young men especially, they are so 203:146,34[D ]| amazingly changeable, and inconstant. What I say is, 203:146,35[D ]| why should a brother's happiness be dearer to me than 203:146,36[D ]| a friend's? You know I carry my notions of friendship 203:146,37[D ]| pretty high. But, above all things, my dear Catherine, 203:146,38[D ]| do not be in a hurry. Take my word for it, that if you 203:147,01[D ]| are in too great a hurry, you will certainly live to repent 203:147,02[D ]| it. Tilney says, there is nothing people are so often 203:147,03[D ]| deceived in, as the state of their own affections, and 203:147,04[D ]| I believe he is very right. Ah! here he comes; never 203:147,05[D ]| mind, he will not see us, I am sure." 203:147,06[' ]| Catherine, looking up, perceived Captain*Tilney; and 203:147,07[' ]| Isabella, earnestly fixing her eye on him as she spoke, 203:147,08[' ]| soon caught his notice. He approached immediately, 203:147,09[' ]| and took the seat to which her movements invited him. 203:147,10[' ]| His first address made Catherine start. Though spoken 203:147,11[' ]| low she could distinguish, 203:147,11[G ]| "What! always to be watched, 203:147,12[G ]| in person or by proxy!" 203:147,13[D ]| "Psha, nonsense!" 203:147,13[' ]| was Isabella's answer in the same 203:147,14[' ]| half whisper. 203:147,14[D ]| "Why do you put such things into my 203:147,15[D ]| head? If I could believe it ~~ my spirit, you know, is 203:147,16[D ]| pretty independent." 203:147,17[G ]| "I wish your heart were independent. That would 203:147,18[G ]| be enough for me." 203:147,19[D ]| "My heart, indeed! What can you have to do with 203:147,20[D ]| hearts? You men have none of you any hearts." 203:147,21[G ]| "If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give 203:147,22[G ]| us torment enough." 203:147,23[D ]| "Do they? I am sorry for it; I am sorry they find 203:147,24[D ]| any*thing so disagreeable in me. I will look another way. 203:147,25[D ]| I hope this pleases you, 203:147,25[' ]| (turning her back on him,) 203:147,25[D ]| I hope 203:147,26[D ]| your eyes are not tormented now." 203:147,27[G ]| "Never more so; for the edge of a blooming cheek is 203:147,28[G ]| still in view ~~ at once too much and too little." 203:147,29[' ]| Catherine heard all this, and quite out of countenance 203:147,30[' ]| could listen no longer. Amazed that Isabella could 203:147,31[' ]| endure it, and jealous for her brother, she rose up, and 203:147,32[' ]| saying she should join Mrs%*Allen, proposed their walking. 203:147,33[' ]| But for this Isabella shewed no inclination. 203:147,33@d | She was so 203:147,34@d | amazingly tired, and it was so odious to parade about 203:147,35@d | the Pump-room; and if she moved from her seat she 203:147,36@d | should miss her sisters, she was expecting her sisters 203:147,37@d | every moment; so that her dearest Catherine must 203:147,38@d | excuse her, and must sit quietly down again. 203:147,38[' ]| But 203:148,01[' ]| Catherine could be stubborn too; and Mrs%*Allen just 203:148,02[' ]| then coming up to propose their returning home, she 203:148,03[' ]| joined her and walked out of the Pump-room, leaving 203:148,04[' ]| Isabella still sitting with Captain*Tilney. With much 203:148,05[' ]| uneasiness did she thus leave them. 203:148,05@a | It seemed to her 203:148,06@a | that Captain*Tilney was falling in love with Isabella, and 203:148,07@a | Isabella unconsciously encouraging him; unconsciously 203:148,08@a | it must be, for Isabella's attachment to James was as 203:148,09@a | certain and well acknowledged as her engagement. To 203:148,10@a | doubt her truth or good intentions was impossible; and 203:148,11@a | yet, during the whole of their conversation her manner 203:148,12@a | had been odd. She wished Isabella had talked more like 203:148,13@a | her usual self, and not so much about money; and had 203:148,14@a | not looked so well pleased at the sight of Captain*Tilney. 203:148,15@a | How strange that she should not perceive his admiration! 203:148,16@a | Catherine longed to give her a hint of it, to put her on her 203:148,17@a | guard, and prevent all the pain which her too lively 203:148,18@a | behaviour might otherwise create both for him and her 203:148,19@a | brother. 203:148,20[' ]| The compliment of John*Thorpe's affection did not 203:148,21[' ]| make amends for this thoughtlessness in his sister. She 203:148,22[' ]| was almost as far from believing as from wishing it to be 203:148,23[' ]| sincere; for she had not forgotten that he could mistake, 203:148,24[' ]| and his assertion of the offer and of her encouragement 203:148,25[' ]| convinced her that his mistakes could sometimes be very 203:148,26[' ]| egregious. In vanity therefore she gained but little, her 203:148,27[' ]| chief profit was in wonder. 203:148,27@a | That he should think it 203:148,28@a | worth his while to fancy himself in love with her, was 203:148,29@a | a matter of lively astonishment. Isabella talked of his 203:148,30@a | attentions; \she\ had never been sensible of any; but 203:148,31@a | Isabella had said many things which she hoped had been 203:148,32@a | spoken in haste, and would never be said again; 203:148,32[' ]| and 203:148,33[' ]| upon this she was glad to rest altogether for present ease 203:148,34[' ]| and comfort. 204:149,01[' ]| A few days passed away, and Catherine, though not 204:149,02[' ]| allowing herself to suspect her friend, could not help 204:149,03[' ]| watching her closely. The result of her observations 204:149,04[' ]| was not agreeable. Isabella seemed an altered creature. 204:149,05[' ]| When she saw her indeed surrounded only by their immediate 204:149,06[' ]| friends in Edgar's*Buildings or Pulteney-street, her 204:149,07[' ]| change of manners was so trifling that, had it gone no 204:149,08[' ]| farther, it might have passed unnoticed. A something of 204:149,09[' ]| languid indifference, or of that boasted absence of mind 204:149,10[' ]| which Catherine had never heard of before, would occasionally 204:149,11[' ]| come across her; but had nothing worse appeared, 204:149,12[' ]| \that\ might only have spread a new grace and inspired 204:149,13[' ]| a warmer interest. But when Catherine saw her in 204:149,14[' ]| public, admitting Captain*Tilney's attentions as readily 204:149,15[' ]| as they were offered, and allowing him almost an equal 204:149,16[' ]| share with James in her notice and smiles, the alteration 204:149,17[' ]| became too positive to be past over. 204:149,17@a | What could be 204:149,18@a | meant by such unsteady conduct, what her friend could 204:149,19@a | be at, was beyond her comprehension. Isabella could 204:149,20@a | not be aware of the pain she was inflicting; but it was 204:149,21@a | a degree of wilful thoughtlessness which Catherine could 204:149,22@a | not but resent. James was the sufferer. She saw him 204:149,23@a | grave and uneasy; and however careless of his present 204:149,24@a | comfort the woman might be who had given him her 204:149,25@a | heart, to \her\ it was always an object. For poor Captain*Tilney 204:149,26@a | too she was greatly concerned. 204:149,26[' ]| Though his looks 204:149,27[' ]| did not please her, his name was a passport to her good*will, 204:149,28[' ]| and she thought with sincere compassion of his 204:149,29[' ]| approaching disappointment; 204:149,29@a | for, in spite of what she 204:149,30@a | had believed herself to overhear in the Pump-room, his 204:149,31@a | behaviour was so incompatible with a knowledge of 204:149,32@a | Isabella's engagement, that she could not, upon reflection, 204:149,33@a | imagine him aware of it. He might be jealous of her 204:150,01@a | brother as a rival, but if more had seemed implied, the 204:150,02@a | fault must have been in her misapprehension. She 204:150,03@a | wished, by a gentle remonstrance, to remind Isabella of 204:150,04@a | her situation, and make her aware of this double unkindness; 204:150,05@a | but for remonstrance, either opportunity or comprehension 204:150,06@a | was always against her. If able to suggest 204:150,07@a | a hint, Isabella could never understand it. 204:150,07[' ]| In this 204:150,08[' ]| distress, the intended departure of the Tilney family 204:150,09[' ]| became her chief consolation; 204:150,09@a | their journey into Gloucestershire 204:150,10@a | was to take place within a few days, and 204:150,11@a | Captain*Tilney's removal would at least restore peace 204:150,12@a | to every heart but his own. 204:150,12[' ]| But Captain*Tilney had at 204:150,13[' ]| present no intention of removing; he was not to be of the 204:150,14[' ]| party to Northanger, he was to continue at Bath. When 204:150,15[' ]| Catherine knew this, her resolution was directly made. 204:150,16[' ]| She spoke to Henry*Tilney on the subject, regretting his 204:150,17[' ]| brother's evident partiality for Miss*Thorpe, and entreating 204:150,18[' ]| him to make known her prior engagement. 204:150,19[B ]| "My brother does know it," 204:150,19[' ]| was Henry's answer. 204:150,20[A ]| "Does he? ~~ then why does he stay here?" 204:150,21[' ]| He made no reply, and was beginning to talk of something 204:150,22[' ]| else; but she eagerly continued, 204:150,22[A ]| "Why do not you 204:150,23[A ]| persuade him to go away? The longer he stays, the 204:150,24[A ]| worse it will be for him at last. Pray advise him for his 204:150,25[A ]| own sake, and for every*body's sake, to leave Bath 204:150,26[A ]| directly. Absence will in time make him comfortable 204:150,27[A ]| again; but he can have no hope here, and it is only 204:150,28[A ]| staying to be miserable." 204:150,28[' ]| Henry smiled and said, 204:150,28[B ]| "I am 204:150,29[B ]| sure my brother would not wish to do that." 204:150,30[A ]| "Then you will persuade him to go away?" 204:150,31[B ]| "Persuasion is not at command; but pardon me, if 204:150,32[B ]| I cannot even endeavour to persuade him. I have myself 204:150,33[B ]| told him that Miss*Thorpe is engaged. He knows what 204:150,34[B ]| he is about, and must be his own master." 204:150,35[A ]| "No, he does not know what he is about," 204:150,35[' ]| cried 204:150,36[' ]| Catherine; 204:150,36[A ]| "he does not know the pain he is giving my 204:150,37[A ]| brother. Not that James has ever told me so, but I am 204:150,38[A ]| sure he is very uncomfortable." 204:151,01[B ]| "And are you sure it is my brother's doing?" 204:151,02[A ]| "Yes, very sure." 204:151,03[B ]| "Is it my brother's attentions to Miss*Thorpe, or Miss*Thorpe's 204:151,04[B ]| admission of them, that gives the pain?" 204:151,05[A ]| "Is not it the same thing?" 204:151,06[B ]| "I think Mr%*Morland would acknowledge a difference. 204:151,07[B ]| No man is offended by another man's admiration of the 204:151,08[B ]| woman he loves; it is the woman only who can make it 204:151,09[B ]| a torment." 204:151,10[' ]| Catherine blushed for her friend, and said, 204:151,10[A ]| "Isabella 204:151,11[A ]| is wrong. But I am sure she cannot mean to torment, 204:151,12[A ]| for she is very much attached to my brother. She has 204:151,13[A ]| been in love with him ever since they first met, and 204:151,14[A ]| while my father's consent was uncertain, she fretted 204:151,15[A ]| herself almost into a fever. You know she must be 204:151,16[A ]| attached to him." 204:151,17[B ]| "I understand: she is in love with James, and flirts 204:151,18[B ]| with Frederick." 204:151,19[A ]| "Oh! no, not flirts. A woman in love with one man 204:151,20[A ]| cannot flirt with another." 204:151,21[B ]| "It is probable that she will neither love so well, nor 204:151,22[B ]| flirt so well, as she might do either singly. The gentlemen 204:151,23[B ]| must each give up a little." 204:151,24[' ]| After a short pause, Catherine resumed with 204:151,24[A ]| "Then 204:151,25[A ]| you do not believe Isabella so very much attached to my 204:151,26[A ]| brother?" 204:151,27[B ]| "I can have no opinion on that subject." 204:151,28[A ]| "But what can your brother mean? If he knows her 204:151,29[A ]| engagement, what can he mean by his behaviour?" 204:151,30[B ]| "You are a very close questioner." 204:151,31[A ]| "Am I? ~~ I only ask what I want to be told." 204:151,32[B ]| "But do you only ask what I can be expected to tell?" 204:151,33[A ]| "Yes, I think so; for you must know your brother's 204:151,34[A ]| heart." 204:151,35[B ]| "My brother's heart, as you term it, on the present 204:151,36[B ]| occasion, I assure you I can only guess at." 204:151,37[A ]| "Well?" 204:151,38[B ]| "Well! ~~ Nay, if it is to be guess-work, let us all guess 204:152,01[B ]| for ourselves. To be guided by second-hand conjecture 204:152,02[B ]| is pitiful. The premises are before you. My brother is 204:152,03[B ]| a lively, and perhaps sometimes a thoughtless young man; 204:152,04[B ]| he has had about a week's acquaintance with your friend, 204:152,05[B ]| and he has known her engagement almost as long as he 204:152,06[B ]| has known her." 204:152,07[A ]| "Well," 204:152,07[' ]| said Catherine, after some moments' consideration, 204:152,08[A ]| "\you\ may be able to guess at your brother's 204:152,09[A ]| intentions from all this; but I am sure I cannot. But is 204:152,10[A ]| not your father uncomfortable about it? ~~ Does not he 204:152,11[A ]| want Captain*Tilney to go away? ~~ Sure, if your father 204:152,12[A ]| were to speak to him, he would go." 204:152,13[B ]| "My dear Miss*Morland," 204:152,13[' ]| said Henry, 204:152,13[B ]| "in this amiable 204:152,14[B ]| solicitude for your brother's comfort, may you not be 204:152,15[B ]| a little mistaken? Are you not carried a little too far? 204:152,16[B ]| Would he thank you, either on his own account or Miss*Thorpe's, 204:152,17[B ]| for supposing that her affection, or at least her 204:152,18[B ]| good-behaviour, is only to be secured by her seeing nothing 204:152,19[B ]| of Captain*Tilney? Is he safe only in solitude? ~~ or, 204:152,20[B ]| is her heart constant to him only when unsolicited by 204:152,21[B ]| any*one else? ~~ He cannot think this ~~ and you may be 204:152,22[B ]| sure that he would not have you think it. I will not say, 204:152,23[B ]| ""Do not be uneasy,"" because I know that you are so, at 204:152,24[B ]| this moment; but be as little uneasy as you can. You 204:152,25[B ]| have no doubt of the mutual attachment of your brother 204:152,26[B ]| and your friend; depend upon it therefore, that real 204:152,27[B ]| jealousy never can exist between them; depend upon it 204:152,28[B ]| that no disagreement between them can be of any duration. 204:152,29[B ]| Their hearts are open to each other, as neither 204:152,30[B ]| heart can be to you; they know exactly what is required 204:152,31[B ]| and what can be borne; and you may be certain, that 204:152,32[B ]| one will never tease the other beyond what is known to 204:152,33[B ]| be pleasant." 204:152,34[' ]| Perceiving her still to look doubtful and grave, he 204:152,35[' ]| added, 204:152,35[B ]| "Though Frederick does not leave Bath with us, 204:152,36[B ]| he will probably remain but a very short time, perhaps 204:152,37[B ]| only a few days behind us. His leave of absence will soon 204:152,38[B ]| expire, and he must return to his regiment. ~~ And what 204:153,01[B ]| will then be their acquaintance? ~~ The mess-room will 204:153,02[B ]| drink Isabella*Thorpe for a fortnight, and she will laugh 204:153,03[B ]| with your brother over poor Tilney's passion for a month." 204:153,04[' ]| Catherine would contend no longer against comfort. 204:153,05[' ]| She had resisted its approaches during the whole length of 204:153,06[' ]| a speech, but it now carried her captive. 204:153,06@a | Henry*Tilney 204:153,07@a | must know best. 204:153,07[' ]| She blamed herself for the extent of 204:153,08[' ]| her fears, and resolved never to think so seriously on the 204:153,09[' ]| subject again. 204:153,10[' ]| Her resolution was supported by Isabella's behaviour 204:153,11[' ]| in their parting interview. The Thorpes spent the last 204:153,12[' ]| evening of Catherine's stay in Pulteney-street, and 204:153,13[' ]| nothing passed between the lovers to excite her uneasiness, 204:153,14[' ]| or make her quit them in apprehension. James was in 204:153,15[' ]| excellent spirits, and Isabella most engagingly placid. 204:153,16[' ]| Her tenderness for her friend seemed rather the first 204:153,17[' ]| feeling of her heart; but that at such a moment was 204:153,18[' ]| allowable; and once she gave her lover a flat contradiction, 204:153,19[' ]| and once she drew back her hand; but Catherine 204:153,20[' ]| remembered Henry's instructions, and placed it all to 204:153,21[' ]| judicious affection. The embraces, tears, and promises 204:153,22[' ]| of the parting fair ones may be fancied. 205:154,01[' ]| Mr% and Mrs%*Allen were sorry to lose their young 205:154,02[' ]| friend, whose good-humour and cheerfulness had made 205:154,03[' ]| her a valuable companion, and in the promotion of whose 205:154,04[' ]| enjoyment their own had been gently increased. Her 205:154,05[' ]| happiness in going with Miss*Tilney, however, prevented 205:154,06[' ]| their wishing it otherwise; and, as they were to remain 205:154,07[' ]| only one more week in Bath themselves, her quitting 205:154,08[' ]| them now would not long be felt. Mr%*Allen attended 205:154,09[' ]| her to Milsom-street, where she was to breakfast, and saw 205:154,10[' ]| her seated with the kindest welcome among her new 205:154,11[' ]| friends; but so great was her agitation in finding herself 205:154,12[' ]| as one of the family, and so fearful was she of not doing 205:154,13[' ]| exactly what was right, and of not being able to preserve 205:154,14[' ]| their good opinion, that, in the embarrassment of the 205:154,15[' ]| first five minutes, she could almost have wished to return 205:154,16[' ]| with him to Pulteney-street. 205:154,17[' ]| Miss*Tilney's manners and Henry's smile soon did away 205:154,18[' ]| some of her unpleasant feelings; but still she was far 205:154,19[' ]| from being at ease; nor could the incessant attentions 205:154,20[' ]| of the General himself entirely reassure her. Nay, perverse 205:154,21[' ]| as it seemed, she doubted whether she might not 205:154,22[' ]| have felt less, had she been less attended to. His anxiety 205:154,23[' ]| for her comfort ~~ his continual solicitations that she would 205:154,24[' ]| eat, and his often-expressed fears of her seeing nothing 205:154,25[' ]| to her taste ~~ though never in her life before had she 205:154,26[' ]| beheld half such variety on a breakfast-table ~~ made it 205:154,27[' ]| impossible for her to forget for a moment that she was 205:154,28[' ]| a visitor. She felt utterly unworthy of such respect, and 205:154,29[' ]| knew not how to reply to it. Her tranquillity was not 205:154,30[' ]| improved by the General's impatience for the appearance 205:154,31[' ]| of his eldest son, nor by the displeasure he expressed at 205:154,32[' ]| his laziness when Captain*Tilney at last came down. 205:154,33[' ]| She was quite pained by the severity of his father's 205:155,01[' ]| reproof, which seemed disproportionate to the offence; 205:155,02[' ]| and much was her concern increased, when she found 205:155,03[' ]| herself the principal cause of the lecture; and that his 205:155,04[' ]| tardiness was chiefly resented from being disrespectful 205:155,05[' ]| to her. This was placing her in a very uncomfortable 205:155,06[' ]| situation, and she felt great compassion for Captain*Tilney, 205:155,07[' ]| without being able to hope for his good-will. 205:155,08[' ]| He listened to his father in silence, and attempted 205:155,09[' ]| not any defence, which confirmed her in fearing, that 205:155,09@a | the 205:155,10@a | inquietude of his mind, on Isabella's account, might, by 205:155,11@a | keeping him long sleepless, have been the real cause of 205:155,12@a | his rising late. ~~ 205:155,12[' ]| It was the first time of her being decidedly 205:155,13[' ]| in his company, and she had hoped to be now able to 205:155,14[' ]| form her opinion of him; but she scarcely heard his voice 205:155,15[' ]| while his father remained in the room; and even afterwards, 205:155,16[' ]| so much were his spirits affected, she could 205:155,17[' ]| distinguish nothing but these words, in a whisper to 205:155,18[' ]| Eleanor, 205:155,18[G ]| "How glad I shall be when you are all off." 205:155,19[' ]| The bustle of going was not pleasant. ~~ The clock struck 205:155,20[' ]| ten while the trunks were carrying down, and the General 205:155,21[' ]| had fixed to be out of Milsom-street by that hour. His 205:155,22[' ]| great*coat, instead of being brought for him to put on 205:155,23[' ]| directly, was spread out in the curricle in which he was 205:155,24[' ]| to accompany his son. The middle seat of the chaise 205:155,25[' ]| was not drawn out, though there were three people to go 205:155,26[' ]| in it, and his daughter's maid had so crowded it with 205:155,27[' ]| parcels, that Miss*Morland would not have room to sit; 205:155,28[' ]| and, so much was he influenced by this apprehension 205:155,29[' ]| when he handed her in, that she had some difficulty in 205:155,30[' ]| saving her own new writing-desk from being thrown out 205:155,31[' ]| into the street. ~~ At last, however, the door was closed 205:155,32[' ]| upon the three females, and they set off at the sober pace 205:155,33[' ]| in which the handsome, highly-fed four horses of a gentleman 205:155,34[' ]| usually perform a journey of thirty miles: such was 205:155,35[' ]| the distance of Northanger from Bath, to be now divided 205:155,36[' ]| into two equal stages. Catherine's spirits revived as they 205:155,37[' ]| drove from the door; for with Miss*Tilney she felt no 205:155,38[' ]| restraint; and, with the interest of a road entirely new 205:156,01[' ]| to her, of an abbey before, and a curricle behind, she 205:156,02[' ]| caught the last view of Bath without any regret, and 205:156,03[' ]| met with every mile-stone before she expected it. The 205:156,04[' ]| tediousness of a two hours' bait at Petty-France, in which 205:156,05[' ]| there was nothing to be done but to eat without being 205:156,06[' ]| hungry, and loiter about without any*thing to see, next 205:156,07[' ]| followed ~~ and her admiration of the style in which they 205:156,08[' ]| travelled, of the fashionable chaise-and-four ~~ postilions 205:156,09[' ]| handsomely liveried, rising so regularly in their stirrups, 205:156,10[' ]| and numerous out-riders properly mounted, sunk a little 205:156,11[' ]| under this consequent inconvenience. Had their party 205:156,12[' ]| been perfectly agreeable, the delay would have been 205:156,13[' ]| nothing; but General*Tilney, though so charming a man, 205:156,14[' ]| seemed always a check upon his children's spirits, and 205:156,15[' ]| scarcely any*thing was said but by himself; the observation 205:156,16[' ]| of which, with his discontent at whatever the inn 205:156,17[' ]| afforded, and his angry impatience at the waiters, made 205:156,18[' ]| Catherine grow every moment more in awe of him, and 205:156,19[' ]| appeared to lengthen the two hours into four. ~~ At last, 205:156,20[' ]| however, the order of release was given; and much was 205:156,21[' ]| Catherine then surprized by the General's proposal of her 205:156,22[' ]| taking his place in his son's curricle for the rest of the 205:156,23[' ]| journey: ~~ 205:156,23[F ]| "the day was fine, and he was anxious for her 205:156,24[F ]| seeing as much of the country as possible." 205:156,25[' ]| The remembrance of Mr%*Allen's opinion, respecting 205:156,26[' ]| young men's open carriages, made her blush at the mention 205:156,27[' ]| of such a plan, and her first thought was to decline 205:156,28[' ]| it; but her second was of greater deference for General*Tilney's 205:156,29[' ]| judgment; 205:156,29@a | he could not propose any*thing 205:156,30@a | improper for her; 205:156,30[' ]| and, in the course of a few minutes, 205:156,31[' ]| she found herself with Henry in the curricle, as happy 205:156,32[' ]| a being as ever existed. A very short trial convinced 205:156,33[' ]| her that 205:156,33@a | a curricle was the prettiest equipage in the world; 205:156,34@a | the chaise-and-four wheeled off with some grandeur, to be 205:156,35@a | sure, but it was a heavy and troublesome business, and 205:156,36@a | she could not easily forget its having stopped two hours 205:156,37@a | at Petty-France. Half the time would have been enough 205:156,38@a | for the curricle, and so nimbly were the light horses 205:157,01@a | disposed to move, that, had not the General chosen to 205:157,02@a | have his own carriage lead the way, they could have 205:157,03@a | passed it with ease in half a minute. But the merit of 205:157,04@a | the curricle did not all belong to the horses; ~~ Henry 205:157,05@a | drove so well, ~~ so quietly ~~ without making any disturbance, 205:157,06@a | without parading to her, or swearing at them; so 205:157,07@a | different from the only gentleman-coachman whom it 205:157,08@a | was in her power to compare him with! ~~ And then his 205:157,09@a | hat sat so well, and the innumerable capes of his great*coat 205:157,10@a | looked so becomingly important! ~~ To be driven by 205:157,11@a | him, next to being dancing with him, was certainly the 205:157,12@a | greatest happiness in the world. 205:157,12[' ]| In addition to every 205:157,13[' ]| other delight, she had now that of listening to her own 205:157,14[' ]| praise; of being thanked at least, on his sister's account, 205:157,15[' ]| for her kindness in thus becoming her visitor; of hearing 205:157,16[' ]| it ranked as real friendship, and described as creating 205:157,17[' ]| real gratitude. 205:157,17@b | His sister, 205:157,17[' ]| he said, 205:157,17@b | was uncomfortably 205:157,18@b | circumstanced ~~ she had no female companion ~~ and, in 205:157,19@b | the frequent absence of her father, was sometimes without 205:157,20@b | any companion at all. 205:157,21[A ]| "But how can that be?" 205:157,21[' ]| said Catherine, 205:157,21[A ]| "are not 205:157,22[A ]| you with her?" 205:157,23[B ]| "Northanger is not more than half my home; I have 205:157,24[B ]| an establishment at my own house in Woodston, which is 205:157,25[B ]| nearly twenty miles from my father's, and some of my 205:157,26[B ]| time is necessarily spent there." 205:157,27[A ]| "How sorry you must be for that!" 205:157,28[B ]| "I am always sorry to leave Eleanor." 205:157,29[A ]| "Yes; but besides your affection for her, you must 205:157,30[A ]| be so fond of the abbey! ~~ After being used to such 205:157,31[A ]| a home as the abbey, an ordinary parsonage-house must 205:157,32[A ]| be very disagreeable." 205:157,33[' ]| He smiled, and said, 205:157,33[B ]| "You have formed a very favourable 205:157,34[B ]| idea of the abbey." 205:157,35[A ]| "To be sure I have. Is not it a fine old place, just like 205:157,36[A ]| what one reads about?" 205:157,37[B ]| "And are you prepared to encounter all the horrors 205:157,38[B ]| that a building such as ""what one reads about"" may 205:158,01[B ]| produce? ~~ Have you a stout heart? ~~ Nerves fit for 205:158,02[B ]| sliding pannels and tapestry?" 205:158,03[A ]| "Oh! yes ~~ I do not think I should be easily frightened, 205:158,04[A ]| because there would be so many people in the house ~~ 205:158,05[A ]| and besides, it has never been uninhabited and left 205:158,06[A ]| deserted for years, and then the family come back to 205:158,07[A ]| it unawares, without giving any notice, as generally 205:158,08[A ]| happens." 205:158,09[B ]| "No, certainly. ~~ We shall not have to explore our way 205:158,10[B ]| into a hall dimly lighted by the expiring embers of a wood 205:158,11[B ]| fire ~~ nor be obliged to spread our beds on the floor of 205:158,12[B ]| a room without windows, doors, or furniture. But you 205:158,13[B ]| must be aware that when a young lady is (by whatever 205:158,14[B ]| means) introduced into a dwelling of this kind, she is 205:158,15[B ]| always lodged apart from the rest of the family. While 205:158,16[B ]| they snugly repair to their own end of the house, she is 205:158,17[B ]| formally conducted by Dorothy the ancient housekeeper 205:158,18[B ]| up a different staircase, and along many gloomy passages, 205:158,19[B ]| into an apartment never used since some cousin or kin 205:158,20[B ]| died in it about twenty years before. Can you stand such 205:158,21[B ]| a ceremony as this? Will not your mind misgive you, 205:158,22[B ]| when you find yourself in this gloomy chamber ~~ too lofty 205:158,23[B ]| and extensive for you, with only the feeble rays of a single 205:158,24[B ]| lamp to take in its size ~~ its walls hung with tapestry 205:158,25[B ]| exhibiting figures as large as life, and the bed, of dark 205:158,26[B ]| green stuff or purple velvet, presenting even a funereal 205:158,27[B ]| appearance. Will not your heart sink within you?" 205:158,28[A ]| "Oh! but this will not happen to me, I am sure." 205:158,29[B ]| "How fearfully will you examine the furniture of your 205:158,30[B ]| apartment! ~~ And what will you discern? ~~ Not tables, 205:158,31[B ]| toilettes, wardrobes, or drawers, but on one side perhaps 205:158,32[B ]| the remains of a broken lute, on the other a ponderous 205:158,33[B ]| chest which no efforts can open, and over the fire-place 205:158,34[B ]| the portrait of some handsome warrior, whose features 205:158,35[B ]| will so incomprehensibly strike you, that you will not be 205:158,36[B ]| able to withdraw your eyes from it. Dorothy meanwhile, 205:158,37[B ]| no less struck by your appearance, gazes on you in great 205:158,38[B ]| agitation, and drops a few unintelligible hints. To raise 205:159,01[B ]| your spirits, moreover, she gives you reason to suppose 205:159,02[B ]| that the part of the abbey you inhabit is undoubtedly 205:159,03[B ]| haunted, and informs you that you will not have a single 205:159,04[B ]| domestic within call. With this parting cordial she 205:159,05[B ]| curtseys off ~~ you listen to the sound of her receding 205:159,06[B ]| footsteps as long as the last echo can reach you ~~ and 205:159,07[B ]| when, with fainting spirits, you attempt to fasten your door, 205:159,08[B ]| you discover, with increased alarm, that it has no lock." 205:159,09[A ]| "Oh! Mr%*Tilney, how frightful! ~~ This is just like a 205:159,10[A ]| book! ~~ But it cannot really happen to me. I am sure your 205:159,11[A ]| housekeeper is not really Dorothy. ~~ Well, what then?" 205:159,12[B ]| "Nothing further to alarm perhaps may occur the first 205:159,13[B ]| night. After surmounting your \unconquerable\ horror of 205:159,14[B ]| the bed, you will retire to rest, and get a few hours' 205:159,15[B ]| unquiet slumber. But on the second, or at farthest the 205:159,16[B ]| \third\ night after your arrival, you will probably have 205:159,17[B ]| a violent storm. Peals of thunder so loud as to seem to 205:159,18[B ]| shake the edifice to its foundation will roll round the 205:159,19[B ]| neighbouring mountains ~~ and during the frightful gusts 205:159,20[B ]| of wind which accompany it, you will probably think you 205:159,21[B ]| discern (for your lamp is not extinguished) one part of 205:159,22[B ]| the hanging more violently agitated than the rest. Unable 205:159,23[B ]| of course to repress your curiosity in so favourable 205:159,24[B ]| a moment for indulging it, you will instantly arise, and 205:159,25[B ]| throwing your dressing-gown around you, proceed to 205:159,26[B ]| examine this mystery. After a very short search, you 205:159,27[B ]| will discover a division in the tapestry so artfully constructed 205:159,28[B ]| as to defy the minutest inspection, and on 205:159,29[B ]| opening it, a door will immediately appear ~~ which door 205:159,30[B ]| being only secured by massy bars and a padlock, you will, 205:159,31[B ]| after a few efforts, succeed in opening, ~~ and, with your 205:159,32[B ]| lamp in your hand, will pass through it into a small 205:159,33[B ]| vaulted room." 205:159,34[A ]| "No, indeed; I should be too much frightened to do 205:159,35[A ]| any such thing." 205:159,36[B ]| "What! not when Dorothy has given you to understand 205:159,37[B ]| that there is a secret subterraneous communication 205:159,38[B ]| between your apartment and the chapel of St%*Anthony, 205:160,01[B ]| scarcely two miles off ~~ Could you shrink from so simple 205:160,02[B ]| an adventure? No, no, you will proceed into this small 205:160,03[B ]| vaulted room, and through this into several others, 205:160,04[B ]| without perceiving any*thing very remarkable in either. 