Northanger Abbey

Jane Austen

The preparer of this public-domain (U.S.) textis unknown. The Project Gutenberg edi-tion (“nabby10”) was converted to LATEX usingGutenMark software and re-edited by RonBurkey. Various corrections—such as restora-tion of italics omitted in the Project Gutenbergedition—were made by consulting an alter-nate on-line edition at etext.lib.virginia.edu.Report problems to info@sandroid.org. Revi-sion B1 differs from B in that “—-” has every-where been replaced by “—”.

Revision: B1Date: 01/27/2008

Contents

ADVERTISEMENT BY THE AUTHORESS 1

CHAPTER 1 3

CHAPTER 2 9

CHAPTER 3 19

CHAPTER 4 27

CHAPTER 5 33

CHAPTER 6 39

CHAPTER 7 47

CHAPTER 8 59

CHAPTER 9 71

CHAPTER 10 85

CHAPTER 11 101

CHAPTER 12 113

CHAPTER 13 121

CHAPTER 14 133

i

ii

CHAPTER 15 147

CHAPTER 16 161

CHAPTER 17 173

CHAPTER 18 179

CHAPTER 19 187

CHAPTER 20 195

CHAPTER 21 209

CHAPTER 22 221

CHAPTER 23 235

CHAPTER 24 245

CHAPTER 25 257

CHAPTER 26 269

CHAPTER 27 279

CHAPTER 28 285

CHAPTER 29 299

CHAPTER 30 313

CHAPTER 31 325

A NOTE ON THE TEXT 331

ADVERTISEMENTBY THEAUTHORESS, TONORTHANGERABBEY

This little work was finished in the year 1803,and intended for immediate publication. Itwas disposed of to a bookseller, it was evenadvertised, and why the business proceededno farther, the author has never been able tolearn.

That any bookseller should think it worth-while to purchase what he did not think itworth-while to publish seems extraordinary.But with this, neither the author nor the pub-lic have any other concern than as some ob-servation is necessary upon those parts of thework which thirteen years have made compar-atively obsolete.

The public are entreated to bear in mindthat thirteen years have passed since it wasfinished, many more since it was begun, and

1

2 NORTHANGER ABBEY

that during that period, places, manners,books, and opinions have undergone consider-able changes.

CHAPTER 1

No one who had ever seen Catherine Mor-land in her infancy would have supposed herborn to be an heroine. Her situation inlife, the character of her father and mother,her own person and disposition, were allequally against her. Her father was a clergy-man, without being neglected, or poor, and avery respectable man, though his name wasRichard—and he had never been handsome.He had a considerable independence besidestwo good livings—and he was not in the leastaddicted to locking up his daughters. Hermother was a woman of useful plain sense,with a good temper, and, what is more re-markable, with a good constitution. She hadthree sons before Catherine was born; and in-stead of dying in bringing the latter into theworld, as anybody might expect, she still livedon—lived to have six children more—to seethem growing up around her, and to enjoy ex-cellent health herself. A family of ten chil-dren will be always called a fine family, wherethere are heads and arms and legs enoughfor the number; but the Morlands had littleother right to the word, for they were in gen-

3

4 NORTHANGER ABBEY

eral very plain, and Catherine, for many yearsof her life, as plain as any. She had a thinawkward figure, a sallow skin without colour,dark lank hair, and strong features—so muchfor her person; and not less unpropiteous forheroism seemed her mind. She was fond of allboy’s plays, and greatly preferred cricket notmerely to dolls, but to the more heroic enjoy-ments of infancy, nursing a dormouse, feedinga canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. In-deed she had no taste for a garden; and ifshe gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly forthe pleasure of mischief—at least so it wasconjectured from her always preferring thosewhich she was forbidden to take. Such wereher propensities—her abilities were quite asextraordinary. She never could learn or un-derstand anything before she was taught; andsometimes not even then, for she was of-ten inattentive, and occasionally stupid. Hermother was three months in teaching her onlyto repeat the “Beggar’s Petition”; and afterall, her next sister, Sally, could say it betterthan she did. Not that Catherine was alwaysstupid—by no means; she learnt the fable of“The Hare and Many Friends” as quickly asany girl in England. Her mother wished herto learn music; and Catherine was sure sheshould like it, for she was very fond of tin-kling the keys of the old forlorn spinner; so,at eight years old she began. She learnt ayear, and could not bear it; and Mrs. Morland,who did not insist on her daughters being ac-complished in spite of incapacity or distaste,allowed her to leave off. The day which dis-

CHAPTER 1 5

missed the music-master was one of the hap-piest of Catherine’s life. Her taste for drawingwas not superior; though whenever she couldobtain the outside of a letter from her motheror seize upon any other odd piece of paper, shedid what she could in that way, by drawinghouses and trees, hens and chickens, all verymuch like one another. Writing and accountsshe was taught by her father; French by hermother: her proficiency in either was not re-markable, and she shirked her lessons in bothwhenever she could. What a strange, unac-countable character!—for with all these symp-toms of profligacy at ten years old, she hadneither a bad heart nor a bad temper, was sel-dom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, andvery kind to the little ones, with few interrup-tions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy andwild, hated confinement and cleanliness, andloved nothing so well in the world as rollingdown the green slope at the back of the house.

Such was Catherine Morland at ten. At fif-teen, appearances were mending; she beganto curl her hair and long for balls; her com-plexion improved, her features were softenedby plumpness and colour, her eyes gainedmore animation, and her figure more conse-quence. Her love of dirt gave way to an in-clination for finery, and she grew clean asshe grew smart; she had now the pleasure ofsometimes hearing her father and mother re-mark on her personal improvement. “Cather-ine grows quite a good-looking girl—she is al-most pretty today,” were words which caughther ears now and then; and how welcome were

6 NORTHANGER ABBEY

the sounds! To look almost pretty is an ac-quisition of higher delight to a girl who hasbeen looking plain the first fifteen years of herlife than a beauty from her cradle can ever re-ceive.

Mrs. Morland was a very good woman, andwished to see her children everything theyought to be; but her time was so much occu-pied in lying-in and teaching the little ones,that her elder daughters were inevitably leftto shift for themselves; and it was not verywonderful that Catherine, who had by na-ture nothing heroic about her, should pre-fer cricket, baseball, riding on horseback,and running about the country at the ageof fourteen, to books—or at least books ofinformation—for, provided that nothing likeuseful knowledge could be gained from them,provided they were all story and no reflection,she had never any objection to books at all.But from fifteen to seventeen she was in train-ing for a heroine; she read all such works asheroines must read to supply their memorieswith those quotations which are so serviceableand so soothing in the vicissitudes of theireventful lives.

From Pope, she learnt to censure thosewho

“bear about the mockery of woe.”

From Gray, that

“Many a flower is born to blush unseen,“And waste its fragrance on the desert air.”

From Thompson, that

CHAPTER 1 7

—“It is a delightful task“To teach the young idea how to shoot.”

And from Shakespeare she gained a greatstore of information—amongst the rest, that

—“Trifles light as air,“Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong,“As proofs of Holy Writ.”

That

“The poor beetle, which we tread upon,“In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great“As when a giant dies.”

And that a young woman in love always looks

—“like Patience on a monument“Smiling at Grief.”

So far her improvement wassufficient—and in many other points shecame on exceedingly well; for though shecould not write sonnets, she brought herselfto read them; and though there seemed nochance of her throwing a whole party intoraptures by a prelude on the pianoforte, ofher own composition, she could listen to otherpeople’s performance with very little fatigue.Her greatest deficiency was in the pencil—shehad no notion of drawing—not enough evento attempt a sketch of her lover’s profile, thatshe might be detected in the design. Thereshe fell miserably short of the true heroicheight. At present she did not know her ownpoverty, for she had no lover to portray. Shehad reached the age of seventeen, withouthaving seen one amiable youth who could

8 NORTHANGER ABBEY

call forth her sensibility, without havinginspired one real passion, and without havingexcited even any admiration but what wasvery moderate and very transient. This wasstrange indeed! But strange things maybe generally accounted for if their cause befairly searched out. There was not one lord inthe neighbourhood; no—not even a baronet.There was not one family among their ac-quaintance who had reared and supporteda boy accidentally found at their door—notone young man whose origin was unknown.Her father had no ward, and the squire of theparish no children.

But when a young lady is to be a heroine,the perverseness of forty surrounding familiescannot prevent her. Something must and willhappen to throw a hero in her way.

Mr. Allen, who owned the chief of theproperty about Fullerton, the village in Wilt-shire where the Morlands lived, was or-dered to Bath for the benefit of a goutyconstitution—and his lady, a good-humouredwoman, fond of Miss Morland, and proba-bly aware that if adventures will not befall ayoung lady in her own village, she must seekthem abroad, invited her to go with them. Mr.and Mrs. Morland were all compliance, andCatherine all happiness.

CHAPTER 2

In addition to what has been already said ofCatherine Morland’s personal and mental en-dowments, when about to be launched intoall the difficulties and dangers of a six weeks’residence in Bath, it may be stated, for thereader’s more certain information, lest the fol-lowing pages should otherwise fail of givingany idea of what her character is meant tobe, that her heart was affectionate; her dis-position cheerful and open, without conceit oraffectation of any kind—her manners just re-moved from the awkwardness and shyness ofa girl; her person pleasing, and, when in goodlooks, pretty—and her mind about as ignorantand uninformed as the female mind at seven-teen usually is.

When the hour of departure drew near, thematernal anxiety of Mrs. Morland will be nat-urally supposed to be most severe. A thousandalarming presentiments of evil to her belovedCatherine from this terrific separation mustoppress her heart with sadness, and drownher in tears for the last day or two of theirbeing together; and advice of the most im-portant and applicable nature must of course

9

10 NORTHANGER ABBEY

flow from her wise lips in their parting con-ference in her closet. Cautions against the vi-olence of such noblemen and baronets as de-light in forcing young ladies away to some re-mote farm-house, must, at such a moment,relieve the fulness of her heart. Who wouldnot think so? But Mrs. Morland knew so lit-tle of lords and baronets, that she entertainedno notion of their general mischievousness,and was wholly unsuspicious of danger to herdaughter from their machinations. Her cau-tions were confined to the following points. “Ibeg, Catherine, you will always wrap your-self up very warm about the throat, when youcome from the rooms at night; and I wish youwould try to keep some account of the moneyyou spend; I will give you this little book onpurpose. ”

Sally, or rather Sarah (for what young ladyof common gentility will reach the age of six-teen without altering her name as far as shecan?), must from situation be at this timethe intimate friend and confidante of her sis-ter. It is remarkable, however, that she nei-ther insisted on Catherine’s writing by ev-ery post, nor exacted her promise of transmit-ting the character of every new acquaintance,nor a detail of every interesting conversationthat Bath might produce. Everything indeedrelative to this important journey was done,on the part of the Morlands, with a degreeof moderation and composure, which seemedrather consistent with the common feelingsof common life, than with the refined sus-ceptibilities, the tender emotions which the

CHAPTER 2 11

first separation of a heroine from her familyought always to excite. Her father, instead ofgiving her an unlimited order on his banker,or even putting an hundred pounds bank-billinto her hands, gave her only ten guineas, andpromised her more when she wanted it.

Under these unpromising auspices, theparting took place, and the journey began. Itwas performed with suitable quietness anduneventful safety. Neither robbers nor tem-pests befriended them, nor one lucky overturnto introduce them to the hero. Nothing morealarming occurred than a fear, on Mrs. Allen’sside, of having once left her clogs behind herat an inn, and that fortunately proved to begroundless.

They arrived at Bath. Catherine wasall eager delight—her eyes were here, there,everywhere, as they approached its fineand striking environs, and afterwards drovethrough those streets which conducted themto the hotel. She was come to be happy, andshe felt happy already.

They were soon settled in comfortablelodgings in Pulteney Street.

It is now expedient to give some descrip-tion of Mrs. Allen, that the reader may beable to judge in what manner her actions willhereafter tend to promote the general distressof the work, and how she will, probably, con-tribute to reduce poor Catherine to all the des-perate wretchedness of which a last volume iscapable—whether by her imprudence, vulgar-ity, or jealousy—whether by intercepting herletters, ruining her character, or turning her

12 NORTHANGER ABBEY

out of doors.Mrs. Allen was one of that numerous class

of females, whose society can raise no otheremotion than surprise at there being any menin the world who could like them well enoughto marry them. She had neither beauty, ge-nius, accomplishment, nor manner. The airof a gentlewoman, a great deal of quiet, inac-tive good temper, and a trifling turn of mindwere all that could account for her being thechoice of a sensible, intelligent man like Mr.Allen. In one respect she was admirably fit-ted to introduce a young lady into public, be-ing as fond of going everywhere and seeing ev-erything herself as any young lady could be.Dress was her passion. She had a most harm-less delight in being fine; and our heroine’sentree into life could not take place till afterthree or four days had been spent in learn-ing what was mostly worn, and her chaper-one was provided with a dress of the newestfashion. Catherine too made some purchasesherself, and when all these matters were ar-ranged, the important evening came whichwas to usher her into the Upper Rooms. Herhair was cut and dressed by the best hand, herclothes put on with care, and both Mrs. Allenand her maid declared she looked quite as sheshould do. With such encouragement, Cather-ine hoped at least to pass uncensured throughthe crowd. As for admiration, it was alwaysvery welcome when it came, but she did notdepend on it.