205:160,05[B ]| In one perhaps there may be a dagger, in another a few 205:160,06[B ]| drops of blood, and in a third the remains of some instrument 205:160,07[B ]| of torture; but there being nothing in all this out 205:160,08[B ]| of the common way, and your lamp being nearly exhausted, 205:160,09[B ]| you will return towards your own apartment. In repassing 205:160,10[B ]| through the small vaulted room, however, your eyes 205:160,11[B ]| will be attracted towards a large, old-fashioned cabinet of 205:160,12[B ]| ebony and gold, which, though narrowly examining the 205:160,13[B ]| furniture before, you had passed unnoticed. Impelled by 205:160,14[B ]| an irresistible presentiment, you will eagerly advance to 205:160,15[B ]| it, unlock its folding*doors, and search into every drawer; 205:160,16[B ]| ~~ but for some time without discovering any*thing of 205:160,17[B ]| importance ~~ perhaps nothing but a considerable hoard 205:160,18[B ]| of diamonds. At last, however, by touching a secret 205:160,19[B ]| spring, an inner compartment will open ~~ a roll of paper 205:160,20[B ]| appears: ~~ you seize it ~~ it contains many sheets of manuscript 205:160,21[B ]| ~~ you hasten with the precious treasure into your 205:160,22[B ]| own chamber, but scarcely have you been able to decipher 205:160,23[B ]| ""Oh! thou ~~ whomsoever thou mayst be, into whose hands 205:160,24[B ]| these memoirs of the wretched Matilda may fall"" ~~ when 205:160,25[B ]| your lamp suddenly expires in the socket, and leaves you 205:160,26[B ]| in total darkness." 205:160,27[A ]| "Oh! no, no ~~ do not say so. Well, go on." 205:160,28[' ]| But Henry was too much amused by the interest he 205:160,29[' ]| had raised, to be able to carry it farther; he could no 205:160,30[' ]| longer command solemnity either of subject or voice, and 205:160,31[' ]| was obliged to entreat her to use her own fancy in the 205:160,32[' ]| perusal of Matilda's woes. Catherine, recollecting herself, 205:160,33[' ]| grew ashamed of her eagerness, and began earnestly to 205:160,34[' ]| assure him that her attention had been fixed without the 205:160,35[' ]| smallest apprehension of really meeting with what he 205:160,36[' ]| related. 205:160,36[A ]| "Miss*Tilney, she was sure, would never put 205:160,37[A ]| her into such a chamber as he had described! ~~ She was 205:160,38[A ]| not at all afraid." 205:161,01[' ]| As they drew near the end of their journey, her impatience 205:161,02[' ]| for a sight of the abbey ~~ for some time suspended 205:161,03[' ]| by his conversation on subjects very different ~~ returned 205:161,04[' ]| in full force, and every bend in the road was expected 205:161,05[' ]| with solemn awe to afford a glimpse of its massy walls of 205:161,06[' ]| grey stone, rising amidst a grove of ancient oaks, with 205:161,07[' ]| the last beams of the sun playing in beautiful splendour 205:161,08[' ]| on its high Gothic windows. But so low did the building 205:161,09[' ]| stand, that she found herself passing through the great 205:161,10[' ]| gates of the lodge into the very grounds of Northanger, 205:161,11[' ]| without having discerned even an antique chimney. 205:161,12[' ]| She knew not that she had any right to be surprized, 205:161,13[' ]| but there was a something in this mode of approach 205:161,14[' ]| which she certainly had not expected. To pass between 205:161,15[' ]| lodges of a modern appearance, to find herself with such 205:161,16[' ]| ease in the very precincts of the abbey, and driven so 205:161,17[' ]| rapidly along a smooth, level road of fine gravel, without 205:161,18[' ]| obstacle, alarm or solemnity of any kind, struck her as 205:161,19[' ]| odd and inconsistent. She was not long at leisure however 205:161,20[' ]| for such considerations. A sudden scud of rain 205:161,21[' ]| driving full in her face, made it impossible for her to 205:161,22[' ]| observe any*thing further, and fixed all her thoughts on 205:161,23[' ]| the welfare of her new straw bonnet: ~~ and she was 205:161,24[' ]| actually under the Abbey walls, was springing, with 205:161,25[' ]| Henry's assistance, from the carriage, was beneath the 205:161,26[' ]| shelter of the old porch, and had even passed on to the 205:161,27[' ]| hall, where her friend and the General were waiting to 205:161,28[' ]| welcome her, without feeling one aweful foreboding of 205:161,29[' ]| future misery to herself, or one moment's suspicion of 205:161,30[' ]| any past scenes of horror being acted within the solemn 205:161,31[' ]| edifice. The breeze had not seemed to waft the sighs of 205:161,32[' ]| the murdered to her; it had wafted nothing worse than 205:161,33[' ]| a thick mizzling rain; and having given a good shake to 205:161,34[' ]| her habit, she was ready to be shewn into the common 205:161,35[' ]| drawing-room, and capable of considering where she was. 205:161,36@a | An abbey! ~~ yes, it was delightful to be really in an 205:161,37@a | abbey! ~~ 205:161,37[' ]| but she doubted, as she looked round the room, 205:161,38[' ]| whether any*thing within her observation, would have 205:162,01[' ]| given her the consciousness. The furniture was in all the 205:162,02[' ]| profusion and elegance of modern taste. The fire-place, 205:162,03[' ]| where she had expected the ample width and ponderous 205:162,04[' ]| carving of former times, was contracted to a Rumford, 205:162,05[' ]| with slabs of plain though handsome marble, and ornaments 205:162,06[' ]| over it of the prettiest English china. The windows, 205:162,07[' ]| to which she looked with peculiar dependence, from 205:162,08[' ]| having heard the General talk of his preserving them in 205:162,09[' ]| their Gothic form with reverential care, were yet less what 205:162,10[' ]| her fancy had portrayed. 205:162,10@a | To be sure, the pointed arch 205:162,11@a | was preserved ~~ the form of them was Gothic ~~ they might 205:162,12@a | be even casements ~~ but every pane was so large, so clear, so 205:162,13@a | light! 205:162,13[' ]| To an imagination which had hoped for the smallest 205:162,14[' ]| divisions, and the heaviest stone-work, for painted glass, 205:162,15[' ]| dirt and cobwebs, the difference was very distressing. 205:162,16[' ]| The General, perceiving how her eye was employed, 205:162,17[' ]| began to talk of the smallness of the room and simplicity 205:162,18[' ]| of the furniture, where every*thing being for daily use, 205:162,19[' ]| pretended only to comfort, &c%, flattering himself however 205:162,20[' ]| that there were some apartments in the Abbey not 205:162,21[' ]| unworthy her notice ~~ and was proceeding to mention the 205:162,22[' ]| costly gilding of one in particular, when taking out his 205:162,23[' ]| watch, he stopped short to pronounce it with surprize 205:162,24[' ]| within twenty minutes of five! This seemed the word of 205:162,25[' ]| separation, and Catherine found herself hurried away by 205:162,26[' ]| Miss*Tilney in such a manner as convinced her that the 205:162,27[' ]| strictest punctuality to the family hours would be expected 205:162,28[' ]| at Northanger. 205:162,29[' ]| Returning through the large and lofty hall, they 205:162,30[' ]| ascended a broad staircase of shining oak, which, after 205:162,31[' ]| many flights and many landing-places, brought them 205:162,32[' ]| upon a long wide gallery. On one side it had a range of 205:162,33[' ]| doors, and it was lighted on the other by windows which 205:162,34[' ]| Catherine had only time to discover looked into a quadrangle, 205:162,35[' ]| before Miss*Tilney led the way into a chamber, 205:162,36[' ]| and scarcely staying to hope she would find it comfortable, 205:162,37[' ]| left her with an anxious entreaty that she would make 205:162,38[' ]| as little alteration as possible in her dress. 206:163,01[' ]| A moment's glance was enough to satisfy Catherine 206:163,02[' ]| that her apartment was very unlike the one which Henry 206:163,03[' ]| had endeavoured to alarm her by the description of. ~~ It 206:163,04[' ]| was by no means unreasonably large, and contained 206:163,05[' ]| neither tapestry nor velvet. ~~ The walls were papered, 206:163,06[' ]| the floor was carpeted; the windows were neither less 206:163,07[' ]| perfect, nor more dim than those of the drawing-room 206:163,08[' ]| below; the furniture, though not of the latest fashion, 206:163,09[' ]| was handsome and comfortable, and the air of the room 206:163,10[' ]| altogether far from uncheerful. Her heart instantaneously 206:163,11[' ]| at ease on this point, she resolved to lose no time 206:163,12[' ]| in particular examination of any*thing, as she greatly 206:163,13[' ]| dreaded disobliging the General by any delay. Her habit 206:163,14[' ]| therefore was thrown off with all possible haste, and she 206:163,15[' ]| was preparing to unpin the linen package, which the 206:163,16[' ]| chaise-seat had conveyed for her immediate accommodation, 206:163,17[' ]| when her eye suddenly fell on a large high chest, 206:163,18[' ]| standing back in a deep recess on one side of the fire-place. 206:163,19[' ]| The sight of it made her start; and, forgetting 206:163,20[' ]| every*thing else, she stood gazing on it in motionless 206:163,21[' ]| wonder, while these thoughts crossed her: ~~ 206:163,21[A ]| "This is strange indeed! I did not expect such a sight 206:163,22[A ]| as this! ~~ An immense heavy chest! ~~ What can it hold? ~~ 206:163,23[A ]| Why should it be placed here? ~~ Pushed back too, as if 206:163,24[A ]| meant to be out of sight! ~~ I will look into it ~~ cost me 206:163,25[A ]| what it may, I will look into it ~~ and directly too ~~ by 206:163,26[A ]| day-light. ~~ If I stay till evening my candle may go out." 206:163,27[' ]| She advanced and examined it closely: it was of cedar, 206:163,28[' ]| curiously inlaid with some darker wood, and raised, about 206:163,29[' ]| a foot from the ground, on a carved stand of the same. 206:163,30[' ]| The lock was silver, though tarnished from age; at each 206:163,31[' ]| end were the imperfect remains of handles also of silver, 206:163,32[' ]| broken perhaps prematurely by some strange violence; 206:164,01[' ]| and, on the centre of the lid, was a mysterious cypher, 206:164,02[' ]| in the same metal. Catherine bent over it intently, but 206:164,03[' ]| without being able to distinguish any*thing with certainty. 206:164,04[' ]| She could not, in whatever direction she took it, believe 206:164,05[' ]| the last letter to be a \T\; and yet that it should be any*thing 206:164,06[' ]| else in that house was a circumstance to raise no 206:164,07[' ]| common degree of astonishment. 206:164,07@a | If not originally their's, 206:164,08@a | by what strange events could it have fallen into the 206:164,09@a | Tilney family? 206:164,10[' ]| Her fearful curiosity was every moment growing 206:164,11[' ]| greater; and seizing, with trembling hands, the hasp of 206:164,12[' ]| the lock, she resolved at all hazards to satisfy herself at 206:164,13[' ]| least as to its contents. With difficulty, for something 206:164,14[' ]| seemed to resist her efforts, she raised the lid a few inches; 206:164,15[' ]| but at that moment a sudden knocking at the door of the 206:164,16[' ]| room made her, starting, quit her hold, and the lid closed 206:164,17[' ]| with alarming violence. This ill-timed intruder was 206:164,18[' ]| Miss*Tilney's maid, sent by her mistress to be of use to 206:164,19[' ]| Miss*Morland; and though Catherine immediately dismissed 206:164,20[' ]| her, it recalled her to the sense of what she ought 206:164,21[' ]| to be doing, and forced her, in spite of her anxious desire 206:164,22[' ]| to penetrate this mystery, to proceed in her dressing 206:164,23[' ]| without further delay. Her progress was not quick, for 206:164,24[' ]| her thoughts and her eyes were still bent on the object 206:164,25[' ]| so well calculated to interest and alarm; and though 206:164,26[' ]| she dared not waste a moment upon a second attempt, 206:164,27[' ]| she could not remain many paces from the chest. At 206:164,28[' ]| length, however, having slipped one arm into her gown, 206:164,29[' ]| her toilette seemed so nearly finished, that the impatience 206:164,30[' ]| of her curiosity might safely be indulged. One moment 206:164,31[' ]| surely might be spared; and, so desperate should be the 206:164,32[' ]| exertion of her strength, that, unless secured by supernatural 206:164,33[' ]| means, the lid in one moment should be thrown 206:164,34[' ]| back. With this spirit she sprang forward, and her 206:164,35[' ]| confidence did not deceive her. Her resolute effort threw 206:164,36[' ]| back the lid, and gave to her astonished eyes the view 206:164,37[' ]| of a white cotton counterpane, properly folded, reposing 206:164,38[' ]| at one end of the chest in undisputed possession! 206:165,01[' ]| She was gazing on it with the first blush of surprize, 206:165,02[' ]| when Miss*Tilney, anxious for her friend's being ready, 206:165,03[' ]| entered the room, and to the rising shame of having 206:165,04[' ]| harboured for some minutes an absurd expectation, was 206:165,05[' ]| then added the shame of being caught in so idle a search. 206:165,06[C ]| "That is a curious old chest, is not it?" 206:165,06[' ]| said Miss*Tilney, 206:165,07[' ]| as Catherine hastily closed it and turned away to 206:165,08[' ]| the glass. 206:165,08[C ]| "It is impossible to say how many generations 206:165,09[C ]| it has been here. How it came to be first put in this room 206:165,10[C ]| I know not, but I have not had it moved, because I thought 206:165,11[C ]| it might sometimes be of use in holding hats and bonnets. 206:165,12[C ]| The worst of it is that its weight makes it difficult to 206:165,13[C ]| open. In that corner, however, it is at least out of the 206:165,14[C ]| way." 206:165,15[' ]| Catherine had no leisure for speech, being at once 206:165,16[' ]| blushing, tying her gown, and forming wise resolutions 206:165,17[' ]| with the most violent dispatch. Miss*Tilney gently 206:165,18[' ]| hinted her fear of being late; and in half a minute they 206:165,19[' ]| ran down*stairs together, in an alarm not wholly unfounded, 206:165,20[' ]| for General*Tilney was pacing the drawing-room, 206:165,21[' ]| his watch in his hand, and having, on the very instant of 206:165,22[' ]| their entering, pulled the bell with violence, ordered 206:165,23[F ]| "Dinner to be on table \directly!\" 206:165,24[' ]| Catherine trembled at the emphasis with which he 206:165,25[' ]| spoke, and sat pale and breathless, in a most humble 206:165,26[' ]| mood, concerned for his children, and detesting old chests; 206:165,27[' ]| and the General recovering his politeness as he looked at 206:165,28[' ]| her, spent the rest of his time in scolding his daughter, 206:165,29[' ]| for so foolishly hurrying her fair friend, who was absolutely 206:165,30[' ]| out of breath from haste, when there was not the 206:165,31[' ]| least occasion for hurry in the world: but Catherine 206:165,32[' ]| could not at all get over the double distress of having 206:165,33[' ]| involved her friend in a lecture and been a great simpleton 206:165,34[' ]| herself, till they were happily seated at the dinner-table, 206:165,35[' ]| when the General's complacent smiles, and a good 206:165,36[' ]| appetite of her own, restored her to peace. The dining-parlour 206:165,37[' ]| was a noble room, suitable in its dimensions to 206:165,38[' ]| a much larger drawing-room than the one in common use, 206:166,01[' ]| and fitted up in a style of luxury and expense which was 206:166,02[' ]| almost lost on the unpractised eye of Catherine, who saw 206:166,03[' ]| little more than its spaciousness and the number of their 206:166,04[' ]| attendants. Of the former, she spoke aloud her admiration; 206:166,05[' ]| and the General, with a very gracious countenance, 206:166,06[' ]| acknowledged that 206:166,06@f | it was by no means an ill-sized room; 206:166,07[' ]| and further confessed, that, 206:166,07@f | though as careless on such 206:166,08@f | subjects as most people, he did look upon a tolerably 206:166,09@f | large eating-room as one of the necessaries of life; 206:166,09[' ]| he 206:166,10[' ]| supposed, however, 206:166,10[F ]| "that she must have been used to 206:166,11[F ]| much better sized apartments at Mr%*Allen's?" 206:166,12[A ]| "No, indeed," 206:166,12[' ]| was Catherine's honest assurance; 206:166,12[A ]| "Mr%*Allen's 206:166,13[A ]| dining-parlour was not more than half as large:" 206:166,14@a | and she had never seen so large a room as this in her life. 206:166,15[' ]| The General's good-humour increased. ~~ 206:166,15@f | Why, as he \had\ 206:166,16@f | such rooms, he thought it would be simple not to make 206:166,17@f | use of them; but, upon his honour, he believed there 206:166,18@f | might be more comfort in rooms of only half their size. 206:166,19@f | Mr%*Allen's house, he was sure, must be exactly of the 206:166,20@f | true size for rational happiness. 206:166,21[' ]| The evening passed without any further disturbance, 206:166,22[' ]| and, in the occasional absence of General*Tilney, with 206:166,23[' ]| much positive cheerfulness. It was only in his presence 206:166,24[' ]| that Catherine felt the smallest fatigue from her journey; 206:166,25[' ]| and even then, even in moments of languor or restraint, 206:166,26[' ]| a sense of general happiness preponderated, and she could 206:166,27[' ]| think of her friends in Bath without one wish of being 206:166,28[' ]| with them. 206:166,29[' ]| The night was stormy; the wind had been rising at 206:166,30[' ]| intervals the whole afternoon; and by the time the party 206:166,31[' ]| broke up, it blew and rained violently. Catherine, as she 206:166,32[' ]| crossed the hall, listened to the tempest with sensations 206:166,33[' ]| of awe; and, when she heard it rage round a corner of 206:166,34[' ]| the ancient building and close with sudden fury a distant 206:166,35[' ]| door, felt for the first time that she was really in an 206:166,36[' ]| Abbey. ~~ 206:166,36@a | Yes, these were characteristic sounds; ~~ they 206:166,37@a | brought to her recollection a countless variety of dreadful 206:166,38@a | situations and horrid scenes, which such buildings had 206:167,01@a | witnessed, and such storms ushered in; and most heartily 206:167,02@a | did she rejoice in the happier circumstances attending her 206:167,03@a | entrance within walls so solemn! ~~ \She\ had nothing to 206:167,04@a | dread from midnight assassins or drunken gallants. 206:167,05@a | Henry had certainly been only in jest in what he had 206:167,06@a | told her that morning. In a house so furnished, and so 206:167,07@a | guarded, she could have nothing to explore or to suffer; 206:167,08@a | and might go to her bedroom as securely as if it had been 206:167,09@a | her own chamber at Fullerton. 206:167,09[' ]| Thus wisely fortifying 206:167,10[' ]| her mind, as she proceeded up*stairs, she was enabled, 206:167,11[' ]| especially on perceiving that Miss*Tilney slept only two 206:167,12[' ]| doors from her, to enter her room with a tolerably stout 206:167,13[' ]| heart; and her spirits were immediately assisted by the 206:167,14[' ]| cheerful blaze of a wood fire. 206:167,14[A ]| "How much better is this," 206:167,15[' ]| said she, as she walked to the fender ~~ 206:167,15[A ]| "how much better 206:167,16[A ]| to find a fire ready lit, than to have to wait shivering in 206:167,17[A ]| the cold till all the family are in bed, as so many poor 206:167,18[A ]| girls have been obliged to do, and then to have a faithful 206:167,19[A ]| old servant frightening one by coming in with a faggot! 206:167,20[A ]| How glad I am that Northanger is what it is! If it had 206:167,21[A ]| been like some other places, I do not know that, in such 206:167,22[A ]| a night as this, I could have answered for my courage: ~~ 206:167,23[A ]| but now, to be sure, there is nothing to alarm one." 206:167,24[' ]| She looked round the room. The window curtains 206:167,25[' ]| seemed in motion. 206:167,25@a | It could be nothing but the violence 206:167,26@a | of the wind penetrating through the divisions of the 206:167,27@a | shutters; 206:167,27[' ]| and she stept boldly forward, carelessly 206:167,28[' ]| humming a tune, to assure herself of its being so, peeped 206:167,29[' ]| courageously behind each curtain, saw nothing on either 206:167,30[' ]| low window seat to scare her, and on placing a hand 206:167,31[' ]| against the shutter, felt the strongest conviction of the 206:167,32[' ]| wind's force. A glance at the old chest, as she turned 206:167,33[' ]| away from this examination, was not without its use; 206:167,34[' ]| she scorned the causeless fears of an idle fancy, and began 206:167,35[' ]| with a most happy indifference to prepare herself for bed. 206:167,36[A ]| "She should take her time; she should not hurry herself; 206:167,37[A ]| she did not care if she were the last person up in the 206:167,38[A ]| house. But she would not make up her fire; \that\ would 206:168,01[A ]| seem cowardly, as if she wished for the protection of light 206:168,02[A ]| after she were in bed." 206:168,02[' ]| The fire therefore died away, and 206:168,03[' ]| Catherine, having spent the best part of an hour in her 206:168,04[' ]| arrangements, was beginning to think of stepping into 206:168,05[' ]| bed, when on giving a parting glance round the room, 206:168,06[' ]| she was struck by the appearance of a high, old-fashioned 206:168,07[' ]| black cabinet, which, though in a situation conspicuous 206:168,08[' ]| enough, had never caught her notice before. Henry's 206:168,09[' ]| words, his description of the ebony cabinet which was to 206:168,10[' ]| escape her observation at first, immediately rushed across 206:168,11[' ]| her; and 206:168,11@a | though there could be nothing really in it, there 206:168,12@a | was something whimsical, it was certainly a very remarkable 206:168,13@a | coincidence! 206:168,13[' ]| She took her candle and looked closely 206:168,14[' ]| at the cabinet. 206:168,14@a | It was not absolutely ebony and gold; 206:168,15@a | but it was Japan, black and yellow Japan of the handsomest 206:168,16@a | kind; 206:168,16[' ]| and as she held her candle, the yellow had 206:168,17[' ]| very much the effect of gold. The key was in the door, 206:168,18[' ]| and she had a strange fancy to look into it; 206:168,18@a | not however 206:168,19@a | with the smallest expectation of finding any*thing, but 206:168,20@a | it was so very odd, after what Henry had said. In short, 206:168,21@a | she could not sleep till she had examined it. 206:168,21[' ]| So, placing 206:168,22[' ]| the candle with great caution on a chair, she seized the 206:168,23[' ]| key with a very tremulous hand and tried to turn it; 206:168,24[' ]| but it resisted her utmost strength. Alarmed, but not 206:168,25[' ]| discouraged, she tried it another way; a bolt flew, and 206:168,26[' ]| she believed herself successful; 206:168,26@a | but how strangely 206:168,27@a | mysterious! ~~ 206:168,27@a | the door was still immoveable. 206:168,27[' ]| She paused 206:168,28[' ]| a moment in breathless wonder. The wind roared down 206:168,29[' ]| the chimney, the rain beat in torrents against the windows, 206:168,30[' ]| and every*thing seemed to speak the awfulness of her 206:168,31[' ]| situation. 206:168,31@a | To retire to bed, however, unsatisfied on such 206:168,32@a | a point, would be vain, since sleep must be impossible 206:168,33@a | with the consciousness of a cabinet so mysteriously closed 206:168,34@a | in her immediate vicinity. 206:168,34[' ]| Again therefore she applied 206:168,35[' ]| herself to the key, and after moving it in every possible 206:168,36[' ]| way for some instants with the determined celerity of 206:168,37[' ]| hope's last effort, the door suddenly yielded to her hand: 206:168,38[' ]| her heart leaped with exultation at such a victory, and 206:169,01[' ]| having thrown open each folding*door, the second being 206:169,02[' ]| secured only by bolts of less wonderful construction than 206:169,03[' ]| the lock, though in that her eye could not discern any*thing 206:169,04[' ]| unusual, a double range of small drawers appeared 206:169,05[' ]| in view, with some larger drawers above and below them; 206:169,06[' ]| and in the centre, a small door, closed also with a lock 206:169,07[' ]| and key, secured in all probability a cavity of importance. 206:169,08[' ]| Catherine's heart beat quick, but her courage did not 206:169,09[' ]| fail her. With a cheek flushed by hope, and an eye 206:169,10[' ]| straining with curiosity, her fingers grasped the handle 206:169,11[' ]| of a drawer and drew it forth. It was entirely empty. 206:169,12[' ]| With less alarm and greater eagerness she seized a second, 206:169,13[' ]| a third, a fourth; each was equally empty. Not one 206:169,14[' ]| was left unsearched, and in not one was any*thing found. 206:169,15[' ]| Well read in the art of concealing a treasure, the possibility 206:169,16[' ]| of false linings to the drawers did not escape her, 206:169,17[' ]| and she felt round each with anxious acuteness in vain. 206:169,18[' ]| The place in the middle alone remained now unexplored; 206:169,19[' ]| and though she had 206:169,19[A ]| "never from the first had the smallest 206:169,20[A ]| idea of finding any*thing in any part of the cabinet, and 206:169,21[A ]| was not in the least disappointed at her ill*success thus 206:169,22[A ]| far, it would be foolish not to examine it thoroughly 206:169,23[A ]| while she was about it." 206:169,23[' ]| It was some time however 206:169,24[' ]| before she could unfasten the door, the same difficulty 206:169,25[' ]| occurring in the management of this inner lock as of the 206:169,26[' ]| outer; but at length it did open; and not vain, as 206:169,27[' ]| hitherto, was her search; her quick eyes directly fell on 206:169,28[' ]| a roll of paper pushed back into the further part of the 206:169,29[' ]| cavity, apparently for concealment, and her feelings at 206:169,30[' ]| that moment were indescribable. Her heart fluttered, 206:169,31[' ]| her knees trembled, and her cheeks grew pale. She 206:169,32[' ]| seized, with an unsteady hand, the precious manuscript, 206:169,33[' ]| for half a glance sufficed to ascertain written characters; 206:169,34[' ]| and while she acknowledged with awful sensations this 206:169,35[' ]| striking exemplification of what Henry had foretold, 206:169,36[' ]| resolved instantly to peruse every line before she attempted 206:169,37[' ]| to rest. 206:169,38[' ]| The dimness of the light her candle emitted made her 206:170,01[' ]| turn to it with alarm; but there was no danger of its 206:170,02[' ]| sudden extinction, it had yet some hours to burn; and 206:170,03[' ]| that she might not have any greater difficulty in distinguishing 206:170,04[' ]| the writing than what its ancient date might 206:170,05[' ]| occasion, she hastily snuffed it. Alas! it was snuffed 206:170,06[' ]| and extinguished in one. A lamp could not have expired 206:170,07[' ]| with more awful effect. Catherine, for a few moments, 206:170,08[' ]| was motionless with horror. It was done completely; 206:170,09[' ]| not a remnant of light in the wick could give hope to 206:170,10[' ]| the rekindling breath. Darkness impenetrable and immoveable 206:170,11[' ]| filled the room. A violent gust of wind, rising 206:170,12[' ]| with sudden fury, added fresh horror to the moment. 206:170,13[' ]| Catherine trembled from head to foot. In the pause 206:170,14[' ]| which succeeded, a sound like receding footsteps and the 206:170,15[' ]| closing of a distant door struck on her affrighted ear. 206:170,16[' ]| Human nature could support no more. A cold sweat 206:170,17[' ]| stood on her forehead, the manuscript fell from her hand, 206:170,18[' ]| and groping her way to the bed, she jumped hastily in, 206:170,19[' ]| and sought some suspension of agony by creeping far 206:170,20[' ]| underneath the clothes. To close her eyes in sleep that 206:170,21[' ]| night, she felt must be entirely out of the question. 206:170,22@a | With a curiosity so justly awakened, and feelings in every 206:170,23@a | way so agitated, repose must be absolutely impossible. 206:170,24@a | The storm too abroad so dreadful! ~~ 206:170,24[' ]| She had not been 206:170,25[' ]| used to feel alarm from wind, but now every blast seemed 206:170,26[' ]| fraught with awful intelligence. 206:170,26@a | The manuscript so 206:170,27@a | wonderfully found, so wonderfully accomplishing the 206:170,28@a | morning's prediction, how was it to be accounted for? ~~ 206:170,29@a | What could it contain? ~~ to whom could it relate? ~~ by 206:170,30@a | what means could it have been so long concealed? ~~ and 206:170,31@a | how singularly strange that it should fall to her lot to 206:170,32@a | discover it! Till she had made herself mistress of its 206:170,33@a | contents, however, she could have neither repose nor 206:170,34@a | comfort; and with the sun's first rays she was determined 206:170,35@a | to peruse it. But many were the tedious hours which 206:170,36@a | must yet intervene. 206:170,36[' ]| She shuddered, tossed about in her 206:170,37[' ]| bed, and envied every quiet sleeper. The storm still 206:170,38[' ]| raged, and various were the noises, more terrific even 206:171,01[' ]| than the wind, which struck at intervals on her startled 206:171,02[' ]| ear. The very curtains of her bed seemed at one moment 206:171,03[' ]| in motion, and at another the lock of her door was agitated, 206:171,04[' ]| as if by the attempt of somebody to enter. Hollow 206:171,05[' ]| murmurs seemed to creep along the gallery, and more 206:171,06[' ]| than once her blood was chilled by the sound of distant 206:171,07[' ]| moans. Hour after hour passed away, and the wearied 206:171,08[' ]| Catherine had heard three proclaimed by all the clocks 206:171,09[' ]| in the house, before the tempest subsided, or she unknowingly 206:171,10[' ]| fell fast asleep. 207:172,01[' ]| The housemaid's folding back her window-shutters at 207:172,02[' ]| eight o'clock the next day, was the sound which first 207:172,03[' ]| roused Catherine; and she opened her eyes, wondering 207:172,04[' ]| that they could ever have been closed, on objects of 207:172,05[' ]| cheerfulness; her fire was already burning, and a bright 207:172,06[' ]| morning had succeeded the tempest of the night. Instantaneously 207:172,07[' ]| with the consciousness of existence, returned 207:172,08[' ]| her recollection of the manuscript; and springing from 207:172,09[' ]| the bed in the very moment of the maid's going away, 207:172,10[' ]| she eagerly collected every scattered sheet which had 207:172,11[' ]| burst from the roll on its falling to the ground, and flew 207:172,12[' ]| back to enjoy the luxury of their perusal on her pillow. 207:172,13[' ]| She now plainly saw that she must not expect a manuscript 207:172,14[' ]| of equal length with the generality of what she had 207:172,15[' ]| shuddered over in books, for the roll, seeming to consist 207:172,16[' ]| entirely of small disjointed sheets, was altogether but of 207:172,17[' ]| trifling size, and much less than she had supposed it to 207:172,18[' ]| be at first. 207:172,19[' ]| Her greedy eye glanced rapidly over a page. She 207:172,20[' ]| started at its import. 207:172,20@a | Could it be possible, or did not her 207:172,21@a | senses play her false? ~~ An inventory of linen, in coarse 207:172,22@a | and modern characters, seemed all that was before her! 207:172,23@a | If the evidence of sight might be trusted, she held a 207:172,24@a | washing-bill in her hand. 207:172,24[' ]| She seized another sheet, and 207:172,25[' ]| saw the same articles with little variation; 207:172,25@a | a third, 207:172,26@a | a fourth, and a fifth presented nothing new. Shirts, 207:172,27@a | stockings, cravats and waistcoats faced her in each. 207:172,28@a | Two others, penned by the same hand, marked an expenditure 207:172,29@a | scarcely more interesting, in letters, hair-powder, 207:172,30@a | shoe-string and breeches-ball. And the larger sheet, 207:172,31@a | which had inclosed the rest, seemed by its first cramp 207:172,32@a | line, 207:172,32@x | "To poultice chesnut mare," ~~ 207:172,32@a | a farrier's bill! 207:172,32[' ]| Such 207:172,33[' ]| was the collection of papers, (left perhaps, as she could 207:173,01[' ]| then suppose, by the negligence of a servant in the place 207:173,02[' ]| whence she had taken them,) which had filled her with 207:173,03[' ]| expectation and alarm, and robbed her of half her night's 207:173,04[' ]| rest! She felt humbled to the dust. 207:173,04@a | Could not the 207:173,05@a | adventure of the chest have taught her wisdom? 