Mrs. Allen was so long in dressing thatthey did not enter the ballroom till late. The

CHAPTER 2 13

season was full, the room crowded, and thetwo ladies squeezed in as well as they could.As for Mr. Allen, he repaired directly to thecard-room, and left them to enjoy a mob bythemselves. With more care for the safetyof her new gown than for the comfort of herprotegee, Mrs. Allen made her way throughthe throng of men by the door, as swiftly asthe necessary caution would allow; Catherine,however, kept close at her side, and linkedher arm too firmly within her friend’s to betorn asunder by any common effort of a strug-gling assembly. But to her utter amazementshe found that to proceed along the room wasby no means the way to disengage themselvesfrom the crowd; it seemed rather to increaseas they went on, whereas she had imaginedthat when once fairly within the door, theyshould easily find seats and be able to watchthe dances with perfect convenience. Butthis was far from being the case, and thoughby unwearied diligence they gained even thetop of the room, their situation was just thesame; they saw nothing of the dancers butthe high feathers of some of the ladies. Stillthey moved on—something better was yet inview; and by a continued exertion of strengthand ingenuity they found themselves at lastin the passage behind the highest bench. Herethere was something less of crowd than below;and hence Miss Morland had a comprehensiveview of all the company beneath her, and of allthe dangers of her late passage through them.It was a splendid sight, and she began, forthe first time that evening, to feel herself at

14 NORTHANGER ABBEY

a ball: she longed to dance, but she had notan acquaintance in the room. Mrs. Allen didall that she could do in such a case by sayingvery placidly, every now and then, “I wish youcould dance, my dear—I wish you could get apartner.” For some time her young friend feltobliged to her for these wishes; but they wererepeated so often, and proved so totally inef-fectual, that Catherine grew tired at last, andwould thank her no more.

They were not long able, however, to enjoythe repose of the eminence they had so labo-riously gained. Everybody was shortly in mo-tion for tea, and they must squeeze out likethe rest. Catherine began to feel something ofdisappointment—she was tired of being con-tinually pressed against by people, the gen-erality of whose faces possessed nothing to in-terest, and with all of whom she was so whollyunacquainted that she could not relieve theirksomeness of imprisonment by the exchangeof a syllable with any of her fellow captives;and when at last arrived in the tea-room, shefelt yet more the awkwardness of having noparty to join, no acquaintance to claim, nogentleman to assist them. They saw nothingof Mr. Allen; and after looking about them invain for a more eligible situation, were obligedto sit down at the end of a table, at which alarge party were already placed, without hav-ing anything to do there, or anybody to speakto, except each other.

Mrs. Allen congratulated herself, as soonas they were seated, on having preserved hergown from injury. “It would have been very

CHAPTER 2 15

shocking to have it torn,” said she, “would notit? It is such a delicate muslin. For my partI have not seen anything I like so well in thewhole room, I assure you.”

“How uncomfortable it is,” whisperedCatherine, “not to have a single acquaintancehere!”

“Yes, my dear,” replied Mrs. Allen, withperfect serenity, “it is very uncomfortable in-deed.”

“What shall we do? The gentlemen andladies at this table look as if they wonderedwhy we came here—we seem forcing ourselvesinto their party.”

“Aye, so we do. That is very disagreeable. Iwish we had a large acquaintance here.”

“I wish we had any—it would be somebodyto go to.”

“Very true, my dear; and if we knew any-body we would join them directly. The Skin-ners were here last year—I wish they werehere now.”

“Had not we better go away as it is? Hereare no tea-things for us, you see.”

“No more there are, indeed. How very pro-voking! But I think we had better sit still, forone gets so tumbled in such a crowd! How ismy head, my dear? Somebody gave me a pushthat has hurt it, I am afraid.”

“No, indeed, it looks very nice. But, dearMrs. Allen, are you sure there is nobody youknow in all this multitude of people? I thinkyou must know somebody.”

“I don’t, upon my word—I wish I did. Iwish I had a large acquaintance here with all

16 NORTHANGER ABBEY

my heart, and then I should get you a partner.I should be so glad to have you dance. Theregoes a strange-looking woman! What an oddgown she has got on! How old-fashioned it is!Look at the back.”

After some time they received an offer oftea from one of their neighbours; it was thank-fully accepted, and this introduced a light con-versation with the gentleman who offered it,which was the only time that anybody spoketo them during the evening, till they werediscovered and joined by Mr. Allen when thedance was over.

“Well, Miss Morland,” said he, directly, “Ihope you have had an agreeable ball.”

“Very agreeable indeed,” she replied,vainly endeavouring to hide a great yawn.

“I wish she had been able to dance,” saidhis wife; “I wish we could have got a partnerfor her. I have been saying how glad I shouldbe if the Skinners were here this winter in-stead of last; or if the Parrys had come, as theytalked of once, she might have danced withGeorge Parry. I am so sorry she has not had apartner!”

“We shall do better another evening Ihope,” was Mr. Allen’s consolation.

The company began to disperse when thedancing was over—enough to leave space forthe remainder to walk about in some comfort;and now was the time for a heroine, who hadnot yet played a very distinguished part in theevents of the evening, to be noticed and ad-mired. Every five minutes, by removing someof the crowd, gave greater openings for her

CHAPTER 2 17

charms. She was now seen by many youngmen who had not been near her before. Notone, however, started with rapturous wonderon beholding her, no whisper of eager inquiryran round the room, nor was she once calleda divinity by anybody. Yet Catherine was invery good looks, and had the company onlyseen her three years before, they would nowhave thought her exceedingly handsome.

She was looked at, however, and with someadmiration; for, in her own hearing, two gen-tlemen pronounced her to be a pretty girl.Such words had their due effect; she imme-diately thought the evening pleasanter thanshe had found it before—her humble vanitywas contented—she felt more obliged to thetwo young men for this simple praise than atrue-quality heroine would have been for fif-teen sonnets in celebration of her charms, andwent to her chair in good humour with every-body, and perfectly satisfied with her share ofpublic attention.

18 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 3

Every morning now brought its regularduties—shops were to be visited; some newpart of the town to be looked at; and thepump-room to be attended, where they pa-raded up and down for an hour, looking at ev-erybody and speaking to no one. The wish of anumerous acquaintance in Bath was still up-permost with Mrs. Allen, and she repeated itafter every fresh proof, which every morningbrought, of her knowing nobody at all.

They made their appearance in the LowerRooms; and here fortune was more favourableto our heroine. The master of the ceremoniesintroduced to her a very gentlemanlike youngman as a partner; his name was Tilney. Heseemed to be about four or five and twenty,was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance,a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if notquite handsome, was very near it. His ad-dress was good, and Catherine felt herself inhigh luck. There was little leisure for speak-ing while they danced; but when they wereseated at tea, she found him as agreeable asshe had already given him credit for being.He talked with fluency and spirit—and there

19

20 NORTHANGER ABBEY

was an archness and pleasantry in his man-ner which interested, though it was hardlyunderstood by her. After chatting some timeon such matters as naturally arose from theobjects around them, he suddenly addressedher with—“I have hitherto been very remiss,madam, in the proper attentions of a part-ner here; I have not yet asked you how longyou have been in Bath; whether you were everhere before; whether you have been at the Up-per Rooms, the theatre, and the concert; andhow you like the place altogether. I have beenvery negligent—but are you now at leisure tosatisfy me in these particulars? If you are Iwill begin directly.”

“You need not give yourself that trouble,sir.”

“No trouble, I assure you, madam.” Thenforming his features into a set smile, and af-fectedly softening his voice, he added, with asimpering air, “Have you been long in Bath,madam?”

“About a week, sir,” replied Catherine, try-ing not to laugh.

“Really!” with affected astonishment.“Why should you be surprised, sir?”“Why, indeed!” said he, in his natural tone.

“But some emotion must appear to be raisedby your reply, and surprise is more easilyassumed, and not less reasonable than anyother. Now let us go on. Were you never herebefore, madam?”

“Never, sir.”“Indeed! Have you yet honoured the Upper

Rooms?”

CHAPTER 3 21

“Yes, sir, I was there last Monday.”“Have you been to the theatre?”“Yes, sir, I was at the play on Tuesday.”“To the concert?”“Yes, sir, on Wednesday.”“And are you altogether pleased with

Bath?”“Yes—I like it very well.”“Now I must give one smirk, and then we

may be rational again.” Catherine turnedaway her head, not knowing whether shemight venture to laugh. “I see what you thinkof me,” said he gravely—“I shall make but apoor figure in your journal tomorrow.”

“My journal!”“Yes, I know exactly what you will

say: Friday, went to the Lower Rooms;wore my sprigged muslin robe with bluetrimmings—plain black shoes—appeared tomuch advantage; but was strangely harassedby a queer, half-witted man, who would makeme dance with him, and distressed me by hisnonsense.”

“Indeed I shall say no such thing.”“Shall I tell you what you ought to say?”“If you please.”“I danced with a very agreeable young

man, introduced by Mr. King; had a great dealof conversation with him—seems a most ex-traordinary genius—hope I may know more ofhim. That, madam, is what I wish you to say.”

“But, perhaps, I keep no journal.”“Perhaps you are not sitting in this room,

and I am not sitting by you. These are pointsin which a doubt is equally possible. Not keep

22 NORTHANGER ABBEY

a journal! How are your absent cousins to un-derstand the tenour of your life in Bath with-out one? How are the civilities and compli-ments of every day to be related as they oughtto be, unless noted down every evening in ajournal? How are your various dresses to beremembered, and the particular state of yourcomplexion, and curl of your hair to be de-scribed in all their diversities, without hav-ing constant recourse to a journal? My dearmadam, I am not so ignorant of young ladies’ways as you wish to believe me; it is thisdelightful habit of journaling which largelycontributes to form the easy style of writingfor which ladies are so generally celebrated.Everybody allows that the talent of writingagreeable letters is peculiarly female. Naturemay have done something, but I am sure itmust be essentially assisted by the practice ofkeeping a journal.”

“I have sometimes thought,” said Cather-ine, doubtingly, “whether ladies do write somuch better letters than gentlemen! Thatis—I should not think the superiority was al-ways on our side.”

“As far as I have had opportunity of judg-ing, it appears to me that the usual style ofletter-writing among women is faultless, ex-cept in three particulars.”

“And what are they?”“A general deficiency of subject, a total

inattention to stops, and a very frequent ig-norance of grammar.”

“Upon my word! I need not have beenafraid of disclaiming the compliment. You do

CHAPTER 3 23

not think too highly of us in that way.”“I should no more lay it down as a gen-

eral rule that women write better letters thanmen, than that they sing better duets, or drawbetter landscapes. In every power, of whichtaste is the foundation, excellence is prettyfairly divided between the sexes.”

They were interrupted by Mrs. Allen: “Mydear Catherine,” said she, “do take this pin outof my sleeve; I am afraid it has torn a holealready; I shall be quite sorry if it has, for thisis a favourite gown, though it cost but nineshillings a yard.”

“That is exactly what I should haveguessed it, madam,” said Mr. Tilney, lookingat the muslin.

“Do you understand muslins, sir?”“Particularly well; I always buy my own

cravats, and am allowed to be an excellentjudge; and my sister has often trusted me inthe choice of a gown. I bought one for her theother day, and it was pronounced to be a prodi-gious bargain by every lady who saw it. I gavebut five shillings a yard for it, and a true In-dian muslin.”

Mrs. Allen was quite struck by his genius.“Men commonly take so little notice of thosethings,” said she; “I can never get Mr. Allento know one of my gowns from another. Youmust be a great comfort to your sister, sir.”

“I hope I am, madam.”“And pray, sir, what do you think of Miss

Morland’s gown?”“It is very pretty, madam,” said he, gravely

examining it; “but I do not think it will wash

24 NORTHANGER ABBEY

well; I am afraid it will fray.”“How can you,” said Catherine, laughing,

“be so—” She had almost said “strange.”“I am quite of your opinion, sir,” replied

Mrs. Allen; “and so I told Miss Morland whenshe bought it.”

“But then you know, madam, muslin al-ways turns to some account or other; MissMorland will get enough out of it for a hand-kerchief, or a cap, or a cloak. Muslin can neverbe said to be wasted. I have heard my sistersay so forty times, when she has been extrava-gant in buying more than she wanted, or care-less in cutting it to pieces.”

“Bath is a charming place, sir; there areso many good shops here. We are sadly off inthe country; not but what we have very goodshops in Salisbury, but it is so far to go—eightmiles is a long way; Mr. Allen says it is nine,measured nine; but I am sure it cannot bemore than eight; and it is such a fag—I comeback tired to death. Now, here one can stepout of doors and get a thing in five minutes.”

Mr. Tilney was polite enough to seem inter-ested in what she said; and she kept him onthe subject of muslins till the dancing recom-menced. Catherine feared, as she listened totheir discourse, that he indulged himself a lit-tle too much with the foibles of others. “Whatare you thinking of so earnestly?” said he, asthey walked back to the ballroom; “not of yourpartner, I hope, for, by that shake of the head,your meditations are not satisfactory.”

Catherine coloured, and said, “I was notthinking of anything.”

CHAPTER 3 25

“That is artful and deep, to be sure; but Ihad rather be told at once that you will nottell me.”

“Well then, I will not.”“Thank you; for now we shall soon be ac-

quainted, as I am authorized to tease you onthis subject whenever we meet, and nothingin the world advances intimacy so much.”