207:173,05[' ]| A corner 207:173,06[' ]| of it catching her eye as she lay, seemed to rise up in 207:173,07[' ]| judgment against her. 207:173,07@a | Nothing could now be clearer 207:173,08@a | than the absurdity of her recent fancies. To suppose 207:173,09@a | that a manuscript of many generations back could have 207:173,10@a | remained undiscovered in a room such as that, so modern, 207:173,11@a | so habitable! ~~ or that she should be the first to possess 207:173,12@a | the skill of unlocking a cabinet, the key of which was 207:173,13@a | open to all! 207:173,14@a | How could she have so imposed on herself? ~~ Heaven 207:173,15@a | forbid that Henry*Tilney should ever know her folly! 207:173,16@a | And it was in a great measure his own doing, for had 207:173,17@a | not the cabinet appeared so exactly to agree with his 207:173,18@a | description of her adventures, she should never have felt 207:173,19@a | the smallest curiosity about it. 207:173,19[' ]| This was the only comfort 207:173,20[' ]| that occurred. Impatient to get rid of those hateful 207:173,21[' ]| evidences of her folly, those detestable papers then 207:173,22[' ]| scattered over the bed, she rose directly, and folding them 207:173,23[' ]| up as nearly as possible in the same shape as before, 207:173,24[' ]| returned them to the same spot within the cabinet, with 207:173,25[' ]| a very hearty wish that no untoward accident might ever 207:173,26[' ]| bring them forward again, to disgrace her even with 207:173,27[' ]| herself. 207:173,28@a | Why the locks should have been so difficult to open 207:173,29@a | however, was still something remarkable, for she could 207:173,30@a | now manage them with perfect ease. In this there was 207:173,31@a | surely something mysterious, 207:173,31[' ]| and she indulged in the 207:173,32[' ]| flattering suggestion for half a minute, till the possibility 207:173,33[' ]| of the door's having been at first unlocked, and of being 207:173,34[' ]| herself its fastener, darted into her head, and cost her 207:173,35[' ]| another blush. 207:173,36[' ]| She got away as soon as she could from a room in which 207:173,37[' ]| her conduct produced such unpleasant reflections, and 207:173,38[' ]| found her way with all speed to the breakfast-parlour, 207:174,01[' ]| as it had been pointed out to her by Miss*Tilney the 207:174,02[' ]| evening before. Henry was alone in it; and his immediate 207:174,03[' ]| hope of her having been undisturbed by the tempest, 207:174,04[' ]| with an arch reference to the character of the building 207:174,05[' ]| they inhabited, was rather distressing. For the world 207:174,06[' ]| would she not have her weakness suspected; and yet, 207:174,07[' ]| unequal to an absolute falsehood, was constrained to 207:174,08[' ]| acknowledge that the wind had kept her awake a little. 207:174,09[A ]| "But we have a charming morning after it," 207:174,09[' ]| she added, 207:174,10[' ]| desiring to get rid of the subject; 207:174,10[A ]| "and storms and 207:174,11[A ]| sleeplessness are nothing when they are over. What 207:174,12[A ]| beautiful hyacinths! ~~ I have just learnt to love a hyacinth." 207:174,13[A ]| 207:174,14[B ]| "And how might you learn? ~~ By accident or argument?" 207:174,15[B ]| 207:174,16[A ]| "Your sister taught me; I cannot tell how. Mrs%*Allen 207:174,17[A ]| used to take pains, year after year, to make me like 207:174,18[A ]| them; but I never could, till I saw them the other day 207:174,19[A ]| in Milsom-street; I am naturally indifferent about 207:174,20[A ]| flowers." 207:174,21[B ]| "But now you love a hyacinth. So much the better. 207:174,22[B ]| You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is 207:174,23[B ]| well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible. 207:174,24[B ]| Besides, a taste for flowers is always desirable in your sex, 207:174,25[B ]| as a means of getting you out of doors, and tempting you 207:174,26[B ]| to more frequent exercise than you would otherwise 207:174,27[B ]| take. And though the love of a hyacinth may be rather 207:174,28[B ]| domestic, who can tell, the sentiment once raised, but you 207:174,29[B ]| may in time come to love a rose?" 207:174,30[A ]| "But I do not want any such pursuit to get me out of 207:174,31[A ]| doors. The pleasure of walking and breathing fresh air 207:174,32[A ]| is enough for me, and in fine weather I am out more than 207:174,33[A ]| half my time. ~~ Mamma says, I am never within." 207:174,34[B ]| "At any rate, however, I am pleased that you have 207:174,35[B ]| learnt to love a hyacinth. The mere habit of learning to 207:174,36[B ]| love is the thing; and a teachableness of disposition in 207:174,37[B ]| a young lady is a great blessing. ~~ Has my sister a pleasant 207:174,38[B ]| mode of instruction?" 207:175,01[' ]| Catherine was saved the embarrassment of attempting 207:175,02[' ]| an answer, by the entrance of the General, whose smiling 207:175,03[' ]| compliments announced a happy state of mind, but 207:175,04[' ]| whose gentle hint of sympathetic early rising did not 207:175,05[' ]| advance her composure. 207:175,06[' ]| The elegance of the breakfast set forced itself on 207:175,07[' ]| Catherine's notice when they were seated at table; and, 207:175,08[' ]| luckily, it had been the General's choice. 207:175,08@f | He was 207:175,09@f | enchanted by her approbation of his taste, confessed it 207:175,10@f | to be neat and simple, thought it right to encourage the 207:175,11@f | manufacture of his country; and for his part, to his 207:175,12@f | uncritical palate, the tea was as well flavoured from the 207:175,13@f | clay of Staffordshire, as from that of Dresden or Se^ve. 207:175,14@f | But this was quite an old set, purchased two years ago. 207:175,15@f | The manufacture was much improved since that time; 207:175,16@f | he had seen some beautiful specimens when last in town, 207:175,17@f | and had he not been perfectly without vanity of that kind, 207:175,18@f | might have been tempted to order a new set. He trusted, 207:175,19@f | however, that an opportunity might ere long occur of 207:175,20@f | selecting one ~~ though not for himself. 207:175,20[' ]| Catherine was 207:175,21[' ]| probably the only one of the party who did not understand 207:175,22[' ]| him. 207:175,23[' ]| Shortly after breakfast Henry left them for Woodston, 207:175,24[' ]| where business required and would keep him two or three 207:175,25[' ]| days. They all attended in the hall to see him mount 207:175,26[' ]| his horse, and immediately on re-entering the breakfast*room, 207:175,27[' ]| Catherine walked to the window in the hope of 207:175,28[' ]| catching another glimpse of his figure. 207:175,28[F ]| "This is a somewhat 207:175,29[F ]| heavy call upon your brother's fortitude," 207:175,29[' ]| observed 207:175,30[' ]| the General to Eleanor. 207:175,30[F ]| "Woodston will make but 207:175,31[F ]| a sombre appearance to-day." 207:175,32[A ]| "Is it a pretty place?" 207:175,32[' ]| asked Catherine. 207:175,33[F ]| "What say you, Eleanor? ~~ speak your opinion, for 207:175,34[F ]| ladies can best tell the taste of ladies in regard to places 207:175,35[F ]| as well as men. I think it would be acknowledged by the 207:175,36[F ]| most impartial eye to have many recommendations. 207:175,37[F ]| The house stands among fine meadows facing the south-east, 207:175,38[F ]| with an excellent kitchen-garden in the same aspect; 207:176,01[F ]| the walls surrounding which I built and stocked myself 207:176,02[F ]| about ten years ago, for the benefit of my son. It is 207:176,03[F ]| a family living, Miss*Morland; and the property in the 207:176,04[F ]| place being chiefly my own, you may believe I take care 207:176,05[F ]| that it shall not be a bad one. Did Henry's income 207:176,06[F ]| depend solely on this living, he would not be ill provided 207:176,07[F ]| for. Perhaps it may seem odd, that with only two 207:176,08[F ]| younger children, I should think any profession necessary 207:176,09[F ]| for him; and certainly there are moments when we could 207:176,10[F ]| all wish him disengaged from every tie of business. But 207:176,11[F ]| though I may not exactly make converts of you young 207:176,12[F ]| ladies, I am sure your father, Miss*Morland, would agree 207:176,13[F ]| with me in thinking it expedient to give every young man 207:176,14[F ]| some employment. The money is nothing, it is not an 207:176,15[F ]| object, but employment is the thing. Even Frederick, 207:176,16[F ]| my eldest son, you see, who will perhaps inherit as considerable 207:176,17[F ]| a landed property as any private man in the 207:176,18[F ]| county, has his profession." 207:176,19[' ]| The imposing effect of this last argument was equal to 207:176,20[' ]| his wishes. The silence of the lady proved it to be 207:176,21[' ]| unanswerable. 207:176,22[' ]| Something had been said the evening before of her 207:176,23[' ]| being shewn over the house, and he now offered himself 207:176,24[' ]| as her conductor; and though Catherine had hoped to 207:176,25[' ]| explore it accompanied only by his daughter, it was 207:176,26[' ]| a proposal of too much happiness in itself, under any 207:176,27[' ]| circumstances, not to be gladly accepted; for she had 207:176,28[' ]| been already eighteen hours in the Abbey, and had seen 207:176,29[' ]| only a few of its rooms. The netting-box, just leisurely 207:176,30[' ]| drawn forth, was closed with joyful haste, and she was 207:176,31[' ]| ready to attend him in a moment. 207:176,31[F ]| "And when they had 207:176,32[F ]| gone over the house, he promised himself moreover the 207:176,33[F ]| pleasure of accompanying her into the shrubberies and 207:176,34[F ]| garden." 207:176,34[' ]| She curtsied her acquiescence. 207:176,34[F ]| "But perhaps 207:176,35[F ]| it might be more agreeable to her to make those her first 207:176,36[F ]| object. The weather was at present favourable, and at 207:176,37[F ]| this time of year the uncertainty was very great of its 207:176,38[F ]| continuing so. ~~ Which would she prefer? He was 207:177,01[F ]| equally at her service. ~~ Which did his daughter think 207:177,02[F ]| would most accord with her fair friend's wishes? ~~ But 207:177,03[F ]| he thought he could discern. ~~ Yes, he certainly read in 207:177,04[F ]| Miss*Morland's eyes a judicious desire of making use of 207:177,05[F ]| the present smiling weather. ~~ But when did she judge 207:177,06[F ]| amiss? ~~ The Abbey would be always safe and dry. ~~ He 207:177,07[F ]| yielded implicitly, and would fetch his hat and attend 207:177,08[F ]| them in a moment." 207:177,08[' ]| He left the room, and Catherine, 207:177,09[' ]| with a disappointed, anxious face, began to speak of her 207:177,10[' ]| unwillingness that he should be taking them out of doors 207:177,11[' ]| against his own inclination, under a mistaken idea of 207:177,12[' ]| pleasing her; but she was stopt by Miss*Tilney's saying, 207:177,13[' ]| with a little confusion, 207:177,13[C ]| "I believe it will be wisest to take the 207:177,14[C ]| morning while it is so fine; and do not be uneasy on my 207:177,15[C ]| father's account, he always walks out at this time of day." 207:177,16[' ]| Catherine did not exactly know how this was to be 207:177,17[' ]| understood. 207:177,17@a | Why was Miss*Tilney embarrassed? Could 207:177,18@a | there be any unwillingness on the General's side to shew 207:177,19@a | her over the Abbey? The proposal was his own. And 207:177,20@a | was not it odd that he should \always\ take his walk 207:177,21@a | so early? Neither her father nor Mr%*Allen did so. 207:177,22@a | It was certainly very provoking. She was all impatience 207:177,23@a | to see the house, and had scarcely any curiosity about 207:177,24@a | the grounds. If Henry had been with them indeed! ~~ 207:177,25@a | but now she should not know what was picturesque when 207:177,26@a | she saw it. 207:177,26[' ]| Such were her thoughts, but she kept them 207:177,27[' ]| to herself, and put on her bonnet in patient discontent. 207:177,28[' ]| She was struck however, beyond her expectation, by 207:177,29[' ]| the grandeur of the Abbey, as she saw it for the first time 207:177,30[' ]| from the lawn. The whole building enclosed a large 207:177,31[' ]| court; and two sides of the quadrangle, rich in Gothic 207:177,32[' ]| ornaments, stood forward for admiration. The remainder 207:177,33[' ]| was shut off by knolls of old trees, or luxuriant plantations, 207:177,34[' ]| and the steep woody hills rising behind to give it 207:177,35[' ]| shelter, were beautiful even in the leafless month of 207:177,36[' ]| March. Catherine had seen nothing to compare with it; 207:177,37[' ]| and her feelings of delight were so strong, that without 207:177,38[' ]| waiting for any better authority, she boldly burst forth 207:178,01[' ]| in wonder and praise. The General listened with assenting 207:178,02[' ]| gratitude; and it seemed as if his own estimation of 207:178,03[' ]| Northanger had waited unfixed till that hour. 207:178,04[' ]| The kitchen-garden was to be next admired, and he 207:178,05[' ]| led the way to it across a small portion of the park. 207:178,06[' ]| The number of acres contained in this garden was such 207:178,07[' ]| as Catherine could not listen to without dismay, being 207:178,08[' ]| more than double the extent of all Mr%*Allen's, as well as 207:178,09[' ]| her father's, including church-yard and orchard. The 207:178,10[' ]| walls seemed countless in number, endless in length; 207:178,11[' ]| a village of hot-houses seemed to arise among them, and 207:178,12[' ]| a whole parish to be at work within the inclosure. The 207:178,13[' ]| General was flattered by her looks of surprize, which told 207:178,14[' ]| him almost as plainly, as he soon forced her to tell him 207:178,15[' ]| in words, that she had never seen any gardens at all 207:178,16[' ]| equal to them before; ~~ and he then modestly owned that, 207:178,17[F ]| "without any ambition of that sort himself ~~ without 207:178,18[F ]| any solicitude about it, ~~ he did believe them to be 207:178,19[F ]| unrivalled in the kingdom. If he had a hobby-horse, it 207:178,20[F ]| was \that\. He loved a garden. Though careless enough 207:178,21[F ]| in most matters of eating, he loved good fruit ~~ or if he 207:178,22[F ]| did not, his friends and children did. There were great 207:178,23[F ]| vexations however attending such a garden as his. The 207:178,24[F ]| utmost care could not always secure the most valuable 207:178,25[F ]| fruits. The pinery had yielded only one hundred in the 207:178,26[F ]| last year. Mr%*Allen, he supposed, must feel these 207:178,27[F ]| inconveniences as well as himself." 207:178,28[A ]| "No, not at all. Mr%*Allen did not care about the 207:178,29[A ]| garden, and never went into it." 207:178,30[' ]| With a triumphant smile of self-satisfaction, the 207:178,31[' ]| General 207:178,31@f | wished he could do the same, for he never entered 207:178,32@f | his, without being vexed in some way or other, by its 207:178,33@f | falling short of his plan. 207:178,34[F ]| "How were Mr%*Allen's succession-houses worked?" 207:178,35[' ]| describing the nature of his own as they entered them. 207:178,36[A ]| "Mr%*Allen had only one small hot-house, which Mrs%*Allen 207:178,37[A ]| had the use of for her plants in winter, and there 207:178,38[A ]| was a fire in it now and then." 207:179,01[F ]| "He is a happy man!" 207:179,01[' ]| said the General, with a look 207:179,02[' ]| of very happy contempt. 207:179,03[' ]| Having taken her into every division, and led her 207:179,04[' ]| under every wall, till she was heartily weary of seeing 207:179,05[' ]| and wondering, he suffered the girls at last to seize the 207:179,06[' ]| advantage of an outer door, and then expressing his wish 207:179,07[' ]| to examine the effect of some recent alterations about the 207:179,08[' ]| tea-house, proposed it as 207:179,08@f | no unpleasant extension of their 207:179,09@f | walk, if Miss*Morland were not tired. 207:179,09[F ]| "But where are 207:179,10[F ]| you going, Eleanor? ~~ Why do you chuse that cold, 207:179,11[F ]| damp path to it? Miss*Morland will get wet. Our best 207:179,12[F ]| way is across the park." 207:179,13[C ]| "This is so favourite a walk of mine," 207:179,13[' ]| said Miss*Tilney, 207:179,14[C ]| "that I always think it the best and nearest way. But 207:179,15[C ]| perhaps it may be damp." 207:179,16[' ]| It was a narrow winding path through a thick grove of 207:179,17[' ]| old Scotch firs; and Catherine, struck by its gloomy 207:179,18[' ]| aspect, and eager to enter it, could not, even by the 207:179,19[' ]| General's disapprobation, be kept from stepping forward. 207:179,20[' ]| He perceived her inclination, and having again urged the 207:179,21[' ]| plea of health in vain, was too polite to make further 207:179,22[' ]| opposition. He excused himself however from attending 207:179,23[' ]| them: ~~ 207:179,23[F ]| "The rays of the sun were not too cheerful for 207:179,24[F ]| him, and he would meet them by another course." 207:179,24[' ]| He 207:179,25[' ]| turned away; and Catherine was shocked to find how 207:179,26[' ]| much her spirits were relieved by the separation. The 207:179,27[' ]| shock however being less real than the relief, offered it no 207:179,28[' ]| injury; and she began to talk with easy gaiety of the 207:179,29[' ]| delightful melancholy which such a grove inspired. 207:179,30[C ]| "I am particularly fond of this spot," 207:179,30[' ]| said her companion, 207:179,31[' ]| with a sigh. 207:179,31[C ]| "It was my mother's favourite 207:179,32[C ]| walk." 207:179,33[' ]| Catherine had never heard Mrs%*Tilney mentioned in 207:179,34[' ]| the family before, and the interest excited by this tender 207:179,35[' ]| remembrance, shewed itself directly in her altered countenance, 207:179,36[' ]| and in the attentive pause with which she waited 207:179,37[' ]| for something more. 207:179,38[C ]| "I used to walk here so often with her!" 207:179,38[' ]| added Eleanor; 207:180,01[C ]| "though I never loved it then, as I have loved it since. 207:180,02[C ]| At that time indeed I used to wonder at her choice. 207:180,03[C ]| But her memory endears it now." 207:180,04@a | "And ought it not," 207:180,04[' ]| reflected Catherine, 207:180,04@a | "to endear it 207:180,05@a | to her husband? Yet the General would not enter it." 207:180,06[' ]| Miss*Tilney continuing silent, she ventured to say, 207:180,06[A ]| "Her 207:180,07[A ]| death must have been a great affliction!" 207:180,08[C ]| "A great and increasing one," 207:180,08[' ]| replied the other, in 207:180,09[' ]| a low voice. 207:180,09[C ]| "I was only thirteen when it happened; 207:180,10[C ]| and though I felt my loss perhaps as strongly as one so 207:180,11[C ]| young could feel it, I did not, I could not then know what 207:180,12[C ]| a loss it was." 207:180,12[' ]| She stopped for a moment, and then 207:180,13[' ]| added, with great firmness, 207:180,13[C ]| "I have no sister, you know 207:180,14[C ]| ~~ and though Henry ~~ though my brothers are very 207:180,15[C ]| affectionate, and Henry is a great deal here, which I am 207:180,16[C ]| most thankful for, it is impossible for me not to be often 207:180,17[C ]| solitary." 207:180,18[A ]| "To be sure you must miss him very much." 207:180,19[C ]| "A mother would have been always present. A mother 207:180,20[C ]| would have been a constant friend; her influence would 207:180,21[C ]| have been beyond all other." 207:180,22[A ]| "Was she a very charming woman? Was she handsome? 207:180,23[A ]| Was there any picture of her in the Abbey? 207:180,24[A ]| And why had she been so partial to that grove? Was it 207:180,25[A ]| from dejection of spirits?" 207:180,25[' ]| ~~ were questions now eagerly 207:180,26[' ]| poured forth; ~~ the first three received a ready affirmative, 207:180,27[' ]| the two others were passed by; and Catherine's interest 207:180,28[' ]| in the deceased Mrs%*Tilney augmented with every 207:180,29[' ]| question, whether answered or not. Of her unhappiness 207:180,30[' ]| in marriage, she felt persuaded. 207:180,30@a | The General certainly 207:180,31@a | had been an unkind husband. He did not love her walk: 207:180,32@a | ~~ could he therefore have loved her? And besides, handsome 207:180,33@a | as he was, there was a something in the turn of his 207:180,34@a | features which spoke his not having behaved well to her. 207:180,35[A ]| "Her picture, I suppose," 207:180,35[' ]| blushing at the consummate 207:180,36[' ]| art of her own question, 207:180,36[A ]| "hangs in your father's room?" 207:180,37[C ]| "No; ~~ it was intended for the drawing-room; but my 207:180,38[C ]| father was dissatisfied with the painting, and for some 207:181,01[C ]| time it had no place. Soon after her death I obtained it 207:181,02[C ]| for my own, and hung it in my bed-chamber ~~ where 207:181,03[C ]| I shall be happy to shew it you; ~~ it is very like." ~~ 207:181,03@a | Here 207:181,04@a | was another proof. A portrait ~~ very like ~~ of a departed 207:181,05@a | wife, not valued by the husband! ~~ He must have been 207:181,06@a | dreadfully cruel to her! 207:181,07[' ]| Catherine attempted no longer to hide from herself the 207:181,08[' ]| nature of the feelings which, in spite of all his attentions, 207:181,09[' ]| he had previously excited; and what had been terror and 207:181,10[' ]| dislike before, was now absolute aversion. Yes, aversion! 207:181,11[' ]| His cruelty to such a charming woman made him odious 207:181,12[' ]| to her. She had often read of such characters; characters, 207:181,13[' ]| which Mr%*Allen had been used to call unnatural and 207:181,14[' ]| overdrawn; but here was proof positive of the contrary. 207:181,15[' ]| She had just settled this point, when the end of the 207:181,16[' ]| path brought them directly upon the General; and in 207:181,17[' ]| spite of all her virtuous indignation, she found herself 207:181,18[' ]| again obliged to walk with him, listen to him, and even 207:181,19[' ]| to smile when he smiled. Being no longer able however 207:181,20[' ]| to receive pleasure from the surrounding objects, she soon 207:181,21[' ]| began to walk with lassitude; the General perceived it, 207:181,22[' ]| and with a concern for her health, which seemed to 207:181,23[' ]| reproach her for her opinion of him, was most urgent 207:181,24[' ]| for returning with his daughter to the house. 207:181,24@f | He would 207:181,25@f | follow them in a quarter of an hour. 207:181,25[' ]| Again they parted ~~ 207:181,26[' ]| but Eleanor was called back in half a minute to receive 207:181,27[' ]| a strict charge against taking her friend round the Abbey 207:181,28[' ]| till his return. This second instance of his anxiety to 207:181,29[' ]| delay what she so much wished for, struck Catherine as 207:181,30[' ]| very remarkable. 208:182,01[' ]| An hour passed away before the General came in, 208:182,02[' ]| spent, on the part of his young guest, in no very favourable 208:182,03[' ]| consideration of his character. ~~ 208:182,03@a | "This lengthened absence, 208:182,04@a | these solitary rambles, did not speak a mind at ease, or 208:182,05@a | a conscience void of reproach." ~~ 208:182,05[' ]| At length he appeared; 208:182,06[' ]| and, whatever might have been the gloom of his meditations, 208:182,07[' ]| he could still smile with \them\. Miss*Tilney, understanding 208:182,08[' ]| in part her friend's curiosity to see the house, 208:182,09[' ]| soon revived the subject; and her father being, contrary 208:182,10[' ]| to Catherine's expectations, unprovided with any pretence 208:182,11[' ]| for further delay, beyond that of stopping five minutes 208:182,12[' ]| to order refreshments to be in the room by their return, 208:182,13[' ]| was at last ready to escort them. 208:182,14[' ]| They set forward; and, with a grandeur of air, a dignified 208:182,15[' ]| step, which caught the eye, but could not shake the 208:182,16[' ]| doubts of the well-read Catherine, he led the way across 208:182,17[' ]| the hall, through the common drawing-room and one 208:182,18[' ]| useless anti-chamber, into a room magnificent both in size 208:182,19[' ]| and furniture ~~ the real drawing-room, used only with 208:182,20[' ]| company of consequence. ~~ 208:182,20@a | It was very noble ~~ very 208:182,21@a | grand ~~ very charming! ~~ 208:182,21[' ]| was all that Catherine had to 208:182,22[' ]| say, for her indiscriminating eye scarcely discerned the 208:182,23[' ]| colour of the satin; and all minuteness of praise, all 208:182,24[' ]| praise that had much meaning, was supplied by the 208:182,25[' ]| General: the costliness or elegance of any room's fitting-up 208:182,26[' ]| could be nothing to her; she cared for no furniture of 208:182,27[' ]| a more modern date than the fifteenth century. When 208:182,28[' ]| the General had satisfied his own curiosity, in a close 208:182,29[' ]| examination of every well-known ornament, they proceeded 208:182,30[' ]| into the library, an apartment, in its way, of equal 208:182,31[' ]| magnificence, exhibiting a collection of books, on which 208:182,32[' ]| an humble man might have looked with pride. ~~ Catherine 208:182,33[' ]| heard, admired, and wondered with more genuine feeling 208:182,34[' ]| than before ~~ gathered all that she could from this store-house 208:183,01[' ]| of knowledge, by running over the titles of half 208:183,02[' ]| a shelf, and was ready to proceed. But suites of apartments 208:183,03[' ]| did not spring up with her wishes. ~~ Large as was 208:183,04[' ]| the building, she had already visited the greatest part; 208:183,05[' ]| though, on being told that, with the addition of the 208:183,06[' ]| kitchen, the six or seven rooms she had now seen surrounded 208:183,07[' ]| three sides of the court, she could scarcely 208:183,08[' ]| believe it, or overcome the suspicion of there being many 208:183,09[' ]| chambers secreted. It was some relief, however, that they 208:183,10[' ]| were to return to the rooms in common use, by passing 208:183,11[' ]| through a few of less importance, looking into the court, 208:183,12[' ]| which, with occasional passages, not wholly unintricate, 208:183,13[' ]| connected the different sides; ~~ and she was further 208:183,14[' ]| soothed in her progress, by being told, that she was 208:183,15[' ]| treading what had once been a cloister, having traces of 208:183,16[' ]| cells pointed out, and observing several doors, that were 208:183,17[' ]| neither opened nor explained to her; ~~ by finding herself 208:183,18[' ]| successively in a billiard-room, and in the General's 208:183,19[' ]| private apartment, without comprehending their connexion, 208:183,20[' ]| or being able to turn aright when she left them; 208:183,21[' ]| and lastly, by passing through a dark little room, owning 208:183,22[' ]| Henry's authority, and strewed with his litter of books, 208:183,23[' ]| guns, and great coats. 208:183,24[' ]| From the dining-room of which, though already seen, 208:183,25[' ]| and always to be seen at five o'clock, the General could 208:183,26[' ]| not forego the pleasure of pacing out the length, for the 208:183,27[' ]| more certain information of Miss*Morland, as to what 208:183,28[' ]| she neither doubted nor cared for, they proceeded by 208:183,29[' ]| quick communication to the kitchen ~~ the ancient kitchen 208:183,30[' ]| of the convent, rich in the massy walls and smoke of 208:183,31[' ]| former days, and in the stoves and hot closets of the 208:183,32[' ]| present. The General's improving hand had not loitered 208:183,33[' ]| here: every modern invention to facilitate the labour of 208:183,34[' ]| the cooks, had been adopted within this, their spacious 208:183,35[' ]| theatre; and, when the genius of others had failed, his 208:183,36[' ]| own had often produced the perfection wanted. His 208:183,37[' ]| endowments of this spot alone might at any time have 208:183,38[' ]| placed him high among the benefactors of the convent. 208:184,01[' ]| With the walls of the kitchen ended all the antiquity 208:184,02[' ]| of the Abbey; the fourth side of the quadrangle having, 208:184,03[' ]| on account of its decaying state, been removed by the 208:184,04[' ]| General's father, and the present erected in its place. 208:184,05[' ]| All that was venerable ceased here. The new building 208:184,06[' ]| was not only new, but declared itself to be so; intended 208:184,07[' ]| only for offices, and enclosed behind by stable-yards, no 208:184,08[' ]| uniformity of architecture had been thought necessary. 208:184,09[' ]| Catherine could have raved at the hand which had swept 208:184,10[' ]| away what must have been beyond the value of all the 208:184,11[' ]| rest, for the purposes of mere domestic economy; and 208:184,12[' ]| would willingly have been spared the mortification of 208:184,13[' ]| a walk through scenes so fallen, had the General allowed 208:184,14[' ]| it; 208:184,14@f | but if he had a vanity, it was in the arrangement of 208:184,15@f | his offices; and as he was convinced, that, to a mind like 208:184,16@f | Miss*Morland's, a view of the accommodations and comforts, 208:184,17@f | by which the labours of her inferiors were softened, 208:184,18@f | must always be gratifying, he should make no apology 208:184,19@f | for leading her on. 208:184,19[' ]| They took a slight survey of all; 208:184,20[' ]| and Catherine was impressed, beyond her expectation, by 208:184,21[' ]| their multiplicity and their convenience. The purposes 208:184,22[' ]| for which a few shapeless pantries and a comfortless 208:184,23[' ]| scullery were deemed sufficient at Fullerton, were here 208:184,24[' ]| carried on in appropriate divisions, commodious and 208:184,25[' ]| roomy. The number of servants continually appearing 208:184,26[' ]| did not strike her less than the number of their offices. 208:184,27[' ]| Wherever they went, some pattened girl stopped to 208:184,28[' ]| curtsey or some footman in dishabille sneaked off. 208:184,28@a | Yet 208:184,29@a | this was an Abbey! ~~ How inexpressibly different in these 208:184,30@a | domestic arrangements from such as she had read about 208:184,31@a | ~~ from abbeys and castles, in which, though certainly 208:184,32@a | larger than Northanger, all the dirty work of the house 208:184,33@a | was to be done by two pair of female hands at the utmost. 208:184,34@a | How they could get through it all, had often amazed 208:184,35@a | Mrs%*Allen; 208:184,35[' ]| and, when Catherine saw what was necessary 208:184,36[' ]| here, she began to be amazed herself. 208:184,37[' ]| They returned to the hall, that the chief stair-case 208:184,38[' ]| might be ascended, and the beauty of its wood, and 208:185,01[' ]| ornaments of rich carving might be pointed out: having 208:185,02[' ]| gained the top, they turned in an opposite direction from 208:185,03[' ]| the gallery in which her room lay, and shortly entered 208:185,04[' ]| one on the same plan, but superior in length and breadth. 208:185,05[' ]| She was here shewn successively into three large bed-chambers, 208:185,06[' ]| with their dressing-rooms, most completely 208:185,07[' ]| and handsomely fitted up; every*thing that money and 208:185,08[' ]| taste could do, to give comfort and elegance to apartments, 208:185,09[' ]| had been bestowed on these; and, being furnished 208:185,10[' ]| within the last five years, they were perfect in all that 208:185,11[' ]| would be generally pleasing, and wanting in all that could 208:185,12[' ]| give pleasure to Catherine. As they were surveying the 208:185,13[' ]| last, the General, after slightly naming a few of the 208:185,14[' ]| distinguished characters, by whom they had at times been 208:185,15[' ]| honoured, turned with a smiling countenance to Catherine 208:185,16[' ]| and 208:185,16@f | ventured to hope, that henceforward some of their 208:185,17@f | earliest tenants might be 208:185,17[F ]| "our friends from Fullerton." 208:185,18@a | She felt the unexpected compliment, and deeply regretted 208:185,19@a | the impossibility of thinking well of a man so kindly 208:185,20@a | disposed towards herself, and so full of civility to all her 208:185,21@a | family. 208:185,22[' ]| The gallery was terminated by folding*doors, which 208:185,23[' ]| Miss*Tilney, advancing, had thrown open, and passed 208:185,24[' ]| through, and seemed on the point of doing the same by 208:185,25[' ]| the first door to the left, in another long reach of gallery, 208:185,26[' ]| when the General, coming forwards, called her hastily, 208:185,27[' ]| and, as Catherine thought, rather angrily back, demanding 208:185,28@f | whither she were going? ~~ And what was there more to 208:185,29@f | be seen? ~~ Had not Miss*Morland already seen all that 208:185,30@f | could be worth her notice? ~~ And did she not suppose 208:185,31@f | her friend might be glad of some refreshment after so 208:185,32@f | much exercise? 