They danced again; and, when the assem-bly closed, parted, on the lady’s side at least,with a strong inclination for continuing theacquaintance. Whether she thought of himso much, while she drank her warm wineand water, and prepared herself for bed, asto dream of him when there, cannot be ascer-tained; but I hope it was no more than in aslight slumber, or a morning doze at most; forif it be true, as a celebrated writer has main-tained, that no young lady can be justifiedin falling in love before the gentleman’s loveis declared,1 it must be very improper thata young lady should dream of a gentlemanbefore the gentleman is first known to havedreamt of her. How proper Mr. Tilney mightbe as a dreamer or a lover had not yet perhapsentered Mr. Allen’s head, but that he was notobjectionable as a common acquaintance forhis young charge he was on inquiry satisfied;for he had early in the evening taken pains toknow who her partner was, and had been as-sured of Mr. Tilney’s being a clergyman, and ofa very respectable family in Gloucestershire.

1Vide a letter from Mr. Richardson, No. 97, Vol. II,Rambler.

26 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 4

With more than usual eagerness did Cather-ine hasten to the pump-room the next day, se-cure within herself of seeing Mr. Tilney therebefore the morning were over, and ready tomeet him with a smile; but no smile wasdemanded—Mr. Tilney did not appear. Ev-ery creature in Bath, except himself, was tobe seen in the room at different periods of thefashionable hours; crowds of people were ev-ery moment passing in and out, up the stepsand down; people whom nobody cared about,and nobody wanted to see; and he only was ab-sent. “What a delightful place Bath is,” saidMrs. Allen as they sat down near the greatclock, after parading the room till they weretired; “and how pleasant it would be if we hadany acquaintance here.”

This sentiment had been uttered so oftenin vain that Mrs. Allen had no particular rea-son to hope it would be followed with moreadvantage now; but we are told to “despairof nothing we would attain,” as “unwearieddiligence our point would gain”; and the un-wearied diligence with which she had everyday wished for the same thing was at length

27

28 NORTHANGER ABBEY

to have its just reward, for hardly had shebeen seated ten minutes before a lady of abouther own age, who was sitting by her, andhad been looking at her attentively for sev-eral minutes, addressed her with great com-plaisance in these words: “I think, madam, Icannot be mistaken; it is a long time since Ihad the pleasure of seeing you, but is not yourname Allen?” This question answered, as itreadily was, the stranger pronounced hers tobe Thorpe; and Mrs. Allen immediately recog-nized the features of a former schoolfellow andintimate, whom she had seen only once sincetheir respective marriages, and that manyyears ago. Their joy on this meeting was verygreat, as well it might, since they had beencontented to know nothing of each other forthe last fifteen years. Compliments on goodlooks now passed; and, after observing howtime had slipped away since they were last to-gether, how little they had thought of meetingin Bath, and what a pleasure it was to see anold friend, they proceeded to make inquiriesand give intelligence as to their families, sis-ters, and cousins, talking both together, farmore ready to give than to receive informa-tion, and each hearing very little of what theother said. Mrs. Thorpe, however, had onegreat advantage as a talker, over Mrs. Allen,in a family of children; and when she expati-ated on the talents of her sons, and the beautyof her daughters, when she related their dif-ferent situations and views—that John wasat Oxford, Edward at Merchant Taylors’, andWilliam at sea—and all of them more beloved

CHAPTER 4 29

and respected in their different station thanany other three beings ever were, Mrs. Allenhad no similar information to give, no similartriumphs to press on the unwilling and unbe-lieving ear of her friend, and was forced to sitand appear to listen to all these maternal ef-fusions, consoling herself, however, with thediscovery, which her keen eye soon made, thatthe lace on Mrs. Thorpe’s pelisse was not halfso handsome as that on her own.

“Here come my dear girls,” cried Mrs.Thorpe, pointing at three smart-looking fe-males who, arm in arm, were then moving to-wards her. “My dear Mrs. Allen, I long to in-troduce them; they will be so delighted to seeyou: the tallest is Isabella, my eldest; is notshe a fine young woman? The others are verymuch admired too, but I believe Isabella is thehandsomest.”

The Miss Thorpes were introduced; andMiss Morland, who had been for a short timeforgotten, was introduced likewise. The nameseemed to strike them all; and, after speak-ing to her with great civility, the eldest younglady observed aloud to the rest, “How exces-sively like her brother Miss Morland is!”

“The very picture of him indeed!” cried themother—and “I should have known her any-where for his sister!” was repeated by themall, two or three times over. For a momentCatherine was surprised; but Mrs. Thorpeand her daughters had scarcely begun thehistory of their acquaintance with Mr. JamesMorland, before she remembered that her el-dest brother had lately formed an intimacy

30 NORTHANGER ABBEY

with a young man of his own college, of thename of Thorpe; and that he had spent thelast week of the Christmas vacation with hisfamily, near London.

The whole being explained, many obligingthings were said by the Miss Thorpes of theirwish of being better acquainted with her; ofbeing considered as already friends, throughthe friendship of their brothers, etc., whichCatherine heard with pleasure, and answeredwith all the pretty expressions she could com-mand; and, as the first proof of amity, shewas soon invited to accept an arm of the el-dest Miss Thorpe, and take a turn with herabout the room. Catherine was delightedwith this extension of her Bath acquaintance,and almost forgot Mr. Tilney while she talkedto Miss Thorpe. Friendship is certainly thefinest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.

Their conversation turned upon those sub-jects, of which the free discussion has gen-erally much to do in perfecting a sudden in-timacy between two young ladies: such asdress, balls, flirtations, and quizzes. MissThorpe, however, being four years older thanMiss Morland, and at least four years bet-ter informed, had a very decided advantagein discussing such points; she could comparethe balls of Bath with those of Tunbridge, itsfashions with the fashions of London; couldrectify the opinions of her new friend in manyarticles of tasteful attire; could discover a flir-tation between any gentleman and lady whoonly smiled on each other; and point out aquiz through the thickness of a crowd. These

CHAPTER 4 31

powers received due admiration from Cather-ine, to whom they were entirely new; and therespect which they naturally inspired mighthave been too great for familiarity, had notthe easy gaiety of Miss Thorpe’s manners, andher frequent expressions of delight on thisacquaintance with her, softened down everyfeeling of awe, and left nothing but tender af-fection. Their increasing attachment was notto be satisfied with half a dozen turns in thepump-room, but required, when they all quit-ted it together, that Miss Thorpe should ac-company Miss Morland to the very door ofMr. Allen’s house; and that they should therepart with a most affectionate and lengthenedshake of hands, after learning, to their mutualrelief, that they should see each other acrossthe theatre at night, and say their prayers inthe same chapel the next morning. Catherinethen ran directly upstairs, and watched MissThorpe’s progress down the street from thedrawing-room window; admired the gracefulspirit of her walk, the fashionable air of herfigure and dress; and felt grateful, as well shemight, for the chance which had procured hersuch a friend.

Mrs. Thorpe was a widow, and not avery rich one; she was a good-humoured,well-meaning woman, and a very indulgentmother. Her eldest daughter had great per-sonal beauty, and the younger ones, by pre-tending to be as handsome as their sister, imi-tating her air, and dressing in the same style,did very well.

This brief account of the family is in-

32 NORTHANGER ABBEY

tended to supersede the necessity of a longand minute detail from Mrs. Thorpe herself,of her past adventures and sufferings, whichmight otherwise be expected to occupy thethree or four following chapters; in which theworthlessness of lords and attornies mightbe set forth, and conversations, which hadpassed twenty years before, be minutely re-peated.

CHAPTER 5

Catherine was not so much engaged at thetheatre that evening, in returning the nodsand smiles of Miss Thorpe, though they cer-tainly claimed much of her leisure, as to forgetto look with an inquiring eye for Mr. Tilneyin every box which her eye could reach; butshe looked in vain. Mr. Tilney was no fonderof the play than the pump-room. She hopedto be more fortunate the next day; and whenher wishes for fine weather were answeredby seeing a beautiful morning, she hardlyfelt a doubt of it; for a fine Sunday in Bathempties every house of its inhabitants, andall the world appears on such an occasion towalk about and tell their acquaintance whata charming day it is.

As soon as divine service was over, theThorpes and Allens eagerly joined each other;and after staying long enough in the pump-room to discover that the crowd was insup-portable, and that there was not a genteelface to be seen, which everybody discovers ev-ery Sunday throughout the season, they has-tened away to the Crescent, to breathe thefresh air of better company. Here Cather-

33

34 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ine and Isabella, arm in arm, again tastedthe sweets of friendship in an unreserved con-versation; they talked much, and with muchenjoyment; but again was Catherine disap-pointed in her hope of reseeing her partner.He was nowhere to be met with; every searchfor him was equally unsuccessful, in morninglounges or evening assemblies; neither at theUpper nor Lower Rooms, at dressed or un-dressed balls, was he perceivable; nor amongthe walkers, the horsemen, or the curricle-drivers of the morning. His name was not inthe pump-room book, and curiosity could dono more. He must be gone from Bath. Yet hehad not mentioned that his stay would be soshort! This sort of mysteriousness, which isalways so becoming in a hero, threw a freshgrace in Catherine’s imagination around hisperson and manners, and increased her anx-iety to know more of him. From the Thor-pes she could learn nothing, for they had beenonly two days in Bath before they met withMrs. Allen. It was a subject, however, in whichshe often indulged with her fair friend, fromwhom she received every possible encourage-ment to continue to think of him; and his im-pression on her fancy was not suffered there-fore to weaken. Isabella was very sure thathe must be a charming young man, and wasequally sure that he must have been delightedwith her dear Catherine, and would thereforeshortly return. She liked him the better forbeing a clergyman, “for she must confess her-self very partial to the profession”; and some-thing like a sigh escaped her as she said it.

CHAPTER 5 35

Perhaps Catherine was wrong in not demand-ing the cause of that gentle emotion––but shewas not experienced enough in the finesse oflove, or the duties of friendship, to know whendelicate raillery was properly called for, orwhen a confidence should be forced.

Mrs. Allen was now quite happy—quitesatisfied with Bath. She had found some ac-quaintance, had been so lucky too as to find inthem the family of a most worthy old friend;and, as the completion of good fortune, hadfound these friends by no means so expen-sively dressed as herself. Her daily expres-sions were no longer, “I wish we had someacquaintance in Bath!” They were changedinto, “How glad I am we have met with Mrs.Thorpe!” and she was as eager in promotingthe intercourse of the two families, as heryoung charge and Isabella themselves couldbe; never satisfied with the day unless shespent the chief of it by the side of Mrs. Thorpe,in what they called conversation, but in whichthere was scarcely ever any exchange of opin-ion, and not often any resemblance of subject,for Mrs. Thorpe talked chiefly of her children,and Mrs. Allen of her gowns.

The progress of the friendship betweenCatherine and Isabella was quick as its be-ginning had been warm, and they passed sorapidly through every gradation of increas-ing tenderness that there was shortly no freshproof of it to be given to their friends or them-selves. They called each other by their Chris-tian name, were always arm in arm whenthey walked, pinned up each other’s train for

36 NORTHANGER ABBEY

the dance, and were not to be divided in theset; and if a rainy morning deprived them ofother enjoyments, they were still resolute inmeeting in defiance of wet and dirt, and shutthemselves up, to read novels together. Yes,novels; for I will not adopt that ungenerousand impolitic custom so common with novel-writers, of degrading by their contemptuouscensure the very performances, to the numberof which they are themselves adding—joiningwith their greatest enemies in bestowing theharshest epithets on such works, and scarcelyever permitting them to be read by their ownheroine, who, if she accidentally take up anovel, is sure to turn over its insipid pageswith disgust. Alas! If the heroine of one novelbe not patronized by the heroine of another,from whom can she expect protection and re-gard? I cannot approve of it. Let us leaveit to the reviewers to abuse such effusionsof fancy at their leisure, and over every newnovel to talk in threadbare strains of the trashwith which the press now groans. Let us notdesert one another; we are an injured body.Although our productions have afforded moreextensive and unaffected pleasure than thoseof any other literary corporation in the world,no species of composition has been so muchdecried. From pride, ignorance, or fashion,our foes are almost as many as our readers.And while the abilities of the nine-hundredthabridger of the History of England, or of theman who collects and publishes in a volumesome dozen lines of Milton, Pope, and Prior,with a paper from the Spectator, and a chap-

CHAPTER 5 37

ter from Sterne, are eulogized by a thousandpens—there seems almost a general wish ofdecrying the capacity and undervaluing thelabour of the novelist, and of slighting the per-formances which have only genius, wit, andtaste to recommend them. “I am no novel-reader—I seldom look into novels—Do notimagine that I often read novels—It is reallyvery well for a novel.” Such is the commoncant. “And what are you reading, Miss—?”“Oh! It is only a novel!” replies the younglady, while she lays down her book with af-fected indifference, or momentary shame. “Itis only Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda”; or, inshort, only some work in which the greatestpowers of the mind are displayed, in whichthe most thorough knowledge of human na-ture, the happiest delineation of its varieties,the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, areconveyed to the world in the best-chosen lan-guage. Now, had the same young lady beenengaged with a volume of the Spectator, in-stead of such a work, how proudly would shehave produced the book, and told its name;though the chances must be against her beingoccupied by any part of that voluminous pub-lication, of which either the matter or man-ner would not disgust a young person of taste:the substance of its papers so often consistingin the statement of improbable circumstances,unnatural characters, and topics of conversa-tion which no longer concern anyone living;and their language, too, frequently so coarseas to give no very favourable idea of the agethat could endure it.