208:185,32[' ]| Miss*Tilney drew back directly, and the 208:185,33[' ]| heavy doors were closed upon the mortified Catherine, 208:185,34[' ]| who, having seen, in a momentary glance beyond them, 208:185,35[' ]| a narrower passage, more numerous openings, and symptoms 208:185,36[' ]| of a winding stair-case, believed herself at last 208:185,37[' ]| within the reach of something worth her notice; and felt, 208:185,38[' ]| as she unwillingly paced back the gallery, that 208:185,38@a | she would 208:186,01@a | rather be allowed to examine that end of the house, than 208:186,02@a | see all the finery of all the rest. ~~ The General's evident 208:186,03@a | desire of preventing such an examination was an additional 208:186,04@a | stimulant. Something was certainly to be concealed; 208:186,05@a | her fancy, though it had trespassed lately once or 208:186,06@a | twice, could not mislead her here; and what that some*thing 208:186,07@a | was, a short sentence of Miss*Tilney's, as they 208:186,08@a | followed the General at some distance down*stairs, seemed 208:186,09@a | to point out: ~~ 208:186,09[C ]| "I was going to take you into what was 208:186,10[C ]| my mother's room ~~ the room in which she died ~~" 208:186,11[' ]| were all her words; but few as they were, they conveyed 208:186,12[' ]| pages of intelligence to Catherine. 208:186,12@a | It was no wonder that 208:186,13@a | the General should shrink from the sight of such objects 208:186,14@a | as that room must contain; a room in all probability 208:186,15@a | never entered by him since the dreadful scene had passed, 208:186,16@a | which released his suffering wife, and left him to the 208:186,17@a | stings of conscience. 208:186,18[' ]| She ventured, when next alone with Eleanor, to express 208:186,19[' ]| her wish of being permitted to see it, as well as all the 208:186,20[' ]| rest of that side of the house; and Eleanor promised to 208:186,21[' ]| attend her there, whenever they should have a convenient 208:186,22[' ]| hour. Catherine understood her: ~~ 208:186,22@a | the General must be 208:186,23@a | watched from home, before that room could be entered. 208:186,24[A ]| "It remains as it was, I suppose?" 208:186,24[' ]| said she, in a tone 208:186,25[' ]| of feeling. 208:186,26[C ]| "Yes, entirely." 208:186,27[A ]| "And how long ago may it be that your mother died?" 208:186,28[C ]| "She has been dead these nine years." 208:186,28[' ]| And nine 208:186,29[' ]| years, Catherine knew was a trifle of time, compared with 208:186,30[' ]| what generally elapsed after the death of an injured wife, 208:186,31[' ]| before her room was put to rights. 208:186,32[A ]| "You were with her, I suppose, to the last?" 208:186,33[C ]| "No," 208:186,33[' ]| said Miss*Tilney, sighing; 208:186,33[C ]| "I was unfortunately 208:186,34[C ]| from home. ~~ Her illness was sudden and short; and 208:186,35[C ]| before I arrived it was all over." 208:186,36[' ]| Catherine's blood ran cold with the horrid suggestions 208:186,37[' ]| which naturally sprang from these words. 208:186,37@a | Could it be 208:186,38@a | possible? ~~ Could Henry's father? ~~ And yet how many 208:187,01@a | were the examples to justify even the blackest suspicions! 208:187,02[' ]| ~~ And, when she saw him in the evening, while she worked 208:187,03[' ]| with her friend, slowly pacing the drawing-room for an 208:187,04[' ]| hour together in silent thoughtfulness, with downcast eyes 208:187,05[' ]| and contracted brow, she felt secure from all possibility 208:187,06[' ]| of wronging him. 208:187,06@a | It was the air and attitude of a Montoni 208:187,07@a | What could more plainly speak the gloomy workings 208:187,08@a | of a mind not wholly dead to every sense of humanity, 208:187,09@a | in its fearful review of past scenes of guilt? Unhappy 208:187,10@a | man! ~~ 208:187,10[' ]| And the anxiousness of her spirits, directed her 208:187,11[' ]| eyes towards his figure so repeatedly, as to catch Miss*Tilney's 208:187,12[' ]| notice. 208:187,12[C ]| "My father," 208:187,12[' ]| she whispered, 208:187,12[C ]| "often 208:187,13[C ]| walks about the room in this way; it is nothing unusual." 208:187,14@a | "So much the worse!" 208:187,14[' ]| thought Catherine; 208:187,14@a | such 208:187,15@a | ill-timed exercise was of a piece with the strange unseasonableness 208:187,16@a | of his morning walks, and boded nothing 208:187,17@a | good. 208:187,18[' ]| After an evening, the little variety and seeming length 208:187,19[' ]| of which made her peculiarly sensible of Henry's importance 208:187,20[' ]| among them, she was heartily glad to be dismissed; 208:187,21[' ]| though it was a look from the General not designed for 208:187,22[' ]| her observation which sent his daughter to the bell. 208:187,23[' ]| When the butler would have lit his master's candle, 208:187,24[' ]| however, he was forbidden. The latter was not going to 208:187,25[' ]| retire. 208:187,25[F ]| "I have many pamphlets to finish," 208:187,25[' ]| said he to 208:187,26[' ]| Catherine, 208:187,26[F ]| "before I can close my eyes; and perhaps 208:187,27[F ]| may be poring over the affairs of the nation for hours 208:187,28[F ]| after you are asleep. Can either of us be more meetly 208:187,29[F ]| employed? \My\ eyes will be blinding for the good of 208:187,30[F ]| others; and \yours\ preparing by rest for future mischief." 208:187,31[' ]| But neither the business alleged, nor the magnificent 208:187,32[' ]| compliment, could win Catherine from thinking, that 208:187,33@a | some very different object must occasion so serious 208:187,34@a | a delay of proper repose. To be kept up for hours, after 208:187,35@a | the family were in bed, by stupid pamphlets, was not 208:187,36@a | very likely. There must be some deeper cause: some*thing 208:187,37@a | was to be done which could be done only while the 208:187,38@a | household slept; and the probability that Mrs%*Tilney 208:188,01@a | yet lived, shut up for causes unknown, and receiving from 208:188,02@a | the pitiless hands of her husband a nightly supply of 208:188,03@a | coarse food, was the conclusion which necessarily followed. 208:188,04@a | Shocking as was the idea, it was at least better than 208:188,05@a | a death unfairly hastened, as, in the natural course of 208:188,06@a | things, she must ere long be released. The suddenness of 208:188,07@a | her reputed illness; the absence of her daughter, and 208:188,08@a | probably of her other children, at the time ~~ all favoured 208:188,09@a | the supposition of her imprisonment. ~~ Its origin ~~ 208:188,10@a | jealousy perhaps, or wanton cruelty ~~ was yet to be 208:188,11@a | unravelled. 208:188,12[' ]| In revolving these matters, while she undressed, it 208:188,13[' ]| suddenly struck her as not unlikely, that 208:188,13@a | she might that 208:188,14@a | morning have passed near the very spot of this unfortunate 208:188,15@a | woman's confinement ~~ might have been within 208:188,16@a | a few paces of the cell in which she languished out her 208:188,17@a | days; for what part of the Abbey could be more fitted 208:188,18@a | for the purpose than that which yet bore the traces of 208:188,19@a | monastic division? In the high-arched passage, paved 208:188,20@a | with stone, which already she had trodden with peculiar 208:188,21@a | awe, she well remembered the doors of which the General 208:188,22@a | had given no account. To what might not those doors 208:188,23@a | lead? 208:188,23[' ]| In support of the plausibility of this conjecture, 208:188,24[' ]| it further occurred to her, that 208:188,24@a | the forbidden gallery, in 208:188,25@a | which lay the apartments of the unfortunate Mrs%*Tilney, 208:188,26@a | must be, as certainly as her memory could guide her, 208:188,27@a | exactly over this suspected range of cells, and the stair-case 208:188,28@a | by the side of those apartments of which she had caught 208:188,29@a | a transient glimpse, communicating by some secret means 208:188,30@a | with those cells, might well have favoured the barbarous 208:188,31@a | proceedings of her husband. Down that stair-case she 208:188,32@a | had perhaps been conveyed in a state of well-prepared 208:188,33@a | insensibility! 208:188,34[' ]| Catherine sometimes started at the boldness of her own 208:188,35[' ]| surmises, and sometimes hoped or feared that she had 208:188,36[' ]| gone too far; 208:188,36@a | but they were supported by such appearances 208:188,37@a | as made their dismissal impossible. 208:188,38[' ]| The side of the quadrangle, in which she supposed the 208:189,01[' ]| guilty scene to be acting, being, according to her belief, 208:189,02[' ]| just opposite her own, it struck her that, 208:189,02@a | if judiciously 208:189,03@a | watched, some rays of light from the General's lamp 208:189,04@a | might glimmer through the lower windows, as he passed 208:189,05@a | to the prison of his wife; 208:189,05[' ]| and, twice before she stepped 208:189,06[' ]| into bed, she stole gently from her room to the corresponding 208:189,07[' ]| window in the gallery, to see if it appeared; 208:189,08[' ]| but all abroad was dark, and it must yet be too early. 208:189,09[' ]| The various ascending noises convinced her that the 208:189,10[' ]| servants must still be up. 208:189,10@a | Till midnight, 208:189,10[' ]| she supposed 208:189,11@a | it would be in vain to watch; but then, when the clock 208:189,12@a | had struck twelve, and all was quiet, she would, if not 208:189,13@a | quite appalled by darkness, steal out and look once more. 208:189,14[' ]| The clock struck twelve ~~ and Catherine had been half 208:189,15[' ]| an hour asleep. 209:190,01[' ]| The next day afforded no opportunity for the proposed 209:190,02[' ]| examination of the mysterious apartments. It was 209:190,03[' ]| Sunday, and the whole time between morning and afternoon 209:190,04[' ]| service was required by the General in exercise 209:190,05[' ]| abroad or eating cold meat at home; and great as was 209:190,06[' ]| Catherine's curiosity, her courage was not equal to a wish 209:190,07[' ]| of exploring them after dinner, either by the fading light 209:190,08[' ]| of the sky between six and seven o'clock, or by the yet 209:190,09[' ]| more partial though stronger illumination of a treacherous 209:190,10[' ]| lamp. The day was unmarked therefore by any*thing 209:190,11[' ]| to interest her imagination beyond the sight of a very 209:190,12[' ]| elegant monument to the memory of Mrs%*Tilney, which 209:190,13[' ]| immediately fronted the family pew. By that her eye 209:190,14[' ]| was instantly caught and long retained; and the perusal 209:190,15[' ]| of the highly-strained epitaph, in which every virtue 209:190,16[' ]| was ascribed to her by the inconsolable husband, 209:190,16@a | who 209:190,17@a | must have been in some way or other her destroyer, 209:190,18[' ]| affected her even to tears. 209:190,19@a | That the General, having erected such a monument, 209:190,20@a | should be able to face it, was not perhaps very strange, 209:190,21@a | and yet that he could sit so boldly collected within its 209:190,22@a | view, maintain so elevated an air, look so fearlessly 209:190,23@a | around, nay, that he should even enter the church, 209:190,24[' ]| seemed wonderful to Catherine. Not however that many 209:190,25[' ]| instances of beings equally hardened in guilt might not be 209:190,26[' ]| produced. She could remember dozens who had persevered 209:190,27[' ]| in every possible vice, going on from crime to 209:190,28[' ]| crime, murdering whomsoever they chose, without any 209:190,29[' ]| feeling of humanity or remorse; till a violent death or 209:190,30[' ]| a religious retirement closed their black career. The 209:190,31[' ]| erection of the monument itself could not in the smallest 209:190,32[' ]| degree affect her doubts of Mrs%*Tilney's actual decease. 209:190,33@a | Were she even to descend into the family vault where 209:191,01@a | her ashes were supposed to slumber, were she to behold 209:191,02@a | the coffin in which they were said to be enclosed ~~ what 209:191,03@a | could it avail in such a case? 209:191,03[' ]| Catherine had read too 209:191,04[' ]| much not to be perfectly aware of the ease with which 209:191,05[' ]| a waxen figure might be introduced, and a supposititious 209:191,06[' ]| funeral carried on. 209:191,07[' ]| The succeeding morning promised something better. 209:191,08[' ]| The General's early walk, ill-timed as it was in every 209:191,09[' ]| other view, was favourable here; and when she knew 209:191,10[' ]| him to be out of the house, she directly proposed to Miss*Tilney 209:191,11[' ]| the accomplishment of her promise. Eleanor was 209:191,12[' ]| ready to oblige her; and Catherine reminding her as they 209:191,13[' ]| went of another promise, their first visit in consequence 209:191,14[' ]| was to the portrait in her bed-chamber. It presented 209:191,15[' ]| a very lovely woman, with a mild and pensive countenance, 209:191,16[' ]| justifying, so far, the expectations of its new 209:191,17[' ]| observer; but they were not in every respect answered, 209:191,18[' ]| for Catherine had depended upon meeting with features, 209:191,19[' ]| air, complexion that should be the very counterpart, the 209:191,20[' ]| very image, if not of Henry's, of Eleanor's; ~~ the only 209:191,21[' ]| portraits of which she had been in the habit of thinking, 209:191,22[' ]| bearing always an equal resemblance of mother and child. 209:191,23[' ]| A face once taken was taken for generations. But here 209:191,24[' ]| she was obliged to look and consider and study for 209:191,25[' ]| a likeness. She contemplated it, however, in spite of this 209:191,26[' ]| drawback, with much emotion; and, but for a yet 209:191,27[' ]| stronger interest, would have left it unwillingly. 209:191,28[' ]| Her agitation as they entered the great gallery was too 209:191,29[' ]| much for any endeavour at discourse; she could only 209:191,30[' ]| look at her companion. Eleanor's countenance was 209:191,31[' ]| dejected, yet sedate; and its composure spoke her 209:191,32[' ]| enured to all the gloomy objects to which they were 209:191,33[' ]| advancing. Again she passed through the folding-doors, 209:191,34[' ]| again her hand was upon the important lock, and Catherine, 209:191,35[' ]| hardly able to breathe, was turning to close the former 209:191,36[' ]| with fearful caution, when the figure, the dreaded figure 209:191,37[' ]| of the General himself at the further end of the gallery, 209:191,38[' ]| stood before her! The name of 209:191,38[F ]| "Eleanor" 209:191,38[' ]| at the same 209:192,01[' ]| moment, in his loudest tone, resounded through the 209:192,02[' ]| building, giving to his daughter the first intimation of his 209:192,03[' ]| presence, and to Catherine terror upon terror. An 209:192,04[' ]| attempt at concealment had been her first instinctive 209:192,05[' ]| movement on perceiving him, yet she could scarcely hope 209:192,06[' ]| to have escaped his eye; and when her friend, who with 209:192,07[' ]| an apologizing look darted hastily by her, had joined and 209:192,08[' ]| disappeared with him, she ran for safety to her own room, 209:192,09[' ]| and, locking herself in, believed that she should never 209:192,10[' ]| have courage to go down again. She remained there at 209:192,11[' ]| least an hour, in the greatest agitation, deeply commiserating 209:192,12[' ]| the state of her poor friend, and expecting a summons 209:192,13[' ]| herself from the angry General to attend him in his 209:192,14[' ]| own apartment. No summons however arrived; and at 209:192,15[' ]| last, on seeing a carriage drive up to the Abbey, she was 209:192,16[' ]| emboldened to descend and meet him under the protection 209:192,17[' ]| of visitors. The breakfast-room was gay with 209:192,18[' ]| company; and she was named to them by the General, 209:192,19[' ]| as the friend of his daughter, in a complimentary style, 209:192,20[' ]| which so well concealed his resentful ire, as to make her 209:192,21[' ]| feel secure at least of life for the present. And Eleanor, 209:192,22[' ]| with a command of countenance which did honour to her 209:192,23[' ]| concern for his character, taking an early occasion of 209:192,24[' ]| saying to her, 209:192,24[C ]| "My father only wanted me to answer 209:192,25[C ]| a note," 209:192,25[' ]| she began to hope that she had either been 209:192,26[' ]| unseen by the General, or that from some consideration 209:192,27[' ]| of policy she should be allowed to suppose herself so. 209:192,28[' ]| Upon this trust she dared still to remain in his presence, 209:192,29[' ]| after the company left them, and nothing occurred to 209:192,30[' ]| disturb it. 209:192,31[' ]| In the course of this morning's reflections, she came to 209:192,32[' ]| a resolution of making her next attempt on the forbidden 209:192,33[' ]| door alone. 209:192,33@a | It would be much better in every respect that 209:192,34@a | Eleanor should know nothing of the matter. To involve 209:192,35@a | her in the danger of a second detection, to court her into 209:192,36@a | an apartment which must wring her heart, could not be 209:192,37@a | the office of a friend. The General's utmost anger could 209:192,38@a | not be to herself what it might be to a daughter; and, 209:193,01@a | besides, she thought the examination itself would be more 209:193,02@a | satisfactory if made without any companion. It would 209:193,03@a | be impossible to explain to Eleanor the suspicions, from 209:193,04@a | which the other had, in all likelihood, been hitherto 209:193,05@a | happily exempt; nor could she therefore, in \her\ presence, 209:193,06@a | search for those proofs of the General's cruelty, which 209:193,07@a | however they might yet have escaped discovery, she felt 209:193,08@a | confident of somewhere drawing forth, in the shape of 209:193,09@a | some fragmented journal, continued to the last gasp. 209:193,10@a | Of the way to the apartment she was now perfectly 209:193,11@a | mistress; and as she wished to get it over before Henry's 209:193,12@a | return, who was expected on the morrow, there was no 209:193,13@a | time to be lost. The day was bright, her courage high; 209:193,14@a | at four o'clock, the sun was now two hours above the 209:193,15@a | horizon, and it would be only her retiring to dress half 209:193,16@a | an hour earlier than usual. 209:193,17[' ]| It was done; and Catherine found herself alone in the 209:193,18[' ]| gallery before the clocks had ceased to strike. It was no 209:193,19[' ]| time for thought; she hurried on, slipped with the least 209:193,20[' ]| possible noise through the folding*doors, and without 209:193,21[' ]| stopping to look or breathe, rushed forward to the one in 209:193,22[' ]| question. The lock yielded to her hand, and, luckily, 209:193,23[' ]| with no sullen sound that could alarm a human being. 209:193,24[' ]| On tip-toe she entered; the room was before her; but it 209:193,25[' ]| was some minutes before she could advance another step. 209:193,26[' ]| She beheld what fixed her to the spot and agitated every 209:193,27[' ]| feature. ~~ She saw a large, well-proportioned apartment, 209:193,28[' ]| an handsome dimity bed, arranged as unoccupied with an 209:193,29[' ]| housemaid's care, a bright Bath stove, mahogany wardrobes 209:193,30[' ]| and neatly-painted chairs, on which the warm 209:193,31[' ]| beams of a western sun gaily poured through two sash 209:193,32[' ]| windows! Catherine had expected to have her feelings 209:193,33[' ]| worked, and worked they were. Astonishment and doubt 209:193,34[' ]| first seized them; and a shortly succeeding ray of common 209:193,35[' ]| sense added some bitter emotions of shame. 209:193,35@a | She could 209:193,36@a | not be mistaken as to the room; but how grossly mistaken 209:193,37@a | in every*thing else! ~~ in Miss*Tilney's meaning, in 209:193,38@a | her own calculation! This apartment, to which she had 209:194,01@a | given a date so ancient, a position so awful, proved to be 209:194,02@a | one end of what the General's father had built. There 209:194,03@a | were two other doors in the chamber, leading probably 209:194,04@a | into dressing-closets; but she had no inclination to open 209:194,05@a | either. Would the veil in which Mrs%*Tilney had last 209:194,06@a | walked, or the volume in which she had last read, remain 209:194,07@a | to tell what nothing else was allowed to whisper? No: 209:194,08@a | whatever might have been the General's crimes, he had 209:194,09@a | certainly too much wit to let them sue for detection. 209:194,10[' ]| She was sick of exploring, and desired but to be safe in 209:194,11[' ]| her own room, with her own heart only privy to its folly; 209:194,12[' ]| and she was on the point of retreating as softly as she had 209:194,13[' ]| entered, when the sound of footsteps, she could hardly 209:194,14[' ]| tell where, made her pause and tremble. 209:194,14@a | To be found 209:194,15@a | there, even by a servant, would be unpleasant; but by 209:194,16@a | the General, (and he seemed always at hand when least 209:194,17@a | wanted,) much worse! ~~ 209:194,17[' ]| She listened ~~ the sound had 209:194,18[' ]| ceased; and resolving not to lose a moment, she passed 209:194,19[' ]| through and closed the door. At that instant a door 209:194,20[' ]| underneath was hastily opened; some*one seemed with 209:194,21[' ]| swift steps to ascend the stairs, by the head of which she 209:194,22[' ]| had yet to pass before she could gain the gallery. She 209:194,23[' ]| had no power to move. With a feeling of terror not very 209:194,24[' ]| definable, she fixed her eyes on the staircase, and in a few 209:194,25[' ]| moments it gave Henry to her view. 209:194,25[A ]| "Mr%*Tilney!" 209:194,25[' ]| she 209:194,26[' ]| exclaimed in a voice of more than common astonishment. 209:194,27[' ]| He looked astonished too. 209:194,27[A ]| "Good God!" 209:194,27[' ]| she continued, 209:194,28[' ]| not attending to his address, 209:194,28[A ]| "how came you 209:194,29[A ]| here? ~~ how came you up that staircase?" 209:194,30[B ]| "How came I up that staircase!" 209:194,30[' ]| he replied, greatly 209:194,31[' ]| surprized. 209:194,31[B ]| "Because it is my nearest way from the 209:194,32[B ]| stable-yard to my own chamber; and why should I not 209:194,33[B ]| come up it?" 209:194,34[' ]| Catherine recollected herself, blushed deeply, and could 209:194,35[' ]| say no more. He seemed to be looking in her countenance 209:194,36[' ]| for that explanation which her lips did not 209:194,37[' ]| afford. She moved on towards the gallery. 209:194,37[B ]| "And may 209:194,38[B ]| I not, in my turn," 209:194,38[' ]| said he, as he pushed back the folding*doors, 209:195,01[B ]| "ask how \you\ came here? ~~ This passage is at 209:195,02[B ]| least as extraordinary a road from the breakfast-parlour 209:195,03[B ]| to your apartment, as that staircase can be from the 209:195,04[B ]| stables to mine." 209:195,05[A ]| "I have been," 209:195,05[' ]| said Catherine, looking down, 209:195,05[A ]| "to see 209:195,06[A ]| your mother's room." 209:195,07[B ]| "My mother's room! ~~ Is there any*thing extraordinary 209:195,08[B ]| to be seen there?" 209:195,09[A ]| "No, nothing at all. ~~ I thought you did not mean to 209:195,10[A ]| come back till to-morrow." 209:195,11[B ]| "I did not expect to be able to return sooner, when 209:195,12[B ]| I went away; but three hours ago I had the pleasure of 209:195,13[B ]| finding nothing to detain me. ~~ You look pale. ~~ I am 209:195,14[B ]| afraid I alarmed you by running so fast up those stairs. 209:195,15[B ]| Perhaps you did not know ~~ you were not aware of their 209:195,16[B ]| leading from the offices in common use?" 209:195,17[A ]| "No, I was not. ~~ You have had a very fine day for 209:195,18[A ]| your ride." 209:195,19[B ]| "Very; ~~ and does Eleanor leave you to find your way 209:195,20[B ]| into all the rooms in the house by yourself?" 209:195,21[A ]| "Oh! no; she shewed me over the greatest part on 209:195,22[A ]| Saturday ~~ and we were coming here to these rooms ~~ 209:195,23[A ]| but only ~~ 209:195,23[' ]| (dropping her voice) ~~ 209:195,23[A ]| your father was with us." 209:195,24[B ]| "And that prevented you;" 209:195,24[' ]| said Henry, earnestly 209:195,25[' ]| regarding her. ~~ 209:195,25[B ]| "Have you looked into all the rooms in 209:195,26[B ]| that passage?" 209:195,27[A ]| "No, I only wanted to see ~~ Is not it very late? 209:195,28[A ]| I must go and dress." 209:195,29[B ]| "It is only a quarter past four, 209:195,29[' ]| (shewing his watch) 209:195,29[B ]| and 209:195,30[B ]| you are not now in Bath. No theatre, no rooms to 209:195,31[B ]| prepare for. Half an hour at Northanger must be enough." 209:195,32[' ]| She could not contradict it, and therefore suffered herself 209:195,33[' ]| to be detained, though her dread of further questions 209:195,34[' ]| made her, for the first time in their acquaintance, wish to 209:195,35[' ]| leave him. They walked slowly up the gallery. 209:195,35[B ]| "Have 209:195,36[B ]| you had any letter from Bath since I saw you?" 209:195,37[A ]| "No, and I am very much surprized. Isabella promised 209:195,38[A ]| so faithfully to write directly." 209:196,01[B ]| "Promised so faithfully! ~~ A faithful promise! ~~ That 209:196,02[B ]| puzzles me. ~~ I have heard of a faithful performance. 209:196,03[B ]| But a faithful promise ~~ the fidelity of promising! It is 209:196,04[B ]| a power little worth knowing however, since it can deceive 209:196,05[B ]| and pain you. My mother's room is very commodious, 209:196,06[B ]| is it not? Large and cheerful-looking, and the dressing*closets 209:196,07[B ]| so well disposed! It always strikes me as the most 209:196,08[B ]| comfortable apartment in the house, and I rather wonder 209:196,09[B ]| that Eleanor should not take it for her own. She sent you 209:196,10[B ]| to look at it, I suppose?" 209:196,11[A ]| "No." 209:196,12[B ]| "It has been your own doing entirely?" ~~ 209:196,12[' ]| Catherine 209:196,13[' ]| said nothing ~~ After a short silence, during which he had 209:196,14[' ]| closely observed her, he added, 209:196,14[B ]| "As there is nothing in 209:196,15[B ]| the room in itself to raise curiosity, this must have proceeded 209:196,16[B ]| from a sentiment of respect for my mother's 209:196,17[B ]| character, as described by Eleanor, which does honour 209:196,18[B ]| to her memory. The world, I believe, never saw a better 209:196,19[B ]| woman. But it is not often that virtue can boast an 209:196,20[B ]| interest such as this. The domestic, unpretending merits 209:196,21[B ]| of a person never known, do not often create that kind 209:196,22[B ]| of fervent, venerating tenderness which would prompt 209:196,23[B ]| a visit like yours. Eleanor, I suppose, has talked of her 209:196,24[B ]| a great deal?" 209:196,25[A ]| "Yes, a great deal. That is ~~ no, not much, but what 209:196,26[A ]| she did say, was very interesting. Her dying so suddenly," 209:196,27[' ]| (slowly, and with hesitation it was spoken,) 209:196,27[A ]| "and you ~~ 209:196,28[A ]| none of you being at home ~~ and your father, I thought ~~ 209:196,29[A ]| perhaps had not been very fond of her." 209:196,30[B ]| "And from these circumstances," 209:196,30[' ]| he replied, (his quick 209:196,31[' ]| eye fixed on her's,) 209:196,31[B ]| "you infer perhaps the probability of 209:196,32[B ]| some negligence ~~ some ~~ 209:196,32[' ]| (involuntarily she shook her 209:196,33[' ]| head) ~~ 209:196,33[B ]| or it may be ~~ of something still less pardonable." 209:196,34[' ]| She raised her eyes towards him more fully than she had 209:196,35[' ]| ever done before. 209:196,35[B ]| "My mother's illness," 209:196,35[' ]| he continued, 209:196,36[B ]| "the seizure which ended in her death \was\ sudden. The 209:196,37[B ]| malady itself, one from which she had often suffered, 209:196,38[B ]| a bilious fever ~~ its cause therefore constitutional. On the 209:197,01[B ]| third day, in short as soon as she could be prevailed on, 209:197,02[B ]| a physician attended her, a very respectable man, and one 209:197,03[B ]| in whom she had always placed great confidence. Upon 209:197,04[B ]| his opinion of her danger, two others were called in the 209:197,05[B ]| next day, and remained in almost constant attendance 209:197,06[B ]| for four-and-twenty hours. On the fifth day she died. 209:197,07[B ]| During the progress of her disorder, Frederick and I (\we\ 209:197,08[B ]| were both at home) saw her repeatedly; and from our 209:197,09[B ]| own observation can bear witness to her having received 209:197,10[B ]| every possible attention which could spring from the 209:197,11[B ]| affection of those about her, or which her situation in 209:197,12[B ]| life could command. Poor Eleanor \was\ absent, and at 209:197,13[B ]| such a distance as to return only to see her mother in her 209:197,14[B ]| coffin." 209:197,15[A ]| "But your father," 209:197,15[' ]| said Catherine, 209:197,15[A ]| "was \he\ afflicted?" 209:197,16[B ]| "For a time, greatly so. You have erred in supposing 209:197,17[B ]| him not attached to her. He loved her, I am persuaded, 209:197,18[B ]| as well as it was possible for him to ~~ We have not all, 209:197,19[B ]| you know, the same tenderness of disposition ~~ and I will 209:197,20[B ]| not pretend to say that while she lived, she might not 209:197,21[B ]| often have had much to bear, but though his temper 209:197,22[B ]| injured her, his judgment never did. His value of her 209:197,23[B ]| was sincere; and, if not permanently, he was truly 209:197,24[B ]| afflicted by her death." 209:197,25[A ]| "I am very glad of it," 209:197,25[' ]| said Catherine, 209:197,25[A ]| "it would have 209:197,26[A ]| been very shocking!" ~~ 209:197,27[B ]| "If I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise 209:197,28[B ]| of such horror as I have hardly words to ~~ Dear Miss*Morland, 209:197,29[B ]| consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions 209:197,30[B ]| you have entertained. What have you been judging 209:197,31[B ]| from? Remember the country and the age in which we 209:197,32[B ]| live. Remember that we are English, that we are 209:197,33[B ]| Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own 209:197,34[B ]| sense of the probable, your own observation of what is 209:197,35[B ]| passing around you ~~ Does our education prepare us for 209:197,36[B ]| such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could 209:197,37[B ]| they be perpetrated without being known, in a country 209:197,38[B ]| like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such 209:198,01[B ]| a footing; where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood 209:198,02[B ]| of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers 209:198,03[B ]| lay every*thing open? Dearest Miss*Morland, 209:198,04[B ]| what ideas have you been admitting?" 209:198,05[' ]| They had reached the end of the gallery; and with 209:198,06[' ]| tears of shame she ran off to her own room. 210:199,01[' ]| The visions of romance were over. Catherine was 210:199,02[' ]| completely awakened. Henry's address, short as it had 210:199,03[' ]| been, had more thoroughly opened her eyes to the extravagance 210:199,04[' ]| of her late fancies than all their several disappointments 210:199,05[' ]| had done. Most grievously was she humbled. 