38 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 6

The following conversation, which took placebetween the two friends in the pump-roomone morning, after an acquaintance of eight ornine days, is given as a specimen of their verywarm attachment, and of the delicacy, discre-tion, originality of thought, and literary tastewhich marked the reasonableness of that at-tachment.

They met by appointment; and as Isabellahad arrived nearly five minutes before herfriend, her first address naturally was, “Mydearest creature, what can have made you solate? I have been waiting for you at least thisage!”

“Have you, indeed! I am very sorry for it;but really I thought I was in very good time. Itis but just one. I hope you have not been herelong?”

“Oh! These ten ages at least. I am sure Ihave been here this half hour. But now, letus go and sit down at the other end of theroom, and enjoy ourselves. I have an hun-dred things to say to you. In the first place, Iwas so afraid it would rain this morning, justas I wanted to set off; it looked very showery,

39

40 NORTHANGER ABBEY

and that would have thrown me into agonies!Do you know, I saw the prettiest hat you canimagine, in a shop window in Milsom Streetjust now—very like yours, only with coqueli-cot ribbons instead of green; I quite longedfor it. But, my dearest Catherine, what haveyou been doing with yourself all this morning?Have you gone on with Udolpho?”

“Yes, I have been reading it ever since Iwoke; and I am got to the black veil.”

“Are you, indeed? How delightful! Oh! Iwould not tell you what is behind the blackveil for the world! Are not you wild to know?”

“Oh! Yes, quite; what can it be? But donot tell me—I would not be told upon any ac-count. I know it must be a skeleton, I amsure it is Laurentina’s skeleton. Oh! I am de-lighted with the book! I should like to spendmy whole life in reading it. I assure you, ifit had not been to meet you, I would not havecome away from it for all the world.”

“Dear creature! How much I am obligedto you; and when you have finished Udolpho,we will read the Italian together; and I havemade out a list of ten or twelve more of thesame kind for you.”

“Have you, indeed! How glad I am! Whatare they all?”

“I will read you their names directly; herethey are, in my pocketbook. Castle of Wolfen-bach, Clermont, Mysterious Warnings, Necro-mancer of the Black Forest, Midnight Bell,Orphan of the Rhine, and Horrid Mysteries.Those will last us some time.”

“Yes, pretty well; but are they all horrid,

CHAPTER 6 41

are you sure they are all horrid?”“Yes, quite sure; for a particular friend of

mine, a Miss Andrews, a sweet girl, one of thesweetest creatures in the world, has read ev-ery one of them. I wish you knew Miss An-drews, you would be delighted with her. Sheis netting herself the sweetest cloak you canconceive. I think her as beautiful as an angel,and I am so vexed with the men for not ad-miring her! I scold them all amazingly aboutit.”

“Scold them! Do you scold them for not ad-miring her?”

“Yes, that I do. There is nothing I wouldnot do for those who are really my friends. Ihave no notion of loving people by halves; itis not my nature. My attachments are alwaysexcessively strong. I told Captain Hunt at oneof our assemblies this winter that if he wasto tease me all night, I would not dance withhim, unless he would allow Miss Andrews tobe as beautiful as an angel. The men thinkus incapable of real friendship, you know, andI am determined to show them the difference.Now, if I were to hear anybody speak slight-ingly of you, I should fire up in a moment: butthat is not at all likely, for you are just thekind of girl to be a great favourite with themen.”

“Oh, dear!” cried Catherine, colouring.“How can you say so?”

“I know you very well; you have so muchanimation, which is exactly what Miss An-drews wants, for I must confess there is some-thing amazingly insipid about her. Oh! I

42 NORTHANGER ABBEY

must tell you, that just after we parted yes-terday, I saw a young man looking at youso earnestly—I am sure he is in love withyou.” Catherine coloured, and disclaimedagain. Isabella laughed. “It is very true,upon my honour, but I see how it is; you areindifferent to everybody’s admiration, exceptthat of one gentleman, who shall be name-less. Nay, I cannot blame you”—speakingmore seriously—“your feelings are easily un-derstood. Where the heart is really attached,I know very well how little one can be pleasedwith the attention of anybody else. Every-thing is so insipid, so uninteresting, that doesnot relate to the beloved object! I can perfectlycomprehend your feelings.”

“But you should not persuade me that Ithink so very much about Mr. Tilney, for per-haps I may never see him again.”

“Not see him again! My dearest creature,do not talk of it. I am sure you would be mis-erable if you thought so!”

“No, indeed, I should not. I do not pretendto say that I was not very much pleased withhim; but while I have Udolpho to read, I feelas if nobody could make me miserable. Oh!The dreadful black veil! My dear Isabella, Iam sure there must be Laurentina’s skeletonbehind it.”

“It is so odd to me, that you should neverhave read Udolpho before; but I suppose Mrs.Morland objects to novels.”

“No, she does not. She very often reads SirCharles Grandison herself; but new books donot fall in our way.”

CHAPTER 6 43

“Sir Charles Grandison! That is an amaz-ing horrid book, is it not? I remember MissAndrews could not get through the first vol-ume.”

“It is not like Udolpho at all; but yet I thinkit is very entertaining.”

“Do you indeed! You surprise me; I thoughtit had not been readable. But, my dearestCatherine, have you settled what to wear onyour head tonight? I am determined at allevents to be dressed exactly like you. The mentake notice of that sometimes, you know.”

“But it does not signify if they do,” saidCatherine, very innocently.

“Signify! Oh, heavens! I make it a rulenever to mind what they say. They are very of-ten amazingly impertinent if you do not treatthem with spirit, and make them keep theirdistance.”

“Are they? Well, I never observed that.They always behave very well to me.”

“Oh! They give themselves such airs. Theyare the most conceited creatures in the world,and think themselves of so much importance!By the by, though I have thought of it a hun-dred times, I have always forgot to ask youwhat is your favourite complexion in a man.Do you like them best dark or fair?”

“I hardly know. I never much thoughtabout it. Something between both, I think.Brown—not fair, and—and not very dark.”

“Very well, Catherine. That is exactlyhe. I have not forgot your description of Mr.Tilney—‘a brown skin, with dark eyes, andrather dark hair.’ Well, my taste is different.

44 NORTHANGER ABBEY

I prefer light eyes, and as to complexion—doyou know—I like a sallow better than anyother. You must not betray me, if you shouldever meet with one of your acquaintance an-swering that description.”

“Betray you! What do you mean?”“Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have

said too much. Let us drop the subject.”Catherine, in some amazement, complied,

and after remaining a few moments silent,was on the point of reverting to what inter-ested her at that time rather more than any-thing else in the world, Laurentina’s skeleton,when her friend prevented her, by saying, “Forheaven’s sake! Let us move away from thisend of the room. Do you know, there are twoodious young men who have been staring atme this half hour. They really put me quiteout of countenance. Let us go and look at thearrivals. They will hardly follow us there.”

Away they walked to the book; and whileIsabella examined the names, it was Cather-ine’s employment to watch the proceedings ofthese alarming young men.