210:199,06[' ]| Most bitterly did she cry. 210:199,06@a | It was not only with herself 210:199,07@a | that she was sunk ~~ but with Henry. Her folly, which 210:199,08@a | now seemed even criminal, was all exposed to him, and he 210:199,09@a | must despise her for*ever. The liberty which her imagination 210:199,10@a | had dared to take with the character of his father, 210:199,11@a | could he ever forgive it? The absurdity of her curiosity 210:199,12@a | and her fears, could they ever be forgotten? She hated 210:199,13@a | herself more than she could express. He had ~~ she 210:199,14@a | thought he had, once or twice before this fatal morning, 210:199,15@a | shewn something like affection for her. ~~ But now ~~ 210:199,15[' ]| in 210:199,16[' ]| short, she made herself as miserable as possible for about 210:199,17[' ]| half an hour, went down when the clock struck five, with 210:199,18[' ]| a broken heart, and could scarcely given an intelligible 210:199,19[' ]| answer to Eleanor's inquiry, if she was well. 210:199,19@a | The formidable 210:199,20@a | Henry soon followed her into the room, and the only 210:199,21@a | difference in his behaviour to her, was that he paid her 210:199,22@a | rather more attention than usual. Catherine had never 210:199,23@a | wanted comfort more, and he looked as if he was aware of it. 210:199,24[' ]| The evening wore away with no abatement of this 210:199,25[' ]| soothing politeness; and her spirits were gradually raised 210:199,26[' ]| to a modest tranquillity. She did not learn either to 210:199,27[' ]| forget or defend the past; but she learned to hope that it 210:199,28[' ]| would never transpire farther, and that it might not cost 210:199,29[' ]| her Henry's entire regard. Her thoughts being still 210:199,30[' ]| chiefly fixed on what she had with such causeless terror 210:199,31[' ]| felt and done, nothing could shortly be clearer, than that 210:199,32[' ]| it had been all a voluntary, self-created delusion, each 210:199,33[' ]| trifling circumstance receiving importance from an 210:200,01[' ]| imagination resolved on alarm, and every*thing forced to 210:200,02[' ]| bend to one purpose by a mind which, before she entered 210:200,03[' ]| the Abbey, had been craving to be frightened. She 210:200,04[' ]| remembered with what feelings she had prepared for a 210:200,05[' ]| knowledge of Northanger. She saw that the infatuation 210:200,06[' ]| had been created, the mischief settled long before her 210:200,07[' ]| quitting Bath, and it seemed as if the whole might be 210:200,08[' ]| traced to the influence of that sort of reading which she 210:200,09[' ]| had there indulged. 210:200,10[' ]| Charming as were all Mrs%*Radcliffe's works, and 210:200,11[' ]| charming even as were the works of all her imitators, it 210:200,12[' ]| was not in them perhaps that human nature, at least in 210:200,13[' ]| the midland counties of England, was to be looked for. 210:200,14[' ]| Of the Alps and Pyrenees, with their pine forests and 210:200,15[' ]| their vices, they might give a faithful delineation; and 210:200,16[' ]| Italy, Switzerland, and the South of France, might be as 210:200,17[' ]| fruitful in horrors as they were there represented. Catherine 210:200,18[' ]| dared not doubt beyond her own country, and even 210:200,19[' ]| of that, if hard pressed, would have yielded the northern 210:200,20[' ]| and western extremities. But in the central part of 210:200,21[' ]| England there was surely some security for the existence 210:200,22[' ]| even of a wife not beloved, in the laws of the land, and the 210:200,23[' ]| manners of the age. Murder was not tolerated, servants 210:200,24[' ]| were not slaves, and neither poison nor sleeping potions 210:200,25[' ]| to be procured, like rhubarb, from every druggist. Among 210:200,26[' ]| the Alps and Pyrenees, perhaps, there were no mixed 210:200,27[' ]| characters. There, such as were not as spotless as an 210:200,28[' ]| angel, might have the dispositions of a fiend. But in 210:200,29[' ]| England it was not so; among the English, she believed, 210:200,30[' ]| in their hearts and habits, there was a general though 210:200,31[' ]| unequal mixture of good and bad. Upon this conviction, 210:200,32[' ]| she would not be surprized if even in Henry and Eleanor*Tilney, 210:200,33[' ]| some slight imperfection might hereafter appear; 210:200,34[' ]| and upon this conviction she need not fear to acknowledge 210:200,35[' ]| some actual specks in the character of their father, who, 210:200,36[' ]| though cleared from the grossly injurious suspicions which 210:200,37[' ]| she must ever blush to have entertained, she did believe, 210:200,38[' ]| upon serious consideration, to be not perfectly amiable. 210:201,01[' ]| Her mind made up on these several points, and her 210:201,02[' ]| resolution formed, of always judging and acting in future 210:201,03[' ]| with the greatest good sense, she had nothing to do but 210:201,04[' ]| to forgive herself and be happier than ever; and the 210:201,05[' ]| lenient hand of time did much for her by insensible 210:201,06[' ]| gradations in the course of another day. Henry's 210:201,07[' ]| astonishing generosity and nobleness of conduct, in never 210:201,08[' ]| alluding in the slightest way to what had passed, was of 210:201,09[' ]| the greatest assistance to her; and sooner than she could 210:201,10[' ]| have supposed it possible in the beginning of her distress, 210:201,11[' ]| her spirits became absolutely comfortable, and capable, as 210:201,12[' ]| heretofore, of continual improvement by any*thing he 210:201,13[' ]| said. There were still some subjects indeed, under which 210:201,14[' ]| she believed they must always tremble; ~~ the mention of 210:201,15[' ]| a chest or a cabinet, for instance ~~ and she did not love 210:201,16[' ]| the sight of japan in any shape: but even \she\ could 210:201,17[' ]| allow, that an occasional memento of past folly, however 210:201,18[' ]| painful, might not be without use. 210:201,19[' ]| The anxieties of common life began soon to succeed to 210:201,20[' ]| the alarms of romance. Her desire of hearing from 210:201,21[' ]| Isabella grew every day greater. She was quite impatient 210:201,22[' ]| to know how the Bath world went on, and how the Rooms 210:201,23[' ]| were attended; and especially was she anxious to be 210:201,24[' ]| assured of Isabella's having matched some fine netting-cotton, 210:201,25[' ]| on which she had left her intent; and of her 210:201,26[' ]| continuing on the best terms with James. Her only 210:201,27[' ]| dependence for information of any kind was on Isabella. 210:201,28@a | James had protested against writing to her till his return 210:201,29@a | to Oxford; and Mrs%*Allen had given her no hopes of 210:201,30@a | a letter till she had got back to Fullerton. ~~ But Isabella 210:201,31@a | had promised and promised again; and when she promised 210:201,32@a | a thing, she was so scrupulous in performing it! 210:201,33@a | this made it so particularly strange! 210:201,34[' ]| For nine successive mornings, Catherine wondered over 210:201,35[' ]| the repetition of a disappointment, which each morning 210:201,36[' ]| became more severe: but, on the tenth, when she entered 210:201,37[' ]| the breakfast-room, her first object was a letter, held out 210:201,38[' ]| by Henry's willing hand. She thanked him as heartily 210:202,01[' ]| as if he had written it himself. 210:202,01[A ]| "'Tis only from James, 210:202,02[A ]| however," 210:202,02[' ]| as she looked at the direction. She opened 210:202,03[' ]| it; it was from Oxford; and to this purpose: ~~ 210:202,04[K ]| ""Dear Catherine, 210:202,05[K ]| Though, God knows, with little inclination for 210:202,06[K ]| writing, I think it my duty to tell you, that every*thing 210:202,07[K ]| is at an end between Miss*Thorpe and me. ~~ I left her and 210:202,08[K ]| Bath yesterday, never to see either again. I shall not 210:202,09[K ]| enter into particulars, they would only pain you more. 210:202,10[K ]| You will soon hear enough from another quarter to know 210:202,11[K ]| where lies the blame; and I hope will acquit your brother 210:202,12[K ]| of every*thing but the folly of too easily thinking his 210:202,13[K ]| affection returned. Thank God! I am undeceived in 210:202,14[K ]| time! But it is a heavy blow! ~~ After my father's consent 210:202,15[K ]| had been so kindly given ~~ but no more of this. She 210:202,16[K ]| has made me miserable for*ever! Let me soon hear from 210:202,17[K ]| you, dear Catherine; you are my only friend; \your\ love 210:202,18[K ]| I do build upon. I wish your visit at Northanger may 210:202,19[K ]| be over before Captain*Tilney makes his engagement 210:202,20[K ]| known, or you will be uncomfortably circumstanced. ~~ 210:202,21[K ]| Poor Thorpe is in town: I dread the sight of him; his 210:202,22[K ]| honest heart would feel so much. I have written to him 210:202,23[K ]| and my father. Her duplicity hurts me more than all; 210:202,24[K ]| till the very last, if I reasoned with her, she declared 210:202,25[K ]| herself as much attached to me as ever, and laughed at 210:202,26[K ]| my fears. I am ashamed to think how long I bore with 210:202,27[K ]| it; but if ever man had reason to believe himself loved, 210:202,28[K ]| I was that man. I cannot understand even now what 210:202,29[K ]| she would be at, for there could be no need of my being 210:202,30[K ]| played off to make her secure of Tilney. We parted at 210:202,31[K ]| last by mutual consent ~~ happy for me had we never 210:202,32[K ]| met! I can never expect to know such another woman! 210:202,33[K ]| Dearest Catherine, beware how you give your heart. 210:202,34[K ]| Believe me,"" 210:202,34[' ]| &c% 210:202,35[' ]| Catherine had not read three lines before her sudden 210:202,36[' ]| change of countenance, and short exclamations of sorrowing 210:202,37[' ]| wonder, declared her to be receiving unpleasant news; 210:203,01[' ]| and Henry, earnestly watching her through the whole 210:203,02[' ]| letter, saw plainly that it ended no better than it began. 210:203,03[' ]| He was prevented, however, from even looking his 210:203,04[' ]| surprize by his father's entrance. They went to breakfast 210:203,05[' ]| directly; but Catherine could hardly eat any*thing. 210:203,06[' ]| Tears filled her eyes, and even ran down her cheeks as she 210:203,07[' ]| sat. The letter was one moment in her hand, then in her 210:203,08[' ]| lap, and then in her pocket; and she looked as if she 210:203,09[' ]| knew not what she did. The General, between his cocoa 210:203,10[' ]| and his newspaper, had luckily no leisure for noticing her; 210:203,11[' ]| but to the other two her distress was equally visible. 210:203,12[' ]| As soon as she dared leave the table she hurried away 210:203,13[' ]| to her own room; but the house-maids were busy in it, 210:203,14[' ]| and she was obliged to come down again. She turned 210:203,15[' ]| into the drawing-room for privacy, but Henry and 210:203,16[' ]| Eleanor had likewise retreated thither, and were at that 210:203,17[' ]| moment deep in consultation about her. She drew back, 210:203,18[' ]| trying to beg their pardon, but was, with gentle violence, 210:203,19[' ]| forced to return; and the others withdrew, after Eleanor 210:203,20[' ]| had affectionately expressed a wish of being of use or 210:203,21[' ]| comfort to her. 210:203,22[' ]| After half an hour's free indulgence of grief and reflection, 210:203,23[' ]| Catherine felt equal to encountering her friends; 210:203,24[' ]| but whether she should make her distress known to them 210:203,25[' ]| was another consideration. 210:203,25@a | Perhaps, if particularly 210:203,26@a | questioned, she might just give an idea ~~ just distantly 210:203,27@a | hint at it ~~ but not more. To expose a friend, such 210:203,28@a | a friend as Isabella had been to her ~~ and then their own 210:203,29@a | brother so closely concerned in it! ~~ She believed she 210:203,30@a | must wave the subject altogether. 210:203,30[' ]| Henry and Eleanor 210:203,31[' ]| were by themselves in the breakfast-room; and each, 210:203,32[' ]| as she entered it, looked at her anxiously. Catherine 210:203,33[' ]| took her place at the table, and, after a short silence, 210:203,34[' ]| Eleanor said, 210:203,34[C ]| "No bad news from Fullerton, I hope? 210:203,35[C ]| Mr% and Mrs%*Morland ~~ your brothers and sisters ~~ I hope 210:203,36[C ]| they are none of them ill?" 210:203,37[A ]| "No, I thank you," 210:203,37[' ]| (sighing as she spoke,) 210:203,37[A ]| "they are 210:203,38[A ]| all very well. My letter was from my brother at Oxford." 210:204,01[' ]| Nothing further was said for a few minutes; and then 210:204,02[' ]| speaking through her tears, she added, 210:204,02[A ]| "I do not think 210:204,03[A ]| I shall ever wish for a letter again!" 210:204,04[B ]| "I am sorry," 210:204,04[' ]| said Henry, closing the book he had 210:204,05[' ]| just opened; 210:204,05[B ]| "if I had suspected the letter of containing 210:204,06[B ]| any*thing unwelcome, I should have given it with very 210:204,07[B ]| different feelings." 210:204,08[A ]| "It contained something worse than any*body could 210:204,09[A ]| suppose! ~~ Poor James is so unhappy! ~~ You will soon 210:204,10[A ]| know why." 210:204,11[B ]| "To have so kind-hearted, so affectionate a sister," 210:204,12[' ]| replied Henry, warmly, 210:204,12[B ]| "must be a comfort to him under 210:204,13[B ]| any distress." 210:204,14[A ]| "I have one favour to beg," 210:204,14[' ]| said Catherine, shortly 210:204,15[' ]| afterwards, in an agitated manner, 210:204,15[A ]| "that, if your brother 210:204,16[A ]| should be coming here, you will give me notice of it, that 210:204,17[A ]| I may go away." 210:204,18[B ]| "Our brother! ~~ Frederick!" 210:204,19[A ]| "Yes; I am sure I should be very sorry to leave you 210:204,20[A ]| so soon, but something has happened that would make it 210:204,21[A ]| very dreadful for me to be in the same house with Captain*Tilney." 210:204,22[A ]| 210:204,23[' ]| Eleanor's work was suspended while she gazed with 210:204,24[' ]| increasing astonishment; but Henry began to suspect 210:204,25[' ]| the truth, and something, in which Miss*Thorpe's name 210:204,26[' ]| was included, passed his lips. 210:204,27[A ]| "How quick you are!" 210:204,27[' ]| cried Catherine: 210:204,27[A ]| "you have 210:204,28[A ]| guessed it, I declare! ~~ And yet, when we talked about 210:204,29[A ]| it in Bath, you little thought of its ending so. Isabella ~~ 210:204,30[A ]| no wonder \now\ I have not heard from her ~~ Isabella has 210:204,31[A ]| deserted my brother, and is to marry your's! Could you 210:204,32[A ]| have believed there had been such inconstancy and 210:204,33[A ]| fickleness, and every*thing that is bad in the world?" 210:204,34[B ]| "I hope, so far as concerns my brother, you are misinformed. 210:204,35[B ]| I hope he has not had any material share in 210:204,36[B ]| bringing on Mr%*Morland's disappointment. His marrying 210:204,37[B ]| Miss*Thorpe is not probable. I think you must be 210:204,38[B ]| deceived so far. I am very sorry for Mr%*Morland ~~ 210:205,01[B ]| sorry that any*one you love should be unhappy; but my 210:205,02[B ]| surprize would be greater at Frederick's marrying her, 210:205,03[B ]| than at any other part of the story." 210:205,04[A ]| "It is very true, however; you shall read James's 210:205,05[A ]| letter yourself. ~~ Stay ~~ there is one part ~~" 210:205,05[' ]| recollecting 210:205,06[' ]| with a blush the last line. 210:205,07[B ]| "Will you take the trouble of reading to us the passages 210:205,08[B ]| which concern my brother?" 210:205,09[A ]| "No, read it yourself," 210:205,09[' ]| cried Catherine, whose second 210:205,10[' ]| thoughts were clearer. 210:205,10[A ]| "I do not know what I was 210:205,11[A ]| thinking of," 210:205,11[' ]| (blushing again that she had blushed 210:205,12[' ]| before,) 210:205,12[A ]| ~~ "James only means to give me good advice." 210:205,13[' ]| He gladly received the letter; and, having read it 210:205,14[' ]| through, with close attention, returned it saying, 210:205,14[B ]| "Well, 210:205,15[B ]| if it is to be so, I can only say that I am sorry for it. 210:205,16[B ]| Frederick will not be the first man who has chosen a wife 210:205,17[B ]| with less sense than his family expected. I do not envy 210:205,18[B ]| his situation, either as a lover or a son." 210:205,19[' ]| Miss*Tilney, at Catherine's invitation, now read the 210:205,20[' ]| letter likewise; and, having expressed also her concern 210:205,21[' ]| and surprize, began to inquire into Miss*Thorpe's connexions 210:205,22[' ]| and fortune. 210:205,23[A ]| "Her mother is a very good sort of woman," 210:205,23[' ]| was 210:205,24[' ]| Catherine's answer. 210:205,25[C ]| "What was her father?" 210:205,26[A ]| "A lawyer, I believe. ~~ They live at Putney." 210:205,27[C ]| "Are they a wealthy family?" 210:205,28[A ]| "No, not very. I do not believe Isabella has any 210:205,29[A ]| fortune at all: but that will not signify in your family. ~~ 210:205,30[A ]| Your father is so very liberal! He told me the other 210:205,31[A ]| day, that he only valued money as it allowed him to 210:205,32[A ]| promote the happiness of his children." 210:205,32[' ]| The brother 210:205,33[' ]| and sister looked at each other. 210:205,33[C ]| "But," 210:205,33[' ]| said Eleanor, 210:205,34[' ]| after a short pause, 210:205,34[C ]| "would it be to promote his happiness, 210:205,35[C ]| to enable him to marry such a girl? ~~ She must be an 210:205,36[C ]| unprincipled one, or she could not have used your brother 210:205,37[C ]| so. ~~ And how strange an infatuation on Frederick's 210:205,38[C ]| side! A girl who, before his eyes, is violating an engagement 210:206,01[C ]| voluntarily entered into with another man! Is 210:206,02[C ]| not it inconceivable, Henry? Frederick too, who always 210:206,03[C ]| wore his heart so proudly! who found no woman good 210:206,04[C ]| enough to be loved!" 210:206,05[B ]| "That is the most unpromising circumstance, the 210:206,06[B ]| strongest presumption against him. When I think of his 210:206,07[B ]| past declarations, I give him up. ~~ Moreover, I have too 210:206,08[B ]| good an opinion of Miss*Thorpe's prudence, to suppose 210:206,09[B ]| that she would part with one gentleman before the other 210:206,10[B ]| was secured. It is all over with Frederick indeed! He 210:206,11[B ]| is a deceased man ~~ defunct in understanding. Prepare 210:206,12[B ]| for your sister-in-law, Eleanor, and such a sister-in-law 210:206,13[B ]| as you must delight in! ~~ Open, candid, artless, guileless, 210:206,14[B ]| with affections strong but simple, forming no pretensions, 210:206,15[B ]| and knowing no disguise." 210:206,16[C ]| "Such a sister-in-law, Henry, I should delight in," 210:206,16[' ]| said 210:206,17[' ]| Eleanor, with a smile. 210:206,18[A ]| "But perhaps," 210:206,18[' ]| observed Catherine, 210:206,18[A ]| "though she has 210:206,19[A ]| behaved so ill by our family, she may behave better by 210:206,20[A ]| your's. Now she has really got the man she likes, she 210:206,21[A ]| may be constant." 210:206,22[B ]| "Indeed I am afraid she will," 210:206,22[' ]| replied Henry; 210:206,22[B ]| "I am 210:206,23[B ]| afraid she will be very constant, unless a baronet should 210:206,24[B ]| come in her way; that is Frederick's only chance. ~~ I will 210:206,25[B ]| get the Bath paper, and look over the arrivals." 210:206,26[A ]| "You think it is all for ambition then? ~~ And, upon 210:206,27[A ]| my word, there are some things that seem very like it. 210:206,28[A ]| I cannot forget, that, when she first knew what my 210:206,29[A ]| father would do for them, she seemed quite disappointed 210:206,30[A ]| that it was not more. I never was so deceived in any*one's 210:206,31[A ]| character in my life before." 210:206,32[B ]| "Among all the great variety that you have known 210:206,33[B ]| and studied." 210:206,34[A ]| "My own disappointment and loss in her is very great; 210:206,35[A ]| but, as for poor James, I suppose he will hardly ever 210:206,36[A ]| recover it." 210:206,37[B ]| "Your brother is certainly very much to be pitied at 210:206,38[B ]| present; but we must not, in our concern for his sufferings, 210:207,01[B ]| undervalue your's. You feel, I suppose, that, in 210:207,02[B ]| losing Isabella, you lose half yourself: you feel a void in 210:207,03[B ]| your heart which nothing else can occupy. Society is 210:207,04[B ]| becoming irksome; and as for the amusements in which 210:207,05[B ]| you were wont to share at Bath, the very idea of them 210:207,06[B ]| without her is abhorrent. You would not, for instance, 210:207,07[B ]| now go to a ball for the world. You feel that you have 210:207,08[B ]| no longer any friend to whom you can speak with unreserve; 210:207,09[B ]| on whose regard you can place dependence; or whose 210:207,10[B ]| counsel, in any difficulty, you could rely on. You feel 210:207,11[B ]| all this?" 210:207,12[A ]| "No," 210:207,12[' ]| said Catherine, after a few moments' reflection, 210:207,13[A ]| "I do not ~~ ought I? To say the truth, though I am 210:207,14[A ]| hurt and grieved, that I cannot still love her, that I am 210:207,15[A ]| never to hear from her, perhaps never to see her again, 210:207,16[A ]| I do not feel so very, very much afflicted as one would 210:207,17[A ]| have thought." 210:207,18[B ]| "You feel, as you always do, what is most to the 210:207,19[B ]| credit of human nature. ~~ Such feelings ought to be 210:207,20[B ]| investigated, that they may know themselves." 210:207,21[' ]| Catherine, by some chance or other, found her spirits 210:207,22[' ]| so very much relieved by this conversation, that she 210:207,23[' ]| could not regret her being led on, though so unaccountably, 210:207,24[' ]| to mention the circumstance which had produced it. 211:208,01[' ]| From this time, the subject was frequently canvassed 211:208,02[' ]| by the three young people; and Catherine found, with 211:208,03[' ]| some surprize, that her two young friends were perfectly 211:208,04[' ]| agreed in considering Isabella's want of consequence and 211:208,05[' ]| fortune as likely to throw great difficulties in the way 211:208,06[' ]| of her marrying their brother. Their persuasion that the 211:208,07[' ]| General would, upon this ground alone, independent of 211:208,08[' ]| the objection that might be raised against her character, 211:208,09[' ]| oppose the connexion, turned her feelings moreover with 211:208,10[' ]| some alarm towards herself. 211:208,10@a | She was as insignificant, 211:208,11@a | and perhaps as portionless as Isabella; and if the heir 211:208,12@a | of the Tilney property had not grandeur and wealth 211:208,13@a | enough in himself, at what point of interest were the 211:208,14@a | demands of his younger brother to rest? 211:208,14[' ]| The very 211:208,15[' ]| painful reflections to which this thought led, could only 211:208,16[' ]| be dispersed by a dependence on the effect of that particular 211:208,17[' ]| partiality, which, as she was given to understand 211:208,18[' ]| by his words as well as his actions, she had from the 211:208,19[' ]| first been so fortunate as to excite in the General; and 211:208,20[' ]| by a recollection of some most generous and disinterested 211:208,21[' ]| sentiments on the subject of money, which she had more 211:208,22[' ]| than once heard him utter, and which tempted her to 211:208,23[' ]| think his disposition in such matters misunderstood by 211:208,24[' ]| his children. 211:208,25[' ]| They were so fully convinced, however, that their 211:208,26[' ]| brother would not have the courage to apply in person 211:208,27[' ]| for his father's consent, and so repeatedly assured her 211:208,28[' ]| that he had never in his life been less likely to come to 211:208,29[' ]| Northanger than at the present time, that she suffered 211:208,30[' ]| her mind to be at ease as to the necessity of any sudden 211:208,31[' ]| removal of her own. But as it was not to be supposed 211:208,32[' ]| that Captain*Tilney, whenever he made his application, 211:208,33[' ]| would give his father any just idea of Isabella's conduct, 211:208,34[' ]| it occurred to her as highly expedient that Henry should 211:209,01[' ]| lay the whole business before him as it really was, enabling 211:209,02[' ]| the General by that means to form a cool and impartial 211:209,03[' ]| opinion, and prepare his objections on a fairer ground 211:209,04[' ]| than inequality of situations. She proposed it to him 211:209,05[' ]| accordingly; but he did not catch at the measure so 211:209,06[' ]| eagerly as she had expected. 211:209,06[B ]| "No," 211:209,06[' ]| said he, 211:209,06[B ]| "my 211:209,07[B ]| father's hands need not be strengthened, and Frederick's 211:209,08[B ]| confession of folly need not be forestalled. He must tell 211:209,09[B ]| his own story." 211:209,10[A ]| "But he will tell only half of it." 211:209,11[B ]| "A quarter would be enough." 211:209,12[' ]| A day or two passed away and brought no tidings of 211:209,13[' ]| Captain*Tilney. His brother and sister knew not what 211:209,14[' ]| to think. Sometimes it appeared to them as if his silence 211:209,15[' ]| would be the natural result of the suspected engagement, 211:209,16[' ]| and at others that it was wholly incompatible with it. 211:209,17[' ]| The General, meanwhile, though offended every morning 211:209,18[' ]| by Frederick's remissness in writing, was free from any 211:209,19[' ]| real anxiety about him; and had no more pressing 211:209,20[' ]| solicitude than that of making Miss*Morland's time at 211:209,21[' ]| Northanger pass pleasantly. He often expressed his 211:209,22[' ]| uneasiness on this head, 211:209,22@f | feared the sameness of every 211:209,23@f | day's society and employments would disgust her with 211:209,24@f | the place, wished the Lady*Frasers had been in the 211:209,25@f | country, talked every now and then of having a large 211:209,26@f | party to dinner, and once or twice began even to calculate 211:209,27@f | the number of young dancing people in the neighbourhood. 211:209,28@f | But then it was such a dead time of year, no 211:209,29@f | wild-fowl, no game, and the Lady*Frasers were not in the 211:209,30@f | country. 211:209,30[' ]| And it all ended, at last, in his telling Henry 211:209,31[' ]| one morning, that 211:209,31@f | when he next went to Woodston, they 211:209,32@f | would take him by surprize there some day or other, and 211:209,33@f | eat their mutton with him. 211:209,33[' ]| Henry was greatly honoured 211:209,34[' ]| and very happy, and Catherine was quite delighted with 211:209,35[' ]| the scheme. 211:209,35[B ]| "And when do you think, sir, I may look 211:209,36[B ]| forward to this pleasure? ~~ I must be at Woodston on 211:209,37[B ]| Monday to attend the parish meeting, and shall probably 211:209,38[B ]| be obliged to stay two or three days." 211:210,01[F ]| "Well, well, we will take our chance some one of those 211:210,02[F ]| days. There is no need to fix. You are not to put 211:210,03[F ]| yourself at all out of your way. Whatever you may 211:210,04[F ]| happen to have in the house will be enough. I think 211:210,05[F ]| I can answer for the young ladies making allowance for 211:210,06[F ]| a bachelor's table. Let me see; Monday will be a busy 211:210,07[F ]| day with you, we will not come on Monday; and Tuesday 211:210,08[F ]| will be a busy one with me. I expect my surveyor from 211:210,09[F ]| Brockham with his report in the morning; and afterwards 211:210,10[F ]| I cannot in decency fail attending the club. I really 211:210,11[F ]| could not face my acquaintance if I staid away now; 211:210,12[F ]| for, as I am known to be in the country, it would be taken 211:210,13[F ]| exceedingly amiss; and it is a rule with me, Miss*Morland, 211:210,14[F ]| never to give offence to any of my neighbours, if a small 211:210,15[F ]| sacrifice of time and attention can prevent it. They are 211:210,16[F ]| a set of very worthy men. They have half a buck from 211:210,17[F ]| Northanger twice a year; and I dine with them whenever 211:210,18[F ]| I can. Tuesday, therefore, we may say is out of the 211:210,19[F ]| question. But on Wednesday, I think, Henry, you may 211:210,20[F ]| expect us; and we shall be with you early, that we may 211:210,21[F ]| have time to look about us. Two hours and three 211:210,22[F ]| quarters will carry us to Woodston, I suppose; we shall 211:210,23[F ]| be in the carriage by ten; so, about a quarter before one 211:210,24[F ]| on Wednesday, you may look for us." 211:210,25[' ]| A ball itself could not have been more welcome to 211:210,26[' ]| Catherine than this little excursion, so strong was her 211:210,27[' ]| desire to be acquainted with Woodston; and her heart 211:210,28[' ]| was still bounding with joy, when Henry, about an hour 211:210,29[' ]| afterwards, came booted and great coated into the room 211:210,30[' ]| where she and Eleanor were sitting, and said, 211:210,30[B ]| "I am 211:210,31[B ]| come, young ladies, in a very moralizing strain, to observe 211:210,32[B ]| that our pleasures in this world are always to be paid for, 211:210,33[B ]| and that we often purchase them at a great disadvantage, 211:210,34[B ]| giving ready-monied actual happiness for a draft on the 211:210,35[B ]| future, that may not be honoured. Witness myself, 211:210,36[B ]| at this present hour. Because I am to hope for 211:210,37[B ]| the satisfaction of seeing you at Woodston in Wednesday, 211:210,38[B ]| which bad weather, or twenty other causes may 211:211,01[B ]| prevent, I must go away directly, two days before 211:211,02[B ]| I intended it." 211:211,03[A ]| "Go away!" 211:211,03[' ]| said Catherine, with a very long face; 211:211,04[A ]| "and why?" 211:211,05[B ]| "Why! ~~ How can you ask the question? ~~ Because 211:211,06[B ]| no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper 211:211,07[B ]| out of her wits, ~~ because I must go and prepare a dinner 211:211,08[B ]| for you to be sure." 211:211,09[A ]| "Oh! not seriously!" 211:211,10[B ]| "Aye, and sadly too ~~ for I had much rather stay." 211:211,11[A ]| "But how can you think of such a thing, after what 211:211,12[A ]| the General said? when he so particularly desired you not 211:211,13[A ]| to give yourself any trouble, because \any*thing\ would do." 211:211,14[' ]| Henry only smiled. 211:211,14[A ]| "I am sure it is quite unnecessary 211:211,15[A ]| upon your sister's account and mine. You must know 211:211,16[A ]| it to be so; and the General made such a point of your 211:211,17[A ]| providing nothing extraordinary: ~~ besides, if he had not 211:211,18[A ]| said half so much as he did, he has always such an excellent 211:211,19[A ]| dinner at home, that sitting down to a middling one for 211:211,20[A ]| one day could not signify." 211:211,21[B ]| "I wish I could reason like you, for his sake and my 211:211,22[B ]| own. Good*bye. As to-morrow is Sunday, Eleanor, 211:211,23[B ]| I shall not return." 211:211,24[' ]| He went; and, it being at any time a much simpler 211:211,25[' ]| operation to Catherine to doubt her own judgment than 211:211,26[' ]| Henry's, she was very soon obliged to give him credit 211:211,27[' ]| for being right, however disagreeable to her his going. 211:211,28[' ]| But the inexplicability of the General's conduct dwelt 211:211,29[' ]| much on her thoughts. That he was very particular in 211:211,30[' ]| his eating, she had, by her own unassisted observation, 211:211,31[' ]| already discovered; 211:211,31@a | but why he should say one thing so 211:211,32@a | positively, and mean another all the while, was most 211:211,33@a | unaccountable! How were people, at that rate, to be 211:211,34@a | understood? Who but Henry could have been aware of 211:211,35@a | what his father was at? 211:211,36[' ]| From Saturday to Wednesday, however, they were now 211:211,37[' ]| to be without Henry. 211:211,37[' ]| This was the sad finale of every 211:211,38[' ]| reflection: ~~ 211:211,38@a | and Captain*Tilney's letter would certainly 211:212,01@a | come in his absence; and Wednesday she was very sure 211:212,02@a | would be wet. The past, present, and future, were all 211:212,03@a | equally in gloom. Her brother so unhappy, and her loss 211:212,04@a | in Isabella so great; and Eleanor's spirits always affected 211:212,05@a | by Henry's absence! What was there to interest or 211:212,06@a | amuse her? She was tired of the woods and the shrubberies ~~ 211:212,07@a | always so smooth and so dry; and the Abbey in 211:212,08@a | itself was no more to her now than any other house. 211:212,09[' ]| The painful remembrance of the folly it had helped to 211:212,10[' ]| nourish and perfect, was the only emotion which could 211:212,11[' ]| spring from a consideration of the building. What a 211:212,12[' ]| revolution in her ideas! she, who had so longed to be 211:212,13[' ]| in an abbey! Now, there was nothing so charming to her 211:212,14[' ]| imagination as the unpretending comfort of a well-connected 211:212,15[' ]| Parsonage, something like Fullerton, but better: 211:212,16@a | Fullerton had its faults, but Woodston probably had 211:212,17@a | none. ~~ If Wednesday should ever come! 211:212,18[' ]| It did come, and exactly when it might be reasonably 211:212,19[' ]| looked for. It came ~~ it was fine ~~ and Catherine trod 211:212,20[' ]| on air. By ten o'clock, the chaise-and-four conveyed 211:212,21[' ]| the trio from the Abbey; and, after an agreeable drive 211:212,22[' ]| of almost twenty miles, they entered Woodston, a large 211:212,23[' ]| and populous village, in a situation not unpleasant. 211:212,24[' ]| Catherine was ashamed to say how pretty she thought it, 211:212,25[' ]| as the General seemed to think an apology necessary for 211:212,26[' ]| the flatness of the country, and the size of the village; 211:212,27[' ]| but in her heart she preferred it to any place she had 211:212,28[' ]| ever been at, and looked with great admiration at 211:212,29[' ]| every neat house above the rank of a cottage, and at 211:212,30[' ]| all the little chandler's shops which they passed. At the 211:212,31[' ]| further end of the village, and tolerably disengaged from 211:212,32[' ]| the rest of it, stood the Parsonage, a new-built substantial 211:212,33[' ]| stone house, with its semi-circular sweep and green gates; 211:212,34[' ]| and, as they drove up to the door, Henry, with the friends 211:212,35[' ]| of his solitude, a large Newfoundland puppy and two or 211:212,36[' ]| three terriers, was ready to receive and make much of 211:212,37[' ]| them. 211:212,38[' ]| Catherine's mind was too full, as she entered the house, 211:213,01[' ]| for her either to observe or to say a great deal; and, till 211:213,02[' ]| called on by the General for her opinion of it, she had 211:213,03[' ]| very little idea of the room in which she was sitting. 211:213,04[' ]| Upon looking round it then, she perceived in a moment 211:213,05[' ]| that it was the most comfortable room in the world; but 211:213,06[' ]| she was too guarded to say so, and the coldness of her 211:213,07[' ]| praise disappointed him. 211:213,08[F ]| "We are not calling it a good house," 211:213,08[' ]| said he. ~~ 211:213,08[F ]| "We 211:213,09[F ]| are not comparing it with Fullerton and Northanger ~~ 211:213,10[F ]| We are considering it as a mere Parsonage, small and 211:213,11[F ]| confined, we allow, but decent perhaps, and habitable; 211:213,12[F ]| and altogether not inferior to the generality; ~~ or, in 211:213,13[F ]| other words, I believe there are few country parsonages 211:213,14[F ]| in England half so good. It may admit of improvement, 211:213,15[F ]| however. Far be it from me to say otherwise; and any*thing 211:213,16[F ]| in reason ~~ a bow thrown out, perhaps ~~ though, 211:213,17[F ]| between ourselves, if there is one thing more than another 211:213,18[F ]| my aversion, it is a patched-on bow." 211:213,19[' ]| Catherine did not hear enough of this speech to understand 211:213,20[' ]| or be pained by it; and other subjects being 211:213,21[' ]| studiously brought forward and supported by Henry, 211:213,22[' ]| at the same time that a tray full of refreshments was 211:213,23[' ]| introduced by his servant, the General was shortly 211:213,24[' ]| restored to his complacency, and Catherine to all her 211:213,25[' ]| usual ease of spirits. 211:213,26[' ]| The room in question was of a commodious, well-proportioned 211:213,27[' ]| size, and handsomely fitted up as a dining*parlour; 211:213,28[' ]| and on their quitting it to walk round the 211:213,29[' ]| grounds, she was shewn, first into a smaller apartment, 211:213,30[' ]| belonging peculiarly to the master of the house, and made 211:213,31[' ]| unusually tidy on the occasion; and afterwards into 211:213,32[' ]| what was to be the drawing-room, with the appearance of 211:213,33[' ]| which, though unfurnished, Catherine was delighted 211:213,34[' ]| enough even to satisfy the General. It was a prettily-shaped 211:213,35[' ]| room, the windows reaching to the ground, and 211:213,36[' ]| the view from them pleasant, though only over green 211:213,37[' ]| meadows; and she expressed her admiration at the 211:213,38[' ]| moment with all the honest simplicity with which she 211:214,01[' ]| felt it. 211:214,01[A ]| "Oh! why do not you fit up this room, Mr%*Tilney? 211:214,02[A ]| What a pity not to have it fitted up! It is 211:214,03[A ]| the prettiest room I ever saw; ~~ it is the prettiest room 211:214,04[A ]| in the world!" 211:214,05[F ]| "I trust," 211:214,05[' ]| said the General, with a most satisfied smile, 211:214,06[F ]| "that it will very speedily be furnished: it waits only 211:214,07[F ]| for a lady's taste!" 211:214,08[A ]| "Well, if it was my house, I should never sit any*where 211:214,09[A ]| else. Oh! what a sweet little cottage there is among the 211:214,10[A ]| trees ~~ apple trees too! It is the prettiest cottage!" ~~ 211:214,11[F ]| "You like it ~~ you approve it as an object; ~~ it is 211:214,12[F ]| enough. Henry, remember that Robinson is spoken to 211:214,13[F ]| about it. The cottage remains." 211:214,14[' ]| Such a compliment recalled all Catherine's consciousness, 211:214,15[' ]| and silenced her directly; and, though pointedly 211:214,16[' ]| applied to by the General for her choice of the prevailing 211:214,17[' ]| colour of the paper and hangings, nothing like an opinion 211:214,18[' ]| on the subject could be drawn from her. The influence 211:214,19[' ]| of fresh objects and fresh air, however, was of great use 211:214,20[' ]| in dissipating these embarrassing associations; and, 211:214,21[' ]| having reached the ornamental part of the premises, 211:214,22[' ]| consisting of a walk round two sides of a meadow, on which 211:214,23[' ]| Henry's genius had begun to act about half a year ago, 211:214,24[' ]| she was sufficiently recovered to think it prettier than 211:214,25[' ]| any pleasure-ground she had ever been in before, though 211:214,26[' ]| there was not a shrub in it higher than the green bench 211:214,27[' ]| in the corner. 211:214,28[' ]| A saunter into other meadows, and through part of the 211:214,29[' ]| village, with a visit to the stables to examine some 211:214,30[' ]| improvements, and a charming game of play with a litter 211:214,31[' ]| of puppies just able to roll about, brought them to four 211:214,32[' ]| o'clock, when Catherine scarcely thought it could be 211:214,33[' ]| three. At four they were to dine, and at six to set off on 211:214,34[' ]| their return. Never had any day passed so quickly! 211:214,35[' ]| She could not but observe that the abundance of the 211:214,36[' ]| dinner did not seem to create the smallest astonishment 211:214,37[' ]| in the General; nay, that he was even looking at the 211:214,38[' ]| side-table for cold meat which was not there. His son 211:215,01[' ]| and daughter's observations were of a different kind. 211:215,02[' ]| They had seldom seen him eat so heartily at any table 211:215,03[' ]| but his own; and never before known him so little disconcerted 211:215,04[' ]| by the melted butter's being oiled. 211:215,05[' ]| At six o'clock, the General having taken his coffee, 211:215,06[' ]| the carriage again received them; and so gratifying had 211:215,07[' ]| been the tenor of his conduct throughout the whole visit, 211:215,08[' ]| so well assured was her mind on the subject of his expectations, 211:215,09[' ]| that, could she have felt equally confident of the 211:215,10[' ]| wishes of his son, Catherine would have quitted Woodston 211:215,11[' ]| with little anxiety as to the How or the When she might 211:215,12[' ]| return to it. 212:216,01[' ]| The next morning brought the following very unexpected 212:216,02[' ]| letter from Isabella: ~~ 212:216,03[D ]| \Bath, April ****\ 212:216,04[D ]| My dearest Catherine, 212:216,05[D ]| I received your two kind letters with the greatest 212:216,06[D ]| delight, and have a thousand apologies to make for not 212:216,07[D ]| answering them sooner. I really am quite ashamed of 212:216,08[D ]| my idleness; but in this horrid place one can find time 212:216,09[D ]| for nothing. I have had my pen in my hand to begin 212:216,10[D ]| a letter to you almost every day since you left Bath, but 212:216,11[D ]| have always been prevented by some silly trifler or other. 212:216,12[D ]| Pray write to me soon, and direct to my own home. 212:216,13[D ]| Thank God! we leave this vile place to-morrow. Since 212:216,14[D ]| you went away, I have had no pleasure in it ~~ the dust is 212:216,15[D ]| beyond any*thing; and every*body one cares for is gone. 212:216,16[D ]| I believe if I could see you I should not mind the rest, 212:216,17[D ]| for you are dearer to me than any*body can conceive. 212:216,18[D ]| I am quite uneasy about your dear brother, not having 212:216,19[D ]| heard from him since he went to Oxford; and am fearful 212:216,20[D ]| of some misunderstanding. Your kind offices will set all 212:216,21[D ]| right: ~~ he is the only man I ever did or could love, and 212:216,22[D ]| I trust you will convince him of it. The spring fashions 212:216,23[D ]| are partly down; and the hats the most frightful you can 212:216,24[D ]| imagine. I hope you spend your time pleasantly, but am 212:216,25[D ]| afraid you never think of me. I will not say all that 212:216,26[D ]| I could of the family you are with, because I would not 212:216,27[D ]| be ungenerous, or set you against those you esteem; 212:216,28[D ]| but it is very difficult to know whom to trust, and young 212:216,29[D ]| men never know their minds two days together. I rejoice 212:216,30[D ]| to say, that the young man whom, of all others, I particularly 212:216,31[D ]| abhor, has left Bath. You will know, from this 212:216,32[D ]| description, I must mean Captain*Tilney, who, as you 212:217,01[D ]| may remember, was amazingly disposed to follow and 212:217,02[D ]| tease me, before you went away. Afterwards he got 212:217,03[D ]| worse, and became quite my shadow. Many girls might 212:217,04[D ]| have been taken in, for never were such attentions; but 212:217,05[D ]| I knew the fickle sex too well. He went away to his 212:217,06[D ]| regiment two days ago, and I trust I shall never be 212:217,07[D ]| plagued with him again. He is the greatest coxcomb I 212:217,08[D ]| ever saw, and amazingly disagreeable. The last two 212:217,09[D ]| days he was always by the side of Charlotte*Davis: 212:217,10[D ]| I pitied his taste, but took no notice of him. The last 212:217,11[D ]| time we met was in Bath-street, and I turned directly 212:217,12[D ]| into a shop that he might not speak to me; ~~ I would 212:217,13[D ]| not even look at him. He went into the Pump-room 212:217,14[D ]| afterwards; but I would not have followed him for all 212:217,15[D ]| the world. Such a contrast between him and your 212:217,16[D ]| brother! ~~ pray send me some news of the latter ~~ I am 212:217,17[D ]| quite unhappy about him, he seemed so uncomfortable 212:217,18[D ]| when he went away, with a cold, or something that 212:217,19[D ]| affected his spirits. I would write to him myself, but 212:217,20[D ]| have mislaid his direction; and, as I hinted above, am 212:217,21[D ]| afraid he took something in my conduct amiss. Pray 212:217,22[D ]| explain every*thing to his satisfaction; or, if he still 212:217,23[D ]| harbours any doubt, a line from himself to me, or a call 212:217,24[D ]| at Putney when next in town, might set all to rights. 212:217,25[D ]| I have not been to the Rooms this age, nor to the Play, 212:217,26[D ]| except going in last night with the Hodges's, for a frolic, 212:217,27[D ]| at half-price: they teased me into it; and I was determined 212:217,28[D ]| they should not say I shut myself up because 212:217,29[D ]| Tilney was gone. We happened to sit by the Mitchells, 212:217,30[D ]| and they pretended to be quite surprized to see me out. 212:217,31[D ]| I knew their spite: ~~ at one time they could not be civil 212:217,32[D ]| to me, but now they are all friendship; but I am not 212:217,33[D ]| such a fool as to be taken in by them. You know I have 212:217,34[D ]| a pretty good spirit of my own. Anne*Mitchell had tried 212:217,35[D ]| to put on a turban like mine, as I wore it the week before 212:217,36[D ]| at the Concert, but made wretched work of it ~~ it happened 212:217,37[D ]| to become my odd face I believe, at least Tilney told me 212:217,38[D ]| so at the time, and said every eye was upon me; but he 212:218,01[D ]| is the last man whose word I would take. I wear nothing 212:218,02[D ]| but purple now: I know I look hideous in it, but no 212:218,03[D ]| matter ~~ it is your dear brother's favourite colour. Lose 212:218,04[D ]| no time, my dearest, sweetest Catherine, in writing to 212:218,05[D ]| him and to me, 212:218,06[D ]| Who ever am, 212:218,06[' ]| &c% 212:218,07[' ]| Such a strain of shallow artifice could not impose even 212:218,08[' ]| upon Catherine. Its inconsistencies, contradictions, and 212:218,09[' ]| falsehood, struck her from the very first. She was 212:218,10[' ]| ashamed of Isabella, and ashamed of having ever loved 212:218,11[' ]| her. Her professions of attachment were now as disgusting 212:218,12[' ]| as her excuses were empty, and her demands 212:218,13[' ]| impudent. 212:218,13@a | "Write to James on her behalf! ~~ No, 212:218,14@a | James should never hear Isabella's name mentioned by 212:218,15@a | her again." 212:218,16[' ]| On Henry's arrival from Woodston, she made known 212:218,17[' ]| to him and Eleanor their brother's safety, congratulating 212:218,18[' ]| them with sincerity on it, and reading aloud the most 212:218,19[' ]| material passages of her letter with strong indignation. 212:218,20[' ]| When she had finished it, ~~ 212:218,20[A ]| "So much for Isabella," 212:218,20[' ]| she 212:218,21[' ]| cried, 212:218,21[A ]| "and for all our intimacy! She must think me 212:218,22[A ]| an idiot, or she could not have written so; but perhaps 212:218,23[A ]| this has served to make her character better known to 212:218,24[A ]| me than mine is to her. I see what she has been about. 212:218,25[A ]| She is a vain coquette, and her tricks have not answered. 212:218,26[A ]| I do not believe she had ever any regard either for James 212:218,27[A ]| or for me, and I wish I had never known her." 212:218,28[B ]| "It will soon be as if you never had," 212:218,28[' ]| said Henry. 212:218,29[A ]| "There is but one thing that I cannot understand. 212:218,30[A ]| I see that she has had designs on Captain*Tilney, which 212:218,31[A ]| have not succeeded; but I do not understand what 212:218,32[A ]| Captain*Tilney has been about all this time. Why should 212:218,33[A ]| he pay her such attentions as to make her quarrel with 212:218,34[A ]| my brother, and then fly off himself?" 212:218,35[B ]| "I have very little to say for Frederick's motives, such 212:218,36[B ]| as I believe them to have been. He has his vanities as 212:218,37[B ]| well as Miss*Thorpe, and the chief difference is, that, 212:219,01[B ]| having a stronger head, they have not yet injured himself. 212:219,02[B ]| If the \effect\ of his behaviour does not justify him with you, 212:219,03[B ]| we had better not seek after the cause." 212:219,04[A ]| "Then you do not suppose he ever really cared about 212:219,05[A ]| her?" 212:219,06[B ]| "I am persuaded that he never did." 212:219,07[A ]| "And only made believe to do so for mischief's sake?" 212:219,08[' ]| Henry bowed his assent. 212:219,09[A ]| "Well, then, I must say that I do not like him at all. 212:219,10[A ]| Though it has turned out so well for us, I do not like him 212:219,11[A ]| at all. As it happens, there is no great harm done, 212:219,12[A ]| because I do not think Isabella has any heart to lose. 212:219,13[A ]| But, suppose he had made her very much in love with 212:219,14[A ]| him?" 212:219,15[B ]| "But we must first suppose Isabella to have had 212:219,16[B ]| a heart to lose, ~~ consequently to have been a very 212:219,17[B ]| different creature; and, in that case, she would have 212:219,18[B ]| met with very different treatment." 212:219,19[A ]| "It is very right that you should stand by your 212:219,20[A ]| brother." 212:219,21[B ]| "And if you would stand by \your's\, you would not be 212:219,22[B ]| much distressed by the disappointment of Miss*Thorpe. 212:219,23[B ]| But your mind is warped by an innate principle of general 212:219,24[B ]| integrity, and therefore not accessible to the cool reasonings 212:219,25[B ]| of family partiality, or a desire of revenge." 212:219,26[' ]| Catherine was complimented out of further bitterness. 212:219,27[' ]| Frederick could not be unpardonably guilty, while Henry 212:219,28[' ]| made himself so agreeable. She resolved on not answering 212:219,29[' ]| Isabella's letter; and tried to think no more of it. 213:220,01[' ]| Soon after this, the General found himself obliged to 213:220,02[' ]| go to London for a week; and he left Northanger 213:220,02@f | earnestly 213:220,03@f | regretting that any necessity should rob him even for an 213:220,04@f | hour of Miss*Morland's company, and anxiously recommending 213:220,05@f | the study of her comfort and amusement to his 213:220,06@f | children as their chief object in his absence. 213:220,06[' ]| His departure 213:220,07[' ]| gave Catherine the first experimental conviction that 213:220,08[' ]| a loss may be sometimes a gain. The happiness with 213:220,09[' ]| which their time now passed, every employment voluntary, 213:220,10[' ]| every laugh indulged, every meal a scene of ease 213:220,11[' ]| and good-humour, walking where they liked and when 213:220,12[' ]| they liked, their hours, pleasures and fatigues at their 213:220,13[' ]| own command, made her thoroughly sensible of the 213:220,14[' ]| restraint which the General's presence had imposed, and 213:220,15[' ]| most thankfully feel their present release from it. Such 213:220,16[' ]| ease and such delights made her love the place and the 213:220,17[' ]| people more and more every day; and had it not been 213:220,18[' ]| for a dread of its soon becoming expedient to leave the 213:220,19[' ]| one, and an apprehension of not being equally beloved 213:220,20[' ]| by the other, she would at each moment of each day 213:220,21[' ]| have been perfectly happy; but she was now in the fourth 213:220,22[' ]| week of her visit; before the General came home, the 213:220,23[' ]| fourth week would be turned, and perhaps it might seem 213:220,24[' ]| an intrusion if she staid much longer. This was a painful 213:220,25[' ]| consideration whenever it occurred; and eager to get rid 213:220,26[' ]| of such a weight on her mind, she very soon resolved to 213:220,27[' ]| speak to Eleanor about it at once, propose going away, 213:220,28[' ]| and be guided in her conduct by the manner in which her 213:220,29[' ]| proposal might be taken. 213:220,30[' ]| Aware that if she gave herself much time, she might 213:220,31[' ]| feel it difficult to bring forward so unpleasant a subject, 213:220,32[' ]| she took the first opportunity of being suddenly alone 213:220,33[' ]| with Eleanor, and of Eleanor's being in the middle of 213:221,01[' ]| a speech about something very different, to start forth 213:221,02[' ]| her obligation of going away very soon. Eleanor looked 213:221,03[' ]| and declared herself much concerned. She had 213:221,03[C ]| "hoped 213:221,04[C ]| for the pleasure of her company for a much longer time ~~ 213:221,05[C ]| had been misled (perhaps by her wishes) to suppose that 213:221,06[C ]| a much longer visit had been promised ~~ and could not 213:221,07[C ]| but think that if Mr% and Mrs%*Morland were aware of the 213:221,08[C ]| pleasure it was to her to have her there, they would be 213:221,09[C ]| too generous to hasten her return." ~~ 213:221,09[' ]| Catherine explained. 213:221,10[A ]| ~~ "Oh! as to \that\, papa and mamma were in no hurry 213:221,11[A ]| at all. As long as she was happy, they would always be 213:221,12[A ]| satisfied." 213:221,13[C ]| "Then why, might she ask, in such a hurry herself to 213:221,14[C ]| leave them?" 213:221,15[A ]| "Oh! because she had been there so long." 213:221,16[C ]| "Nay, if you can use such a word, I can urge you no 213:221,17[C ]| farther. If you think it long ~" 213:221,18[A ]| "Oh! no, I do not indeed. For my own pleasure, 213:221,19[A ]| I could stay with you as long again." 213:221,19[' ]| ~~ And it was directly 213:221,20[' ]| settled that, till she had, her leaving them was not even 213:221,21[' ]| to be thought of. In having this cause of uneasiness so 213:221,22[' ]| pleasantly removed, the force of the other was likewise 213:221,23[' ]| weakened. The kindness, the earnestness of Eleanor's 213:221,24[' ]| manner in pressing her to stay, and Henry's gratified 213:221,25[' ]| look on being told that her stay was determined, were 213:221,26[' ]| such sweet proofs of her importance with them, as left 213:221,27[' ]| her only just so much solicitude as the human mind can 213:221,28[' ]| never do comfortably without. She did ~~ almost always 213:221,29[' ]| ~~ believe that Henry loved her, and quite always that 213:221,30[' ]| his father and sister loved and even wished her to belong 213:221,31[' ]| to them; and believing so far, her doubts and anxieties 213:221,32[' ]| were merely sportive irritations. 213:221,33[' ]| Henry was not able to obey his father's injunction of 213:221,34[' ]| remaining wholly at Northanger in attendance on the 213:221,35[' ]| ladies, during his absence in London; the engagements 213:221,36[' ]| of his curate at Woodston obliging him to leave them on 213:221,37[' ]| Saturday for a couple of nights. His loss was not now 213:221,38[' ]| what it had been while the General was at home; it 213:222,01[' ]| lessened their gaiety, but did not ruin their comfort; 213:222,02[' ]| and the two girls agreeing in occupation, and improving 213:222,03[' ]| in intimacy, found themselves so well-sufficient for the 213:222,04[' ]| time to themselves, that it was eleven o'clock, rather 213:222,05[' ]| a late hour at the Abbey, before they quitted the supper-room 213:222,06[' ]| on the day of Henry's departure. They had just 213:222,07[' ]| reached the head of the stairs, when it seemed, as far as 213:222,08[' ]| the thickness of the walls would allow them to judge, 213:222,09[' ]| that a carriage was driving up to the door, and the next 213:222,10[' ]| moment confirmed the idea by the loud noise of the 213:222,11[' ]| house-bell. After the first perturbation of surprize had 213:222,12[' ]| passed away, in a 213:222,12[C ]| "Good Heaven! what can be the 213:222,13[C ]| matter?" 213:222,13[' ]| it was quickly decided by Eleanor to be 213:222,14[' ]| her eldest brother, whose arrival was often as sudden, 213:222,15[' ]| if not quite so unseasonable, and accordingly she hurried 213:222,16[' ]| down to welcome him. 213:222,17[' ]| Catherine walked on to her chamber, making up her 213:222,18[' ]| mind as well as she could, to a further acquaintance with 213:222,19[' ]| Captain*Tilney, and comforting herself under the unpleasant 213:222,20[' ]| impression his conduct had given her, and the 213:222,21[' ]| persuasion of his being by far too fine a gentleman to 213:222,22[' ]| approve of her, that 213:222,22@a | at least they should not meet under 213:222,23@a | such circumstances as would make their meeting materially 213:222,24@a | painful. She trusted he would never speak of Miss*Thorpe; 213:222,25@a | and indeed, as he must by this time be ashamed 213:222,26@a | of the part he had acted, there could be no danger of it; 213:222,27@a | and as long as all mention of Bath scenes were avoided, 213:222,28@a | she thought she could behave to him very civilly. 213:222,28[' ]| In 213:222,29[' ]| such considerations time passed away, 213:222,29@a | and it was certainly 213:222,30@a | in his favour that Eleanor should be so glad to 213:222,31@a | see him, and have so much to say, for half an hour was 213:222,32@a | almost gone since his arrival, and Eleanor did not come up. 213:222,33[' ]| At that moment Catherine thought she heard her step 213:222,34[' ]| in the gallery, and listened for its continuance; but all 213:222,35[' ]| was silent. Scarcely, however, had she convicted her 213:222,36[' ]| fancy of error, when the noise of something moving close 213:222,37[' ]| to her door made her start; it seemed as if some*one was 213:222,38[' ]| touching the very doorway ~~ and in another moment 213:223,01[' ]| a slight motion of the lock proved that some hand must 213:223,02[' ]| be on it. She trembled a little at the idea of any*one's 213:223,03[' ]| approaching so cautiously; but resolving not to be again 213:223,04[' ]| overcome by trivial appearances of alarm, or misled by 213:223,05[' ]| a raised imagination, she stepped quietly forward, and 213:223,06[' ]| opened the door. Eleanor, and only Eleanor, stood there. 213:223,07[' ]| Catherine's spirits however were tranquillized but for an 213:223,08[' ]| instant, for Eleanor's cheeks were pale, and her manner 213:223,09[' ]| greatly agitated. Though evidently intending to come 213:223,10[' ]| in, it seemed an effort to enter the room, and a still 213:223,11[' ]| greater to speak when there. Catherine, supposing some 213:223,12[' ]| uneasiness on Captain*Tilney's account, could only express 213:223,13[' ]| her concern by silent attention; obliged her to be seated, 213:223,14[' ]| rubbed her temples with lavender-water, and hung over 213:223,15[' ]| her with affectionate solicitude. 213:223,15[C ]| "My dear Catherine, 213:223,16[C ]| you must not ~~ you must not indeed" ~~ 213:223,16[' ]| were Eleanor's 213:223,17[' ]| first connected words. 213:223,17[C ]| "I am quite well. This kindness 213:223,18[C ]| distracts me ~~ I cannot bear it ~~ I come to you on such an 213:223,19[C ]| errand!" 213:223,20[A ]| "Errand! ~~ to me!" 213:223,21[C ]| "How shall I tell you! ~~ Oh! how shall I tell you!" 213:223,22[' ]| A new idea now darted into Catherine's mind, and 213:223,23[' ]| turning as pale as her friend, she exclaimed, 213:223,23[A ]| "'Tis a messenger 213:223,24[A ]| from Woodston!" 213:223,25[C ]| "You are mistaken, indeed," 213:223,25[' ]| returned Eleanor, looking 213:223,26[' ]| at her most compassionately ~~ 213:223,26[C ]| "it is no*one from Woodston. 213:223,27[C ]| It is my father himself." 213:223,27[' ]| Her voice faltered, and 213:223,28[' ]| her eyes were turned to the ground as she mentioned his 213:223,29[' ]| name. His unlooked-for return was enough in itself to 213:223,30[' ]| make Catherine's heart sink, and for a few moments she 213:223,31[' ]| hardly supposed there were any*thing worse to be told. 213:223,32[' ]| She said nothing; and Eleanor endeavouring to collect 213:223,33[' ]| herself and speak with firmness, but with eyes still cast 213:223,34[' ]| down, soon went on. 213:223,34[C ]| "You are too good, I am sure, 213:223,35[C ]| to think the worse of me for the part I am obliged to 213:223,36[C ]| perform. I am indeed a most unwilling messenger. 213:223,37[C ]| After what has so lately passed, so lately been settled 213:223,38[C ]| between us ~~ how joyfully, how thankfully on my side! ~~ 213:224,01[C ]| as to your continuing here as I hoped for many, many 213:224,02[C ]| weeks longer, how can I tell you that your kindness is not 213:224,03[C ]| to be accepted ~~ and that the happiness your company 213:224,04[C ]| has hitherto given us is to be repaid by ~~ but I must 213:224,05[C ]| not trust myself with words. My dear Catherine, we are 213:224,06[C ]| to part. My father has recollected an engagement that 213:224,07[C ]| takes our whole family away on Monday. We are going 213:224,08[C ]| to Lord*Longtown's, near Hereford, for a fortnight. 213:224,09[C ]| Explanation and apology are equally impossible. I cannot 213:224,10[C ]| attempt either." 213:224,11[A ]| "My dear Eleanor," 213:224,11[' ]| cried Catherine, suppressing her 213:224,12[' ]| feelings as well as she could, 213:224,12[A ]| "do not be so distressed. 213:224,13[A ]| A second engagement must give way to a first. I am 213:224,14[A ]| very, very sorry we are to part ~~ so soon, and so suddenly 213:224,15[A ]| too; but I am not offended, indeed I am not. I can 213:224,16[A ]| finish my visit here you know at any time; or I hope you 213:224,17[A ]| will come to me. Can you, when you return from this 213:224,18[A ]| lord's, come to Fullerton?" 213:224,19[C ]| "It will not be in my power, Catherine." 213:224,20[C ]| "Come when you can, then." ~~ 213:224,21[' ]| Eleanor made no answer; and Catherine's thoughts 213:224,22[' ]| recurring to something more directly interesting, she 213:224,23[' ]| added, thinking aloud, 213:224,23[A ]| "Monday ~~ so soon as Monday; ~~ 213:224,24[A ]| and you \all\ go. Well, I am certain of ~~ I shall be able 213:224,25[A ]| to take leave however. I need not go till just before you 213:224,26[A ]| do, you know. Do not be distressed, Eleanor, I can go 213:224,27[A ]| on Monday very well. My father and mother's having 213:224,28[A ]| no notice of it is of very little consequence. The General 213:224,29[A ]| will send a servant with me, I dare say, half the way ~~ 213:224,30[A ]| and then I shall soon be at Salisbury, and then I am only 213:224,31[A ]| nine miles from home." 213:224,32[C ]| "Ah, Catherine! were it settled so, it would be somewhat 213:224,33[C ]| less intolerable, though in such common attentions 213:224,34[C ]| you would have received but half what you ought. 213:224,35[C ]| But ~~ how can I tell you? ~~ To-morrow morning is fixed 213:224,36[C ]| for your leaving us, and not even the hour is left to your 213:224,37[C ]| choice; the very carriage is ordered, and will be here at 213:224,38[C ]| seven o'clock, and no servant will be offered you." 213:225,01[' ]| Catherine sat down, breathless and speechless. 213:225,01[C ]| "I 213:225,02[C ]| could hardly believe my senses, when I heard it; ~~ and 213:225,03[C ]| no displeasure, no resentment that you can feel at this 213:225,04[C ]| moment, however justly great, can be more than I myself ~~ 213:225,05[C ]| but I must not talk of what I felt. Oh! that 213:225,06[C ]| I could suggest any*thing in extenuation! Good God! 213:225,07[C ]| what will your father and mother say! After courting 213:225,08[C ]| you from the protection of real friends to this ~~ almost 213:225,09[C ]| double distance from your home, to have you driven out 213:225,10[C ]| of the house, without the considerations even of decent 213:225,11[C ]| civility! Dear, dear Catherine, in being the bearer of 213:225,12[C ]| such a message, I seem guilty myself of all its insult; 213:225,13[C ]| yet, I trust you will acquit me, for you must have been 213:225,14[C ]| long enough in this house to see that I am but a nominal 213:225,15[C ]| mistress of it, that my real power is nothing." 213:225,16[A ]| "Have I offended the General?" 213:225,16[' ]| said Catherine in 213:225,17[' ]| a faltering voice. 213:225,18[C ]| "Alas! for my feelings as a daughter, all that I know, 213:225,19[C ]| all that I answer for is, that you can have given him no 213:225,20[C ]| just cause of offence. He certainly is greatly, very 213:225,21[C ]| greatly discomposed; I have seldom seen him more so. 213:225,22[C ]| His temper is not happy, and something has now occurred 213:225,23[C ]| to ruffle it in an uncommon degree; some disappointment, 213:225,24[C ]| some vexation, which just at this moment seems important; 213:225,25[C ]| but which I can hardly suppose you to have any 213:225,26[C ]| concern in, for how is it possible?" 213:225,27[' ]| It was with pain that Catherine could speak at all; 213:225,28[' ]| and it was only for Eleanor's sake that she attempted it. 213:225,29[A ]| "I am sure," 213:225,29[' ]| said she, 213:225,29[A ]| "I am very sorry if I have offended 213:225,30[A ]| him. It was the last thing I would willingly have done. 213:225,31[A ]| But do not be unhappy, Eleanor. An engagement you 213:225,32[A ]| know must be kept. I am only sorry it was not recollected 213:225,33[A ]| sooner, that I might have written home. But it is of very 213:225,34[A ]| little consequence." 213:225,35[C ]| "I hope, I earnestly hope that to your real safety it 213:225,36[C ]| will be of none; but to every*thing else it is of the greatest 213:225,37[C ]| consequence; to comfort, appearance, propriety, to your 213:225,38[C ]| family, to the world. Were your friends, the Allens, still 213:226,01[C ]| in Bath, you might go to them with comparative ease; 213:226,02[C ]| a few hours would take you there; but a journey of 213:226,03[C ]| seventy miles, to be taken post by you, at your age, 213:226,04[C ]| alone, unattended!" 213:226,05[A ]| "Oh, the journey is nothing. Do not think about that. 213:226,06[A ]| And if we are to part, a few hours sooner or later, you 213:226,07[A ]| know, makes no difference. I can be ready by seven. 213:226,08[A ]| Let me be called in time." 213:226,08[' ]| Eleanor saw that she wished 213:226,09[' ]| to be alone; and believing it better for each that they 213:226,10[' ]| should avoid any further conversation, now left her with 213:226,11[C ]| "I shall see you in the morning." 213:226,12[' ]| Catherine's swelling heart needed relief. In Eleanor's 213:226,13[' ]| presence friendship and pride had equally restrained 213:226,14[' ]| her tears, but no sooner was she gone than they burst 213:226,15[' ]| forth in torrents. 213:226,15@a | Turned from the house, and in such 213:226,16@a | a way! ~~ Without any reason that could justify, any 213:226,17@a | apology that could atone for the abruptness, the rudeness, 213:226,18@a | nay, the insolence of it. Henry at a distance ~~ not able 213:226,19@a | even to bid him farewell. Every hope, every expectation 213:226,20@a | from him suspended, at least, and who could say how 213:226,21@a | long? ~~ Who could say when they might meet again? ~~ 213:226,22@a | And all this by such a man as General*Tilney, so polite, 213:226,23@a | so well-bred, and heretofore so particularly fond of her! 213:226,24@a | It was as incomprehensible as it was mortifying and 213:226,25@a | grievous. From what it could arise, and where it would 213:226,26@a | end, were considerations of equal perplexity and alarm. 213:226,27@a | The manner in which it was done so grossly uncivil; 213:226,28@a | hurrying her away without any reference to her own 213:226,29@a | convenience, or allowing her even the appearance of 213:226,30@a | choice as to the time or mode of her travelling; of two 213:226,31@a | days, the earliest fixed on, and of that almost the earliest 213:226,32@a | hour, as if resolved to have her gone before he was stirring 213:226,33@a | in the morning, that he might not be obliged even to see 213:226,34@a | her. What could all this mean but an intentional 213:226,35@a | affront? By some means or other she must have had 213:226,36@a | the misfortune to offend him. Eleanor had wished to 213:226,37@a | spare her from so painful a notion, but Catherine could 213:226,38@a | not believe it possible that any injury or any misfortune 213:227,01@a | could provoke such ill-will against a person not connected, 213:227,02@a | or, at least, not supposed to be connected with it. 213:227,03[' ]| Heavily past the night. Sleep, or repose that deserved 213:227,04[' ]| the name of sleep, was out of the question. That room, 213:227,05[' ]| in which her disturbed imagination had tormented her 213:227,06[' ]| on her first arrival, was again the scene of agitated spirits 213:227,07[' ]| and unquiet slumbers. Yet how different how the source 213:227,08[' ]| of her inquietude from what it had been then ~~ how 213:227,09[' ]| mournfully superior in reality and substance! Her 213:227,10[' ]| anxiety had foundation in fact, her fears in probability; 213:227,11[' ]| and with a mind so occupied in the contemplation of 213:227,12[' ]| actual and natural evil, the solitude of her situation, the 213:227,13[' ]| darkness of her chamber, the antiquity of the building 213:227,14[' ]| were felt and considered without the smallest emotion; 213:227,15[' ]| and though the wind was high, and often produced 213:227,16[' ]| strange and sudden noises throughout the house, she 213:227,17[' ]| heard it all as she lay awake, hour after hour, without 213:227,18[' ]| curiosity or terror. 213:227,19[' ]| Soon after six Eleanor entered her room, eager to show 213:227,20[' ]| attention or give assistance where it was possible; but 213:227,21[' ]| very little remained to be done. Catherine had not 213:227,22[' ]| loitered; she was almost dressed, and her packing almost 213:227,23[' ]| finished. The possibility of some conciliatory message 213:227,24[' ]| from the General occurred to her as his daughter appeared. 213:227,25@a | What so natural, as that anger should pass away and 213:227,26@a | repentance succeed it? 213:227,26[' ]| and she only wanted to know 213:227,27[' ]| how far, after what had passed, an apology might properly 213:227,28[' ]| be received by her. But the knowledge would have been 213:227,29[' ]| useless here, it was not called for; neither clemency nor 213:227,30[' ]| dignity was put to the trial ~~ Eleanor brought no message. 213:227,31[' ]| Very little passed between them on meeting; each found 213:227,32[' ]| her greatest safety in silence, and few and trivial were the 213:227,33[' ]| sentences exchanged while they remained up*stairs, 213:227,34[' ]| Catherine in busy agitation completing her dress, and 213:227,35[' ]| Eleanor with more good-will than experience intent upon 213:227,36[' ]| filling the trunk. When every*thing was done they left 213:227,37[' ]| the room, Catherine lingering only half a minute behind 213:227,38[' ]| her friend to throw a parting glance on every well-known 213:228,01[' ]| cherished object, and went down to the breakfast-parlour, 213:228,02[' ]| where breakfast was prepared. She tried to eat, as well 213:228,03[' ]| to save herself from the pain of being urged, as to make 213:228,04[' ]| her friend comfortable; but she had no appetite, and 213:228,05[' ]| could not swallow many mouthfuls. The contrast between 213:228,06[' ]| this and her last breakfast in that room, gave her fresh 213:228,07[' ]| misery, and strengthened her distaste for every*thing 213:228,08[' ]| before her. 213:228,08@a | It was not four-and-twenty hours ago since 213:228,09@a | they had met there to the same repast, but in circumstances 213:228,10@a | how different! With what cheerful ease, what 213:228,11@a | happy, though false security, had she then looked around 213:228,12@a | her, enjoying every*thing present, and fearing little in 213:228,13@a | future, beyond Henry's going to Woodston for a day! 213:228,14@a | Happy, happy breakfast! for Henry had been there, 213:228,15@a | Henry had sat by her and helped her. 213:228,15[' ]| These reflections 213:228,16[' ]| were long indulged undisturbed by any address from her 213:228,17[' ]| companion, who sat as deep in thought as herself; and 213:228,18[' ]| the appearance of the carriage was the first thing to 213:228,19[' ]| startle and recall them to the present moment. Catherine's 213:228,20[' ]| colour rose at the sight of it; and the indignity with 213:228,21[' ]| which she was treated striking at that instant on her 213:228,22[' ]| mind with peculiar force, made her for a short time 213:228,23[' ]| sensible only of resentment. Eleanor seemed now 213:228,24[' ]| impelled into resolution and speech. 213:228,25[C ]| "You \must\ write to me, Catherine," 213:228,25[' ]| she cried, 213:228,25[C ]| "you 213:228,26[C ]| \must\ let me hear from you as soon as possible. Till 213:228,27[C ]| I know you to be safe at home, I shall not have an hour's 213:228,28[C ]| comfort. For \one\ letter, at all risks, all hazards, I must 213:228,29[C ]| entreat. Let me have the satisfaction of knowing that 213:228,30[C ]| you are safe at Fullerton, and have found your family 213:228,31[C ]| well, and then, till I can ask for your correspondence as 213:228,32[C ]| I ought to do, I will not expect more. Direct to me at 213:228,33[C ]| Lord*Longtown's, and, I must ask it, under cover to 213:228,34[C ]| Alice." 213:228,35[A ]| "No, Eleanor, if you are not allowed to receive a letter 213:228,36[A ]| from me, I am sure I had better not write. There can be 213:228,37[A ]| no doubt of my getting home safe." 213:228,38[' ]| Eleanor only replied, 213:228,38[C ]| "I cannot wonder at your 213:229,01[C ]| feelings. I will not importune you. I will trust to your 213:229,02[C ]| own kindness of heart when I am at a distance from you." 213:229,03[' ]| But this, with the look of sorrow accompanying it, was 213:229,04[' ]| enough to melt Catherine's pride in a moment, and she 213:229,05[' ]| instantly said, 213:229,05[A ]| "Oh, Eleanor, I \will\ write to you indeed." 213:229,06[' ]| There was yet another point which Miss*Tilney was 213:229,07[' ]| anxious to settle, though somewhat embarrassed in speaking 213:229,08[' ]| of. It had occurred to her, that after so long an 213:229,09[' ]| absence from home, Catherine might not be provided with 213:229,10[' ]| money enough for the expenses of her journey, and, upon 213:229,11[' ]| suggesting it to her with most affectionate offers of accommodation, 213:229,12[' ]| it proved to be exactly the case. Catherine 213:229,13[' ]| had never thought on the subject till that moment; but, 213:229,14[' ]| upon examining her purse, was convinced that but for this 213:229,15[' ]| kindness of her friend, she might have been turned from 213:229,16[' ]| the house without even the means of getting home; 213:229,17[' ]| and the distress in which she must have been thereby 213:229,18[' ]| involved filling the minds of both, scarcely another word 213:229,19[' ]| was said by either during the time of their remaining 213:229,20[' ]| together. Short, however, was that time. The carriage 213:229,21[' ]| was soon announced to be ready; and Catherine, instantly 213:229,22[' ]| rising, a long and affectionate embrace supplied the place 213:229,23[' ]| of language in bidding each other adieu; and, as they 213:229,24[' ]| entered the hall, unable to leave the house without some 213:229,25[' ]| mention of one whose name had not yet been spoken 213:229,26[' ]| by either, she paused a moment, and with quivering lips 213:229,27[' ]| just made it intelligible that she left 213:229,27[A ]| "her kind remembrance 213:229,28[A ]| for her absent friend." 213:229,28[' ]| But with this approach 213:229,29[' ]| to his name ended all possibility of restraining her feelings; 213:229,30[' ]| and, hiding her face as well as she could with her handkerchief, 213:229,31[' ]| she darted across the hall, jumped into the chaise, 213:229,32[' ]| and in a moment was driven from the door. 214:230,01[' ]| Catherine was too wretched to be fearful. The 214:230,02[' ]| journey in itself had no terrors for her; and she began it 214:230,03[' ]| without either dreading its length, or feeling its solitariness. 214:230,04[' ]| Leaning back in one corner of the carriage, in a violent 214:230,05[' ]| burst of tears, she was conveyed some miles beyond the 214:230,06[' ]| walls of the Abbey before she raised her head; and the 214:230,07[' ]| highest point of ground within the park was almost closed 214:230,08[' ]| from her view before she was capable of turning her 214:230,09[' ]| eyes towards it. Unfortunately, the road she now 214:230,10[' ]| travelled was the same which only ten days ago she had 214:230,11[' ]| so happily passed along in going to and from Woodston; 214:230,12[' ]| and, for fourteen miles, every bitter feeling was rendered 214:230,13[' ]| more severe by the review of objects on which she had 214:230,14[' ]| first looked under impressions so different. Every mile, 214:230,15[' ]| as it brought her nearer Woodston, added to her sufferings, 214:230,16[' ]| and when within the distance of five, she passed the 214:230,17[' ]| turning which led to it, and thought of Henry, so near, 214:230,18[' ]| yet so unconscious, her grief and agitation were excessive. 214:230,19@a | The day which she had spent at that place had been 214:230,20@a | one of the happiest of her life. It was there, it was on 214:230,21@a | that day that the General had made use of such expressions 214:230,22@a | with regard to Henry and herself, had so spoken 214:230,23@a | and so looked as to give her the most positive conviction 214:230,24@a | of his actually wishing their marriage. Yes, only ten 214:230,25@a | days ago had he elated her by his pointed regard ~~ had he 214:230,26@a | even confused her by his too significant reference! And 214:230,27@a | now ~~ what had she done, or what had she omitted to do, 214:230,28@a | to merit such a change? 214:230,29@a | The only offence against him of which she could accuse 214:230,30@a | herself, had been such as was scarcely possible to reach 214:230,31@a | his knowledge. Henry and her own heart only were 214:230,32@a | privy to the shocking suspicions which she had so idly 214:230,33@a | entertained; and equally safe did she believe her secret 214:231,01@a | with each. Designedly, at least, Henry could not have 214:231,02@a | betrayed her. If, indeed, by any strange mischance his 214:231,03@a | father should have gained intelligence of what she had 214:231,04@a | dared to think and look for, of her causeless fancies and 214:231,05@a | injurious examinations, she could not wonder at any 214:231,06@a | degree of his indignation. If aware of her having viewed 214:231,07@a | him as a murderer, she could not wonder at his even 214:231,08@a | turning her from his house. But a justification so full of 214:231,09@a | torture to herself, she trusted would not be in his power. 214:231,10[' ]| Anxious as were all her conjectures on this point, it 214:231,11[' ]| was not, however, the one on which she dwelt most. 214:231,12[' ]| There was a thought yet nearer, a more prevailing, more 214:231,13[' ]| impetuous concern. 214:231,13@a | How Henry would think, and feel, 214:231,14@a | and look, when he returned on the morrow to Northanger 214:231,15@a | and heard of her being gone, was a question of force and 214:231,16@a | interest to rise over every other, to be never ceasing, 214:231,17@a | alternately irritating and soothing; it sometimes suggested 214:231,18@a | the dread of his calm acquiescence, and at others was 214:231,19@a | answered by the sweetest confidence in his regret and 214:231,20@a | resentment. To the General, of course, he would not 214:231,21@a | dare to speak; but to Eleanor ~~ what might he not say 214:231,22@a | to Eleanor about her? 214:231,23[' ]| In this unceasing recurrence of doubts and inquiries, 214:231,24[' ]| on any one article of which her mind was incapable of 214:231,25[' ]| more than momentary repose, the hours passed away, 214:231,26[' ]| and her journey advanced much faster than she looked for. 214:231,27[' ]| The pressing anxieties of thought, which prevented her 214:231,28[' ]| from noticing any*thing before her, when once beyond the 214:231,29[' ]| neighbourhood of Woodston, saved her at the same time 214:231,30[' ]| from watching her progress; and though no object on the 214:231,31[' ]| road could engage a moment's attention, she found no 214:231,32[' ]| stage of it tedious. From this, she was preserved too by 214:231,33[' ]| another cause, by feeling no eagerness for her journey's 214:231,34[' ]| conclusion; 214:231,34@a | for to return in such a manner to Fullerton 214:231,35@a | was almost to destroy the pleasure of a meeting with 214:231,36@a | those she loved best, even after an absence such as her's ~~ 214:231,37@a | an eleven weeks absence. What had she to say that 214:231,38@a | would not humble herself and pain her family; that 214:232,01@a | would not increase her own grief by the confession of it, 214:232,02@a | extend an useless resentment, and perhaps involve the 214:232,03@a | innocent with the guilty in undistinguishing ill-will? 214:232,04@a | She could never do justice to Henry and Eleanor's merit; 214:232,05@a | she felt it too strongly for expression; and should a dislike 214:232,06@a | be taken against them, should they be thought of unfavourably, 214:232,07@a | on their father's account, it would cut her 214:232,08@a | to the heart. 214:232,09[' ]| With these feelings, she rather dreaded than sought for 214:232,10[' ]| the first view of that well-known spire which would 214:232,11[' ]| announce her within twenty miles of home. Salisbury 214:232,12[' ]| she had known to be her point on leaving Northanger; 214:232,13[' ]| but after the first stage she had been indebted to the 214:232,14[' ]| post-masters for the names of the places which were then 214:232,15[' ]| to conduct her to it; so great had been her ignorance of 214:232,16[' ]| her route. She met with nothing, however, to distress or 214:232,17[' ]| frighten her. Her youth, civil manners and liberal pay, 214:232,18[' ]| procured her all the attention that a traveller like herself 214:232,19[' ]| could require; and stopping only to change horses, she 214:232,20[' ]| travelled on for about eleven hours without accident 214:232,21[' ]| or alarm, and between six and seven o'clock in the evening 214:232,22[' ]| found herself entering Fullerton. 214:232,23[' ]| A heroine returning, at the close of her career, to her 214:232,24[' ]| native village, in all the triumph of recovered reputation, 214:232,25[' ]| and all the dignity of a countess, with a long train of 214:232,26[' ]| noble relations in their several phaetons, and three 214:232,27[' ]| waiting-maids in a travelling chaise-and-four, behind her, 214:232,28[' ]| is an event on which the pen of the contriver may well 214:232,29[' ]| delight to dwell; it gives credit to every conclusion, and 214:232,30[' ]| the author must share in the glory she so liberally bestows. 214:232,31[' ]| ~~ But my affair is widely different; I bring back my 214:232,32[' ]| heroine to her home in solitude and disgrace; and no 214:232,33[' ]| sweet elation of spirits can lead me into minuteness. 214:232,34[' ]| A heroine in a hack post-chaise, is such a blow upon 214:232,35[' ]| sentiment, as no attempt at grandeur or pathos can 214:232,36[' ]| withstand. Swiftly therefore shall her post-boy drive 214:232,37[' ]| through the village, amid the gaze of Sunday groups, and 214:232,38[' ]| speedy shall be her descent from it. 214:233,01[' ]| But, whatever might be the distress of Catherine's 214:233,02[' ]| mind, as she thus advanced towards the Parsonage, and 214:233,03[' ]| whatever the humiliation of her biographer in relating it, 214:233,04[' ]| she was preparing enjoyment of no every-day nature 214:233,05[' ]| for those to whom she went; first, in the appearance of 214:233,06[' ]| her carriage ~~ and secondly, in herself. The chaise of a 214:233,07[' ]| traveller being a rare sight in Fullerton, the whole family 214:233,08[' ]| were immediately at the window; and to have it stop 214:233,09[' ]| at the sweep-gate was a pleasure to brighten every eye 214:233,10[' ]| and occupy every fancy ~~ a pleasure quite unlooked for 214:233,11[' ]| by all but the two youngest children, a boy and girl of 214:233,12[' ]| six and four years old, who expected a brother or sister 214:233,13[' ]| in every carriage. Happy the glance that first distinguished 214:233,14[' ]| Catherine! ~~ Happy the voice that proclaimed 214:233,15[' ]| the discovery! ~~ But whether such happiness were the 214:233,16[' ]| lawful property of George or Harriet could never be 214:233,17[' ]| exactly understood. 214:233,18[' ]| Her father, mother, Sarah, George, and Harriet, all 214:233,19[' ]| assembled at the door, to welcome her with affectionate 214:233,20[' ]| eagerness, was a sight to awaken the best feelings of 214:233,21[' ]| Catherine's heart; and in the embrace of each, as she 214:233,22[' ]| stepped from the carriage, she found herself soothed 214:233,23[' ]| beyond any*thing that she had believed possible. So 214:233,24[' ]| surrounded, so caressed, she was even happy! In the 214:233,25[' ]| joyfulness of family love every*thing for a short time was 214:233,26[' ]| subdued, and the pleasure of seeing her, leaving them at 214:233,27[' ]| first little leisure for calm curiosity, they were all seated 214:233,28[' ]| round the tea-table, which Mrs%*Morland had hurried for 214:233,29[' ]| the comfort of the poor traveller, whose pale and jaded 214:233,30[' ]| looks soon caught her notice, before any inquiry so direct 214:233,31[' ]| as to demand a positive answer was addressed to her. 214:233,32[' ]| Reluctantly, and with much hesitation, did she then 214:233,33[' ]| begin what might perhaps, at the end of half an hour, 214:233,34[' ]| be termed by the courtesy of her hearers, an explanation; 214:233,35[' ]| but scarcely, within that time, could they at all discover 214:233,36[' ]| the cause, or collect the particulars of her sudden return. 214:233,37[' ]| They were far from being an irritable race; far from any 214:233,38[' ]| quickness in catching, or bitterness in resenting affronts: ~~ 214:234,01[' ]| but here, when the whole was unfolded, was an insult 214:234,02[' ]| not to be overlooked, nor, for the first half hour, to be 214:234,03[' ]| easily pardoned. Without suffering any romantic alarm, 214:234,04[' ]| in the consideration of their daughter's long and lonely 214:234,05[' ]| journey, Mr% and Mrs%*Morland could not but feel that 214:234,05@y | it 214:234,06@y | might have been productive of much unpleasantness to 214:234,07@y | her; that it was what they could never have voluntarily 214:234,08@y | suffered; and that, in forcing her on such a measure, 214:234,09@y | General*Tilney had acted neither honourably nor feelingly ~~ 214:234,10@y | neither as a gentleman nor as a parent. 214:234,10[' ]| Why he 214:234,11[' ]| had done it, what could have provoked him to such 214:234,12[' ]| a breach of hospitality, and so suddenly turned all his 214:234,13[' ]| partial regard for their daughter into actual ill-will, was 214:234,14[' ]| a matter which they were at least as far from divining as 214:234,15[' ]| Catherine herself; but it did not oppress them by any 214:234,16[' ]| means so long; and, after a due course of useless conjecture, 214:234,17[' ]| that, 214:234,17@y | "it was a strange business, and that he 214:234,18@y | must be a very strange man," 214:234,18[' ]| grew enough for all their 214:234,19[' ]| indignation and wonder; though Sarah indeed still 214:234,20[' ]| indulged in the sweets of incomprehensibility, exclaiming 214:234,21[' ]| and conjecturing with youthful ardour. ~~ 214:234,21[J ]| "My dear, you 214:234,22[J ]| give yourself a great deal of needless trouble," 214:234,22[' ]| said her 214:234,23[' ]| mother at last; 214:234,23[J ]| "depend upon it, it is something not at 214:234,24[J ]| all worth understanding." 214:234,25[L ]| "I can allow for his wishing Catherine away, when he 214:234,26[L ]| recollected this engagement," 214:234,26[' ]| said Sarah, 214:234,26[L ]| "but why not 214:234,27[L ]| do it civilly?" 214:234,28[J ]| "I am sorry for the young people," 214:234,28[' ]| returned Mrs%*Morland; 214:234,29[J ]| "they must have a sad time of it; but as for 214:234,30[J ]| any*thing else, it is no matter now; Catherine is safe at 214:234,31[J ]| home, and our comfort does not depend upon General*Tilney." 214:234,32[' ]| Catherine sighed. 214:234,32[J ]| "Well," 214:234,32[' ]| continued her 214:234,33[' ]| philosophic mother, 214:234,33[J ]| "I am glad I did not know of your 214:234,34[J ]| journey at the time; but now it is all over perhaps there 214:234,35[J ]| is no great harm done. It is always good for young 214:234,36[J ]| people to be put upon exerting themselves; and you 214:234,37[J ]| know, my dear Catherine, you always were a sad little 214:234,38[J ]| shatter-brained creature; but now you must have been 214:235,01[J ]| forced to have your wits about you, with so much changing 214:235,02[J ]| of chaises and so forth; and I hope it will appear that 214:235,03[J ]| you have not left any*thing behind you in any of the 214:235,04[J ]| pockets." 214:235,05[' ]| Catherine hoped so too, and tried to feel an interest in 214:235,06[' ]| her own amendment, but her spirits were quite worn 214:235,07[' ]| down; and, to be silent and alone becoming soon her only 214:235,08[' ]| wish, she readily agreed to her mother's next counsel of 214:235,09[' ]| going early to bed. Her parents seeing nothing in her 214:235,10[' ]| ill-looks and agitation but the natural consequence of 214:235,11[' ]| mortified feelings, and of the unusual exertion and 214:235,12[' ]| fatigue of such a journey, parted from her without any 214:235,13[' ]| doubt of their being soon slept away; and though, when 214:235,14[' ]| they all met the next morning, her recovery was not 214:235,15[' ]| equal to their hopes, they were still perfectly unsuspicious 214:235,16[' ]| of there being any deeper evil. They never once thought 214:235,17[' ]| of her heart, which, for the parents of a young lady of 214:235,18[' ]| seventeen, just returned from her first excursion from 214:235,19[' ]| home, was odd enough! 214:235,20[' ]| As soon as breakfast was over, she sat down to fulfil 214:235,21[' ]| her promise to Miss*Tilney, whose trust in the effect of 214:235,22[' ]| time and distance on her friend's disposition was already 214:235,23[' ]| justified, for already did Catherine reproach herself 214:235,23@a | with 214:235,24@a | having parted from Eleanor coldly; with having never 214:235,25@a | enough valued her merits or kindness; and never enough 214:235,26@a | commiserated her for what she had been yesterday left to 214:235,27@a | endure. 214:235,27[' ]| The strength of these feelings, however, was far 214:235,28[' ]| from assisting her pen; and never had it been harder 214:235,29[' ]| for her to write than in addressing Eleanor*Tilney. To 214:235,30[' ]| compose a letter which might at once do justice to her 214:235,31[' ]| sentiments and her situation, convey gratitude without 214:235,32[' ]| servile regret, be guarded without coldness, and honest 214:235,33[' ]| without resentment ~~ a letter which Eleanor might not be 214:235,34[' ]| pained by the perusal of ~~ and, above all, which she might 214:235,35[' ]| not blush herself, if Henry should chance to see, was an 214:235,36[' ]| undertaking to frighten away all her powers of performance; 214:235,37[' ]| and, after long thought and much perplexity, to 214:235,38[' ]| be very brief was all that she could determine on with 214:236,01[' ]| any confidence of safety. The money therefore which 214:236,02[' ]| Eleanor had advanced was inclosed with little more than 214:236,03[' ]| grateful thanks, and the thousand good wishes of a most 214:236,04[' ]| affectionate heart. 214:236,05[J ]| "This has been a strange acquaintance," 214:236,05[' ]| observed 214:236,06[' ]| Mrs%*Morland, as the letter was finished; 214:236,06[J ]| "soon made 214:236,07[J ]| and soon ended. ~~ I am sorry it happens so, for Mrs%*Allen 214:236,08[J ]| thought them very pretty kind of young people; 214:236,09[J ]| and you were sadly out of luck too in your Isabella. 214:236,10[J ]| Ah! poor James! Well, we must live and learn; and 214:236,11[J ]| the next new friends you make I hope will be better 214:236,12[J ]| worth keeping." 214:236,13[' ]| Catherine coloured as she warmly answered, 214:236,13[A ]| "No 214:236,14[A ]| friend can be better worth keeping than Eleanor." 214:236,15[J ]| "If so, my dear, I dare say you will meet again some 214:236,16[J ]| time or other; do not be uneasy. It is ten to one but 214:236,17[J ]| you are thrown together again in the course of a few 214:236,18[J ]| years; and then what a pleasure it will be!" 214:236,19[' ]| Mrs%*Morland was not happy in her attempt at consolation. 214:236,20[' ]| The hope of meeting again in the course of a few 214:236,21[' ]| years could only put into Catherine's head what might 214:236,22[' ]| happen within that time to make a meeting dreadful to 214:236,23[' ]| her. 214:236,23@a | She could never forget Henry*Tilney, or think of 214:236,24@a | him with less tenderness than she did at that moment; 214:236,25@a | but he might forget her; and in that case to meet! ~~ 214:236,26[' ]| Her eyes filled with tears as she pictured her acquaintance 214:236,27[' ]| so renewed; and her mother, perceiving her comfortable 214:236,28[' ]| suggestions to have had no good effect, proposed, as 214:236,29[' ]| another expedient for restoring her spirits, that they 214:236,30[' ]| should call on Mrs%*Allen. 214:236,31[' ]| The two houses were only a quarter of a mile apart; 214:236,32[' ]| and, as they walked, Mrs%*Morland quickly dispatched all 214:236,33[' ]| that she felt on the score of James's disappointment. 214:236,34[J ]| "We are sorry for him," 214:236,34[' ]| said she; 214:236,34[J ]| "but otherwise there 214:236,35[J ]| is no harm done in the match going off; for it could not 214:236,36[J ]| be a desirable thing to have him engaged to a girl whom 214:236,37[J ]| we had not the smallest acquaintance with, and who was 214:236,38[J ]| so entirely without fortune; and now, after such behaviour, 214:237,01[J ]| we cannot think at all well of her. Just at present 214:237,02[J ]| it comes hard to poor James; but that will not last for*ever; 214:237,03[J ]| and I dare say he will be a discreeter man all his 214:237,04[J ]| life, for the foolishness of his first choice." 214:237,05[' ]| This was just such a summary view of the affair as 214:237,06[' ]| Catherine could listen to; another sentence might have 214:237,07[' ]| endangered her complaisance, and made her reply less 214:237,08[' ]| rational; for soon were all her thinking powers swallowed 214:237,09[' ]| up in the reflection of her own change of feelings and 214:237,10[' ]| spirits since last she had trodden that well-known road. 214:237,11[' ]| It was not three months ago since, wild with joyful 214:237,12[' ]| expectation, she had there run backwards and forwards 214:237,13[' ]| some ten times a-day, with an heart light, gay, and 214:237,14[' ]| independent; looking forward to pleasures untasted and 214:237,15[' ]| unalloyed, and free from the apprehension of evil as from 214:237,16[' ]| the knowledge of it. 214:237,16@a | Three months ago had seen her all 214:237,17@a | this; and now, how altered a being did she return! 214:237,18[' ]| She was received by the Allens with all the kindness 214:237,19[' ]| which her unlooked-for appearance, acting on a steady 214:237,20[' ]| affection, would naturally call forth; and great was their 214:237,21[' ]| surprize, and warm their displeasure, on hearing how she 214:237,22[' ]| had been treated, ~~ though Mrs%*Morland's account of it 214:237,23[' ]| was no inflated representation, no studied appeal to their 214:237,24[' ]| passions. 214:237,24[J ]| "Catherine took us quite by surprize yesterday 214:237,25[J ]| evening," 214:237,25[' ]| said she. 214:237,25[J ]| "She travelled all the way post by 214:237,26[J ]| herself, and knew nothing of coming till Saturday night; 214:237,27[J ]| for General*Tilney, from some odd fancy or other, all of 214:237,28[J ]| a sudden grew tired of having her there, and almost 214:237,29[J ]| turned her out of the house. Very unfriendly, certainly; 214:237,30[J ]| and he must be a very odd man; ~~ but we are so glad to 214:237,31[J ]| have her amongst us again! And it is a great comfort 214:237,32[J ]| to find that she is not a poor helpless creature, but can 214:237,33[J ]| shift very well for herself." 214:237,34[' ]| Mr%*Allen expressed himself on the occasion with the 214:237,35[' ]| reasonable resentment of a sensible friend; and Mrs%*Allen 214:237,36[' ]| thought his expressions quite good enough to be 214:237,37[' ]| immediately made use of again by herself. His wonder, 214:237,38[' ]| his conjectures, and his explanations, became in succession 214:238,01[' ]| her's, with the addition of this single remark ~~ 214:238,01[I ]| "I really 214:238,02[I ]| have not patience with the General" ~~ 214:238,02[' ]| to fill up every 214:238,03[' ]| accidental pause. And, 214:238,03[I ]| "I really have not patience with 214:238,04[I ]| the General," 214:238,04[' ]| was uttered twice after Mr%*Allen left the 214:238,05[' ]| room, without any relaxation of anger, or any material 214:238,06[' ]| digression of thought. A more considerable degree of 214:238,07[' ]| wandering attended the third repetition; and, after completing 214:238,08[' ]| the fourth, she immediately added, 214:238,08[I ]| "Only think, 214:238,09[I ]| my dear, of my having got that frightful great rent in my 214:238,10[I ]| best Mechlin so charmingly mended, before I left Bath, 214:238,11[I ]| that one can hardly see where it was. I must shew it you 214:238,12[I ]| some day or other. Bath is a nice place, Catherine, after 214:238,13[I ]| all. I assure you I did not above half like coming away. 214:238,14[I ]| Mrs%*Thorpe's being there was such a comfort to us, was 214:238,15[I ]| not it? You know you and I were quite forlorn at first." 214:238,16[A ]| "Yes, but \that\ did not last long," 214:238,16[' ]| said Catherine, her 214:238,17[' ]| eyes brightening at the recollection of what had first 214:238,18[' ]| given spirit to her existence there. 214:238,19[I ]| "Very true: we soon met with Mrs%*Thorpe, and then 214:238,20[I ]| we wanted for nothing. My dear, do not you think 214:238,21[I ]| these silk gloves wear very well? I put them on new 214:238,22[I ]| the first time of our going to the Lower*Rooms, you know, 214:238,23[I ]| and I have worn them a great deal since. Do you 214:238,24[I ]| remember that evening?" 214:238,25[A ]| "Do I! Oh! perfectly." 214:238,26[I ]| "It was very agreeable, was not it? Mr%*Tilney drank 214:238,27[I ]| tea with us, and I always thought him a great addition, 214:238,28[I ]| he is so very agreeable. I have a notion you danced 214:238,29[I ]| with him, but am not quite sure. I remember I had my 214:238,30[I ]| favourite gown on." 214:238,31[' ]| Catherine could not answer; and, after a short trial 214:238,32[' ]| of other subjects, Mrs%*Allen again returned to ~~ 214:238,32[I ]| "I really 214:238,33[I ]| have not patience with the General! Such an agreeable, 214:238,34[I ]| worthy man as he seemed to be! I do not suppose, 214:238,35[I ]| Mrs%*Morland, you ever saw a better-bred man in your 214:238,36[I ]| life. His lodgings were taken the very day after he left 214:238,37[I ]| them, Catherine. But no wonder; Milsom-street you 214:238,38[I ]| know." ~~ 214:239,01[' ]| As they walked home again, Mrs%*Morland endeavoured 214:239,02[' ]| to impress on her daughter's mind the happiness of having 214:239,03[' ]| such steady well-wishers as Mr% and Mrs%*Allen, and the 214:239,04[' ]| very little consideration which the neglect or unkindness 214:239,05[' ]| of slight acquaintance like the Tilneys ought to have 214:239,06[' ]| with her, while she could preserve the good opinion and 214:239,07[' ]| affection of her earliest friends. There was a great deal 214:239,08[' ]| of good sense in all this; but there are some situations 214:239,09[' ]| of the human mind in which good sense has very little 214:239,10[' ]| power; and Catherine's feelings contradicted almost 214:239,11[' ]| every position her mother advanced. 214:239,11@a | It was upon the 214:239,12@a | behaviour of these very slight acquaintance that all her 214:239,13@a | present happiness depended; 214:239,13[' ]| and while Mrs%*Morland 214:239,14[' ]| was successfully confirming her own opinions by the 214:239,15[' ]| justness of her own representations, Catherine was 214:239,16[' ]| silently reflecting that 214:239,16@a | \now\ Henry must have arrived at 214:239,17@a | Northanger; \now\ he must have heard of her departure; 214:239,18@a | and \now\, perhaps, they were all setting off for Hereford. 215:240,01[' ]| Catherine's disposition was not naturally sedentary, 215:240,02[' ]| nor had her habits been ever very industrious; but whatever 215:240,03[' ]| might hitherto have been her defects of that sort, 215:240,04[' ]| her mother could not but perceive them now to be greatly 215:240,05[' ]| increased. She could neither sit still, nor employ herself 215:240,06[' ]| for ten minutes together, walking round the garden and 215:240,07[' ]| orchard again and again, as if nothing but motion was 215:240,08[' ]| voluntary; and it seemed as if she could even walk about 215:240,09[' ]| the house rather than remain fixed for any time in the 215:240,10[' ]| parlour. Her loss of spirits was a yet greater alteration. 215:240,11[' ]| In her rambling and her idleness she might only be 215:240,12[' ]| a caricature of herself; but in her silence and sadness she 215:240,13[' ]| was the very reverse of all that she had been before. 215:240,14[' ]| For two days Mrs%*Morland allowed it to pass even 215:240,15[' ]| without a hint; but when a third night's rest had neither 215:240,16[' ]| restored her cheerfulness, improved her in useful activity, 215:240,17[' ]| nor given her a greater inclination for needle-work, she 215:240,18[' ]| could no longer refrain from the gentle reproof, 215:240,18[J ]| "My 215:240,19[J ]| dear Catherine, I am afraid you are growing quite a fine 215:240,20[J ]| lady. I do not know when poor Richard's cravats would 215:240,21[J ]| be done, if he had no friend but you. Your head runs 215:240,22[J ]| too much upon Bath; but there is a time for every*thing ~~ 215:240,23[J ]| a time for balls and plays, and a time for work. You 215:240,24[J ]| have had a long run of amusement, and now you must 215:240,25[J ]| try to be useful." 215:240,26[' ]| Catherine took up her work directly, saying, in a 215:240,27[' ]| dejected voice, that 215:240,27[A ]| "her head did not run upon 215:240,28[A ]| Bath ~~ much." 215:240,29[J ]| "Then you are fretting about General*Tilney, and that 215:240,30[J ]| is very simple of you; for ten to one whether you ever 215:240,31[J ]| see him again. You should never fret about trifles." 215:240,32[' ]| After a short silence ~~ 215:240,32[J ]| "I hope, my Catherine, you are 215:240,33[J ]| not getting out of humour with home because it is not so 215:241,01[J ]| grand as Northanger. That would be turning your visit 215:241,02[J ]| into an evil indeed. Wherever you are you should 215:241,03[J ]| always be contented, but especially at home, because 215:241,04[J ]| there you must spend the most of your time. I did not 215:241,05[J ]| quite like, at breakfast, to hear you talk so much about 215:241,06[J ]| the French-bread at Northanger." 215:241,07[A ]| "I am sure I do not care about the bread. It is all the 215:241,08[A ]| same to me what I eat." 215:241,09[J ]| "There is a very clever Essay in one of the books up*stairs 215:241,10[J ]| upon much such a subject, about young girls that 215:241,11[J ]| have been spoilt for home by great acquaintance ~~ ""The 215:241,12[J ]| Mirror,"" I think. I will look it out for you some day or 215:241,13[J ]| other, because I am sure it will do you good." 215:241,14[' ]| Catherine said no more, and, with an endeavour to do 215:241,15[' ]| right, applied to her work; but, after a few minutes, 215:241,16[' ]| sunk again, without knowing it herself, into languor and 215:241,17[' ]| listlessness, moving herself in her chair, from the irritation 215:241,18[' ]| of weariness, much oftener than she moved her needle. ~~ 215:241,19[' ]| Mrs%*Morland watched the progress of this relapse; and 215:241,20[' ]| seeing, in her daughter's absent and dissatisfied look, the 215:241,21[' ]| full proof of that repining spirit to which she had now 215:241,22[' ]| begun to attribute her want of cheerfulness, hastily left 215:241,23[' ]| the room to fetch the book in question, anxious to lose 215:241,24[' ]| no time in attacking so dreadful a malady. It was some 215:241,25[' ]| time before she could find what she looked for; and 215:241,26[' ]| other family matters occurring to detain her, a quarter 215:241,27[' ]| of an hour had elapsed ere she returned down*stairs with 215:241,28[' ]| the volume from which so much was hoped. Her avocations 215:241,29[' ]| above having shut out all noise but what she created 215:241,30[' ]| herself, she knew not that a visitor had arrived within 215:241,31[' ]| the last few minutes, till, on entering the room, the first 215:241,32[' ]| object she beheld was a young man whom she had never 215:241,33[' ]| seen before. With a look of much respect, he immediately 215:241,34[' ]| rose, and being introduced to her by her conscious 215:241,35[' ]| daughter, as 215:241,35[A ]| "Mr%*Henry*Tilney," 215:241,35[' ]| with the embarrassment 215:241,36[' ]| of real sensibility began to apologise for his appearance 215:241,37[' ]| there, acknowledging that after what had passed 215:241,38[' ]| he had little right to expect a welcome at Fullerton, and 215:242,01[' ]| stating his impatience to be assured of Miss*Morland's 215:242,02[' ]| having reached her home in safety, as the cause of his 215:242,03[' ]| intrusion. He did not address himself to an uncandid 215:242,04[' ]| judge or a resentful heart. Far from comprehending him 215:242,05[' ]| or his sister in their father's misconduct, Mrs%*Morland 215:242,06[' ]| had been always kindly disposed towards each, and 215:242,07[' ]| instantly, pleased by his appearance, received him with 215:242,08[' ]| the simple professions of unaffected benevolence; thanking 215:242,09[' ]| him for such an attention to her daughter, assuring 215:242,10[' ]| him that the friends of her children were always welcome 215:242,11[' ]| there, and intreating him to say not another word of 215:242,12[' ]| the past. 215:242,13[' ]| He was not ill inclined to obey this request, for, though 215:242,14[' ]| his heart was greatly relieved by such unlooked-for 215:242,15[' ]| mildness, it was not just at that moment in his power 215:242,16[' ]| to say any*thing to the purpose. Returning in silence to 215:242,17[' ]| his seat, therefore, he remained for some minutes most 215:242,18[' ]| civilly answering all Mrs%*Morland's common remarks 215:242,19[' ]| about the weather and roads. Catherine meanwhile, ~~ 215:242,20[' ]| the anxious, agitated, happy, feverish Catherine, ~~ said 215:242,21[' ]| not a word; but her glowing cheek and brightened eye 215:242,22[' ]| made her mother trust that this good-natured visit would 215:242,23[' ]| at least set her heart at ease for a time, and gladly therefore 215:242,24[' ]| did she lay aside the first volume of the Mirror for 215:242,25[' ]| a future hour. 215:242,26[' ]| Desirous of Mr%*Morland's assistance, as well in giving 215:242,27[' ]| encouragement, as in finding conversation for her guest, 215:242,28[' ]| whose embarrassment on his father's account she earnestly 215:242,29[' ]| pitied, Mrs%*Morland had very early dispatched one of 215:242,30[' ]| the children to summon him; but Mr%*Morland was from 215:242,31[' ]| home ~~ and being thus without any support, at the end 215:242,32[' ]| of a quarter of an hour she had nothing to say. After 215:242,33[' ]| a couple of minutes unbroken silence, Henry, turning to 215:242,34[' ]| Catherine for the first time since her mother's entrance, 215:242,35[' ]| asked her, with sudden alacrity, if Mr% and Mrs%*Allen 215:242,36[' ]| were now at Fullerton? and on developing, from amidst 215:242,37[' ]| all her perplexity of words in reply, the meaning, which 215:242,38[' ]| one short syllable would have given, immediately expressed 215:243,01[' ]| his intention of paying his respects to them, and, 215:243,02[' ]| with a rising colour, asked her if she would have the 215:243,03[' ]| goodness to shew him the way. 215:243,03[L ]| "You may see the house 215:243,04[L ]| from this window, sir," 215:243,04[' ]| was information on Sarah's side, 215:243,05[' ]| which produced only a bow of acknowledgment from the 215:243,06[' ]| gentleman, and a silencing nod from her mother; for 215:243,07[' ]| Mrs%*Morland, thinking it probable, as a secondary consideration 215:243,08[' ]| in his wish of waiting on their worthy neighbours, 215:243,09[' ]| that he might have some explanation to give of 215:243,10[' ]| his father's behaviour, which it must be more pleasant 215:243,11[' ]| for him to communicate only to Catherine, would not on 215:243,12[' ]| any account prevent her accompanying him. They 215:243,13[' ]| began their walk, and Mrs%*Morland was not entirely 215:243,14[' ]| mistaken in his object in wishing it. Some explanation 215:243,15[' ]| on his father's account he had to give; but his first 215:243,16[' ]| purpose was to explain himself, and before they reached 215:243,17[' ]| Mr%*Allen's grounds he had done it so well, that Catherine 215:243,18[' ]| did not think it could ever be repeated too often. She 215:243,19[' ]| was assured of his affection; 215:243,19[' ]| and that heart in return 215:243,20[' ]| was solicited, which, perhaps, they pretty equally knew 215:243,21[' ]| was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was 215:243,22[' ]| now sincerely attached to her, though he felt and delighted 215:243,23[' ]| in all the excellencies of her character and truly loved 215:243,24[' ]| her society, I must confess that his affection originated 215:243,25[' ]| in nothing better than gratitude, or, in other words, that 215:243,26[' ]| a persuasion of her partiality for him had been the only 215:243,27[' ]| cause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circumstance 215:243,28[' ]| in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully 215:243,29[' ]| derogatory of an heroine's dignity; but if it be as new 215:243,30[' ]| in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at 215:243,31[' ]| least be all my own. 215:243,32[' ]| A very short visit to Mrs%*Allen, in which Henry talked 215:243,33[' ]| at random, without sense or connection, and Catherine, 215:243,34[' ]| wrapt in the contemplation of her own unutterable 215:243,35[' ]| happiness, scarcely opened her lips, dismissed them to the 215:243,36[' ]| extasies of another te^te-a`-te^te; and before it was suffered 215:243,37[' ]| to close, she was enabled to judge how far he was sanctioned 215:243,38[' ]| by parental authority in his present application. 215:244,01[' ]| On his return from Woodston, two days before, he had 215:244,02[' ]| been met near the Abbey by his impatient father, hastily 215:244,03[' ]| informed in angry terms of Miss*Morland's departure, and 215:244,04[' ]| ordered to think of her no more. 215:244,05[' ]| Such was the permission upon which he had now 215:244,06[' ]| offered her his hand. The affrighted Catherine, amidst 215:244,07[' ]| all the terrors of expectation, as she listened to this account 215:244,08[' ]| could not but rejoice in the kind caution with which 215:244,09[' ]| Henry had saved her from the necessity of a conscientious 215:244,10[' ]| rejection, by engaging her faith before he mentioned the 215:244,11[' ]| subject; and as he proceeded to give the particulars, 215:244,12[' ]| and explain the motives of his father's conduct, her 215:244,13[' ]| feelings soon hardened into even a triumphant delight. 215:244,14[' ]| The General had had nothing to accuse her of, nothing 215:244,15[' ]| to lay to her charge, but her being the involuntary, 215:244,16[' ]| unconscious object of a deception which his pride could 215:244,17[' ]| not pardon, and which a better pride would have been 215:244,18[' ]| ashamed to own. She was guilty only of being less rich 215:244,19[' ]| than he had supposed her to be. Under a mistaken 215:244,20[' ]| persuasion of her possessions and claims, he had courted 215:244,21[' ]| her acquaintance in Bath, solicited her company at 215:244,22[' ]| Northanger, and designed her for his daughter in law. 215:244,23[' ]| On discovering his error, to turn her from the house 215:244,24[' ]| seemed the best, though to his feelings an inadequate 215:244,25[' ]| proof of his resentment towards herself, and his contempt 215:244,26[' ]| of her family. 215:244,27[' ]| John*Thorpe had first misled him. The General, perceiving 215:244,28[' ]| his son one night at the theatre to be paying 215:244,29[' ]| considerable attention to Miss*Morland, had accidentally 215:244,30[' ]| inquired of Thorpe, if he knew more of her than her name. 215:244,31[' ]| Thorpe, most happy to be on speaking terms with a man 215:244,32[' ]| of General*Tilney's importance, had been joyfully and 215:244,33[' ]| proudly communicative; ~~ and being at that time not 215:244,34[' ]| only in daily expectation of Morland's engaging Isabella, 215:244,35[' ]| but likewise pretty well resolved upon marrying Catherine 215:244,36[' ]| himself, his vanity induced him to represent the family 215:244,37[' ]| as yet more wealthy than his vanity and avarice had 215:244,38[' ]| made him believe them. With whomsoever he was, or 215:245,01[' ]| was likely to be connected, his own consequence always 215:245,02[' ]| required that theirs should be great, and as his intimacy 215:245,03[' ]| with any acquaintance grew, so regularly grew their 215:245,04[' ]| fortune. The expectations of his friend Morland, therefore, 215:245,05[' ]| from the first over-rated, had ever since his introduction 215:245,06[' ]| to Isabella, been gradually increasing; and by 215:245,07[' ]| merely adding twice as much for the grandeur of the 215:245,08[' ]| moment, by doubling what he chose to think the amount 215:245,09[' ]| of Mr%*Morland's preferment, trebling his private fortune, 215:245,10[' ]| bestowing a rich aunt, and sinking half the children, 215:245,11[' ]| he was able to represent the whole family to the General 215:245,12[' ]| in a most respectable light. For Catherine, however, the 215:245,13[' ]| peculiar object of the General's curiosity, and his own 215:245,14[' ]| speculations, he had yet something more in reserve, and 215:245,15[' ]| the ten or fifteen thousand pounds which her father could 215:245,16[' ]| give her, would be a pretty addition to Mr%*Allen's estate. 215:245,17[' ]| Her intimacy there had made him seriously determine on 215:245,18[' ]| her being handsomely legacied hereafter; and to speak 215:245,19[' ]| of her therefore as the almost acknowledged future 215:245,20[' ]| heiress of Fullerton naturally followed. Upon such 215:245,21[' ]| intelligence the General had proceeded; for never had it 215:245,22[' ]| occurred to him to doubt its authority. Thorpe's interest 215:245,23[' ]| in the family, by his sister's approaching connection with 215:245,24[' ]| one of its members, and his own views on another, (circumstances 215:245,25[' ]| of which he boasted with almost equal openness,) 215:245,26[' ]| seemed sufficient vouchers for his truth; and to 215:245,27[' ]| these were added the absolute facts of the Allens being 215:245,28[' ]| wealthy and childless, of Miss*Morland's being under 215:245,29[' ]| their care, and ~~ as soon as his acquaintance allowed him 215:245,30[' ]| to judge ~~ of their treating her with parental kindness. 215:245,31[' ]| His resolution was soon formed. Already had he discerned 215:245,32[' ]| a liking towards Miss*Morland in the countenance 215:245,33[' ]| of his son; and thankful for Mr%*Thorpe's communication, 215:245,34[' ]| he almost instantly determined to spare no pains in 215:245,35[' ]| weakening his boasted interest and ruining his dearest 215:245,36[' ]| hopes. Catherine herself could not be more ignorant at 215:245,37[' ]| the time of all this, than his own children. Henry and 215:245,38[' ]| Eleanor, perceiving nothing in her situation likely to 215:246,01[' ]| engage their father's particular respect, had seen with 215:246,02[' ]| astonishment the suddenness, continuance and extent 215:246,03[' ]| of his attention; and though latterly, from some hints 215:246,04[' ]| which had accompanied an almost positive command to 215:246,05[' ]| his son of doing every*thing in his power to attach her, 215:246,06[' ]| Henry was convinced of his father's believing it to be an 215:246,07[' ]| advantageous connection, it was not till the late explanation 215:246,08[' ]| at Northanger that they had the smallest idea of the 215:246,09[' ]| false calculations which had hurried him on. That they 215:246,10[' ]| were false, the General had learnt from the very person 215:246,11[' ]| who had suggested them, from Thorpe himself, whom he 215:246,12[' ]| had chanced to meet again in town, and who, under the 215:246,13[' ]| influence of exactly opposite feelings, irritated by 215:246,14[' ]| Catherine's refusal, and yet more by the failure of a very 215:246,15[' ]| recent endeavour to accomplish a reconciliation between 215:246,16[' ]| Morland and Isabella, convinced that they were separated 215:246,17[' ]| for*ever, and spurning a friendship which could be no 215:246,18[' ]| longer serviceable, hastened to contradict all that he had 215:246,19[' ]| said before to the advantage of the Morlands; ~~ 215:246,19@e | confessed 215:246,20@e | himself to have been totally mistaken in his opinion of 215:246,21@e | their circumstances and character, misled by the rhodomontade 215:246,22@e | of his friend to believe his father a man of 215:246,23@e | substance and credit, whereas the transactions of the two 215:246,24@e | or three last weeks proved him to be neither; for after 215:246,25@e | coming eagerly forward on the first overture of a marriage 215:246,26@e | between the families, with the most liberal proposals, he 215:246,27@e | had, on being brought to the point by the shrewdness of 215:246,28@e | the relator, been constrained to acknowledge himself 215:246,29@e | incapable of giving the young people even a decent 215:246,30@e | support. They were, in fact, a necessitous family; 215:246,31@e | numerous too almost beyond example; by no means 215:246,32@e | respected in their own neighbourhood, as he had lately 215:246,33@e | had particular opportunities of discovering; aiming at 215:246,34@e | a style of life which their fortune could not warrant; 215:246,35@e | seeking to better themselves by wealthy connexions; 215:246,36@e | a forward, bragging, scheming race. 215:246,37[' ]| The terrified General pronounced the name of Allen 215:246,38[' ]| with an inquiring look; and here too Thorpe had learnt 215:247,01[' ]| his error. 215:247,01@e | The Allens, he believed, had lived near them 215:247,02@e | too long, and he knew the young man on whom the 215:247,03@e | Fullerton estate must devolve. 215:247,03[' ]| The General needed no 215:247,04[' ]| more. Enraged with almost every*body in the world 215:247,05[' ]| but himself, he set out the next day for the Abbey, where 215:247,06[' ]| his performances have been seen. 215:247,07[' ]| I leave it to my reader's sagacity to determine how 215:247,08[' ]| much of all this it was possible for Henry to communicate 215:247,09[' ]| at this time to Catherine, how much of it he could have 215:247,10[' ]| learnt from his father, in what points his own conjectures 215:247,11[' ]| might assist him, and what portion must yet remain to be 215:247,12[' ]| told in a letter from James. I have united for their ease 215:247,13[' ]| what they must divide for mine. Catherine, at any rate, 215:247,14[' ]| heard enough to feel, that in suspecting General*Tilney of 215:247,15[' ]| either murdering or shutting up his wife, she had scarcely 215:247,16[' ]| sinned against his character, or magnified his cruelty. 215:247,17[' ]| Henry, in having such things to relate of his father, 215:247,18[' ]| was almost as pitiable as in their first avowal to himself. 215:247,19[' ]| He blushed for the narrow-minded counsel which he was 215:247,20[' ]| obliged to expose. The conversation between them at 215:247,21[' ]| Northanger had been of the most unfriendly kind. 215:247,22[' ]| Henry's indignation on hearing how Catherine had been 215:247,23[' ]| treated, on comprehending his father's views, and being 215:247,24[' ]| ordered to acquiesce in them, had been open and bold. 215:247,25[' ]| The General, accustomed on every ordinary occasion to 215:247,26[' ]| give the law in his family, prepared for no reluctance but 215:247,27[' ]| of feeling, no opposing desire that should dare to clothe 215:247,28[' ]| itself in words, could ill brook the opposition of his son, 215:247,29[' ]| steady as the sanction of reason and the dictate of conscience 215:247,30[' ]| could make it. But, in such a case, his anger, 215:247,31[' ]| though it must shock, could not intimidate Henry, who 215:247,32[' ]| was sustained in his purpose by a conviction of its justice. 215:247,33[' ]| He felt himself bound as much in honour as in affection 215:247,34[' ]| to Miss*Morland, and believing that heart to be his own 215:247,35[' ]| which he had been directed to gain, no unworthy retraction 215:247,36[' ]| of a tacit consent, no reversing decree of unjustifiable 215:247,37[' ]| anger, could shake his fidelity, or influence the resolutions 215:247,38[' ]| it prompted. 215:248,01[' ]| He steadily refused to accompany his father into 215:248,02[' ]| Herefordshire, an engagement formed almost at the 215:248,03[' ]| moment, to promote the dismissal of Catherine, and as 215:248,04[' ]| steadily declared his intention of offering her his hand. 215:248,05[' ]| The General was furious in his anger, and they parted in 215:248,06[' ]| dreadful disagreement. Henry, in an agitation of mind 215:248,07[' ]| which many solitary hours were required to compose, had 215:248,08[' ]| returned almost instantly to Woodston; and, on the 215:248,09[' ]| afternoon of the following day, had begun his journey to 215:248,10[' ]| Fullerton. 216:249,01[' ]| Mr% and Mrs%*Morland's surprize on being applied to 216:249,02[' ]| by Mr%*Tilney, for their consent to his marrying their 216:249,03[' ]| daughter, was, for a few minutes, considerable; it having 216:249,04[' ]| never entered their heads to suspect an attachment on 216:249,05[' ]| either side; but as nothing, after all, could be more 216:249,06[' ]| natural than Catherine's being beloved, they soon learnt 216:249,07[' ]| to consider it with only the happy agitation of gratified 216:249,08[' ]| pride, and, as far as they alone were concerned, had not 216:249,09[' ]| a single objection to start. His pleasing manners and 216:249,10[' ]| good sense were self-evident recommendations; and 216:249,11[' ]| having never heard evil of him, it was not their way to 216:249,12[' ]| suppose any evil could be told. Good-will supplying the 216:249,13[' ]| place of experience, his character needed no attestation. 216:249,14[J ]| "Catherine would made a sad heedless young housekeeper 216:249,15[J ]| to be sure," 216:249,15[' ]| was her mother's foreboding remark; 216:249,16[' ]| but quick was the consolation of there being nothing like 216:249,17[' ]| practice. 216:249,18[' ]| There was but one obstacle, in short, to be mentioned; 216:249,19[' ]| but till that one was removed, it must be impossible for 216:249,20[' ]| them to sanction the engagement. Their tempers were 216:249,21[' ]| mild, but their principles were steady, and while his 216:249,22[' ]| parent so expressly forbad the connexion, they could not 216:249,23[' ]| allow themselves to encourage it. That the General 216:249,24[' ]| should come forward to solicit the alliance, or that he 216:249,25[' ]| should even very heartily approve it, they were not 216:249,26[' ]| refined enough to make any parading stipulation; but 216:249,27[' ]| the decent appearance of consent must be yielded, and 216:249,28[' ]| that once obtained ~~ and their own hearts made them 216:249,29[' ]| trust that it could not be very long denied ~~ their willing 216:249,30[' ]| approbation was instantly to follow. His \consent\ was all 216:249,31[' ]| that they wished for. They were no more inclined than 216:249,32[' ]| entitled to demand his \money\. Of a very considerable 216:249,33[' ]| fortune, his son was, by marriage settlements, eventually 216:250,01[' ]| secure; his present income was an income of independence 216:250,02[' ]| and comfort, and under every pecuniary view, it was 216:250,03[' ]| a match beyond the claims of their daughter. 216:250,04[' ]| The young people could not be surprized at a decision 216:250,05[' ]| like this. They felt and they deplored ~~ but they could 216:250,06[' ]| not resent it; and they parted, endeavouring to hope 216:250,07[' ]| that such a change in the General, as each believed 216:250,08[' ]| almost impossible, might speedily take place, to unite 216:250,09[' ]| them again in the fullness of privileged affection. Henry 216:250,10[' ]| returned to what was now his only home, to watch over 216:250,11[' ]| his young plantations, and extend his improvements for 216:250,12[' ]| her sake, to whose share in them he looked anxiously 216:250,13[' ]| forward; and Catherine remained at Fullerton to cry. 216:250,14[' ]| Whether the torments of absence were softened by 216:250,15[' ]| a clandestine correspondence, let us not inquire. Mr% and 216:250,16[' ]| Mrs%*Morland never did ~~ they had been too kind to 216:250,17[' ]| exact any promise; and whenever Catherine received 216:250,18[' ]| a letter, as, at that time, happened pretty often, they 216:250,19[' ]| always looked another way. 216:250,20[' ]| The anxiety, which in this state of their attachment 216:250,21[' ]| must be the portion of Henry and Catherine, and of all 216:250,22[' ]| who loved either, as to its final event, can hardly extend, 216:250,23[' ]| I fear, to the bosom of my readers, who will see in the 216:250,24[' ]| tell-tale compression of the pages before them, that we 216:250,25[' ]| are all hastening together to perfect felicity. The means 216:250,26[' ]| by which their early marriage was effected can be the 216:250,27[' ]| only doubt; what probable circumstance could work 216:250,28[' ]| upon a temper like the General's? The circumstance 216:250,29[' ]| which chiefly availed, was the marriage of his daughter 216:250,30[' ]| with a man of fortune and consequence, which took place 216:250,31[' ]| in the course of the summer ~~ an accession of dignity that 216:250,32[' ]| threw him into a fit of good-humour, from which he did 216:250,33[' ]| not recover till after Eleanor had obtained his forgiveness 216:250,34[' ]| of Henry, and his permission for him 216:250,34[F ]| "to be a fool if he 216:250,35[F ]| liked it!" 216:250,36[' ]| The marriage of Eleanor*Tilney, her removal from all 216:250,37[' ]| the evils of such a home as Northanger had been made 216:250,38[' ]| by Henry's banishment, to the home of her choice and 216:251,01[' ]| the man of her choice, is an event which I expect to give 216:251,02[' ]| general satisfaction among all her acquaintance. My 216:251,03[' ]| own joy on the occasion is very sincere. I know no*one 216:251,04[' ]| more entitled, by unpretending merit, or better prepared 216:251,05[' ]| by habitual suffering, to receive and enjoy felicity. Her 216:251,06[' ]| partiality for this gentleman was not of recent origin; 216:251,07[' ]| and he had been long withheld only by inferiority of 216:251,08[' ]| situation from addressing her. His unexpected accession 216:251,09[' ]| to title and fortune had removed all his difficulties; 216:251,10[' ]| and never had the General loved his daughter so well in 216:251,11[' ]| all her hours of companionship, utility, and patient 216:251,12[' ]| endurance, as when he first hailed her, 216:251,12[F ]| "Your Ladyship!" 216:251,13[' ]| Her husband was really deserving of her; independent 216:251,14[' ]| of his peerage, his wealth and his attachment, being to 216:251,15[' ]| a precision the most charming young man in the world. 216:251,16[' ]| Any further definition of his merits must be unnecessary; 216:251,17[' ]| the most charming young man in the world is instantly 216:251,18[' ]| before the imagination of us all. Concerning the one in 216:251,19[' ]| question therefore I have only to add ~~ (aware that the 216:251,20[' ]| rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character 216:251,21[' ]| not connected with my fable) ~~ that this was the very 216:251,22[' ]| gentleman whose negligent servant left behind him that 216:251,23[' ]| collection of washing-bills, resulting from a long visit at 216:251,24[' ]| Northanger, by which my heroine was involved in one 216:251,25[' ]| of her most alarming adventures. 216:251,26[' ]| The influence of the Viscount and Viscountess in their 216:251,27[' ]| brother's behalf was assisted by that right understanding 216:251,28[' ]| of Mr%*Morland's circumstances which, as soon as the 216:251,29[' ]| General would allow himself to be informed, they were 216:251,30[' ]| qualified to give. It taught him that he had been scarcely 216:251,31[' ]| more misled by Thorpe's first boast of the family wealth, 216:251,32[' ]| than by his subsequent malicious overthrow of it; that 216:251,33[' ]| in no sense of the word were they necessitous or poor, 216:251,34[' ]| and that Catherine would have three thousand pounds. 216:251,35[' ]| This was so material an amendment of his late expectations, 216:251,36[' ]| that it greatly contributed to smooth the descent 216:251,37[' ]| of his pride; and by no means without its effect was the 216:251,38[' ]| private intelligence, which he was at some pains to 216:252,01[' ]| procure, that the Fullerton estate, being entirely at the 216:252,02[' ]| disposal of its present proprietor, was consequently open 216:252,03[' ]| to every greedy speculation. 216:252,04[' ]| On the strength of this, the General, soon after Eleanor's 216:252,05[' ]| marriage, permitted his son to return to Northanger, and 216:252,06[' ]| thence made him the bearer of his consent, very courteously 216:252,07[' ]| worded in a page full of empty professions to Mr%*Morland. 216:252,08[' ]| The event which it authorized soon followed: Henry 216:252,09[' ]| and Catherine were married, the bells rang and every*body 216:252,10[' ]| smiled; and, as this took place within a twelve-month 216:252,11[' ]| from the first day of their meeting, it will not 216:252,12[' ]| appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the 216:252,13[' ]| General's cruelty, that they were essentially hurt by it. 216:252,14[' ]| To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of 216:252,15[' ]| twenty-six and eighteen, is to do pretty well; and professing 216:252,16[' ]| myself moreover convinced, that the General's 216:252,17[' ]| unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to 216:252,18[' ]| their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by 216:252,19[' ]| improving their knowledge of each other, and adding 216:252,20[' ]| strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled by 216:252,21[' ]| whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this 216:252,22[' ]| work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or 216:252,23[' ]| reward filial disobedience.