“They are not coming this way, are they? Ihope they are not so impertinent as to followus. Pray let me know if they are coming. I amdetermined I will not look up.”

In a few moments Catherine, with unaf-fected pleasure, assured her that she need notbe longer uneasy, as the gentlemen had justleft the pump-room.

“And which way are they gone?” said Is-abella, turning hastily round. “One was a verygood-looking young man.”

CHAPTER 6 45

“They went towards the church-yard.”“Well, I am amazingly glad I have got rid

of them! And now, what say you to going toEdgar’s Buildings with me, and looking at mynew hat? You said you should like to see it.”

Catherine readily agreed. “Only,” sheadded, “perhaps we may overtake the twoyoung men.”

“Oh! Never mind that. If we make haste,we shall pass by them presently, and I am dy-ing to show you my hat.”

“But if we only wait a few minutes, therewill be no danger of our seeing them at all.”

“I shall not pay them any such compli-ment, I assure you. I have no notion of treat-ing men with such respect. That is the way tospoil them.”

Catherine had nothing to oppose againstsuch reasoning; and therefore, to show the in-dependence of Miss Thorpe, and her resolu-tion of humbling the sex, they set off immedi-ately as fast as they could walk, in pursuit ofthe two young men.

46 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 7

Half a minute conducted them through thepump-yard to the archway, opposite UnionPassage; but here they were stopped. Ev-erybody acquainted with Bath may rememberthe difficulties of crossing Cheap Street at thispoint; it is indeed a street of so impertinent anature, so unfortunately connected with thegreat London and Oxford roads, and the prin-cipal inn of the city, that a day never passesin which parties of ladies, however importanttheir business, whether in quest of pastry,millinery, or even (as in the present case) ofyoung men, are not detained on one side orother by carriages, horsemen, or carts. Thisevil had been felt and lamented, at least threetimes a day, by Isabella since her residencein Bath; and she was now fated to feel andlament it once more, for at the very momentof coming opposite to Union Passage, andwithin view of the two gentlemen who wereproceeding through the crowds, and thread-ing the gutters of that interesting alley, theywere prevented crossing by the approach of agig, driven along on bad pavement by a mostknowing-looking coachman with all the vehe-

47

48 NORTHANGER ABBEY

mence that could most fitly endanger the livesof himself, his companion, and his horse.

“Oh, these odious gigs!” said Isabella, look-ing up. “How I detest them.” But this detesta-tion, though so just, was of short duration, forshe looked again and exclaimed, “Delightful!Mr. Morland and my brother!”

“Good heaven! ’Tis James!” was utteredat the same moment by Catherine; and, oncatching the young men’s eyes, the horse wasimmediately checked with a violence which al-most threw him on his haunches, and the ser-vant having now scampered up, the gentle-men jumped out, and the equipage was deliv-ered to his care.

Catherine, by whom this meeting waswholly unexpected, received her brother withthe liveliest pleasure; and he, being of a veryamiable disposition, and sincerely attached toher, gave every proof on his side of equal sat-isfaction, which he could have leisure to do,while the bright eyes of Miss Thorpe were in-cessantly challenging his notice; and to herhis devoirs were speedily paid, with a mixtureof joy and embarrassment which might haveinformed Catherine, had she been more ex-pert in the development of other people’s feel-ings, and less simply engrossed by her own,that her brother thought her friend quite aspretty as she could do herself.

John Thorpe, who in the meantime hadbeen giving orders about the horses, soonjoined them, and from him she directly re-ceived the amends which were her due; forwhile he slightly and carelessly touched the

CHAPTER 7 49

hand of Isabella, on her he bestowed a wholescrape and half a short bow. He was a stoutyoung man of middling height, who, with aplain face and ungraceful form, seemed fear-ful of being too handsome unless he wore thedress of a groom, and too much like a gentle-man unless he were easy where he ought tobe civil, and impudent where he might be al-lowed to be easy. He took out his watch: “Howlong do you think we have been running itfrom Tetbury, Miss Morland?”

“I do not know the distance.” Her brothertold her that it was twenty-three miles.

“Three and twenty!” cried Thorpe. “Fiveand twenty if it is an inch.” Morland remon-strated, pleaded the authority of road-books,innkeepers, and milestones; but his friend dis-regarded them all; he had a surer test of dis-tance. “I know it must be five and twenty,”said he, “by the time we have been doing it.It is now half after one; we drove out of theinn-yard at Tetbury as the town clock struckeleven; and I defy any man in England tomake my horse go less than ten miles an hourin harness; that makes it exactly twenty-five.”

“You have lost an hour,” said Morland; “itwas only ten o’clock when we came from Tet-bury.”

“Ten o’clock! It was eleven, upon my soul!I counted every stroke. This brother of yourswould persuade me out of my senses, MissMorland; do but look at my horse; did you eversee an animal so made for speed in your life?”(The servant had just mounted the carriageand was driving off.) “Such true blood! Three

50 NORTHANGER ABBEY

hours and and a half indeed coming only threeand twenty miles! Look at that creature, andsuppose it possible if you can.”

“He does look very hot, to be sure.”“Hot! He had not turned a hair till we

came to Walcot Church; but look at his fore-hand; look at his loins; only see how he moves;that horse cannot go less than ten miles anhour: tie his legs and he will get on. Whatdo you think of my gig, Miss Morland? Aneat one, is not it? Well hung; town-built; Ihave not had it a month. It was built for aChristchurch man, a friend of mine, a verygood sort of fellow; he ran it a few weeks, till,I believe, it was convenient to have done withit. I happened just then to be looking out forsome light thing of the kind, though I hadpretty well determined on a curricle too; butI chanced to meet him on Magdalen Bridge,as he was driving into Oxford, last term: ‘Ah!Thorpe,’ said he, ‘do you happen to want sucha little thing as this? It is a capital one ofthe kind, but I am cursed tired of it.’ ‘Oh!D——,’ said I; ‘I am your man; what do youask?’ And how much do you think he did, MissMorland?”

“I am sure I cannot guess at all.”“Curricle-hung, you see; seat, trunk,

sword-case, splashing-board, lamps, silvermoulding, all you see complete; the iron-workas good as new, or better. He asked fiftyguineas; I closed with him directly, threwdown the money, and the carriage was mine.”

“And I am sure,” said Catherine, “I knowso little of such things that I cannot judge

CHAPTER 7 51

whether it was cheap or dear.”“Neither one nor t’other; I might have got

it for less, I dare say; but I hate haggling, andpoor Freeman wanted cash.”

“That was very good-natured of you,” saidCatherine, quite pleased.

“Oh! D—— it, when one has the means ofdoing a kind thing by a friend, I hate to bepitiful.”

An inquiry now took place into the in-tended movements of the young ladies; and,on finding whither they were going, it was de-cided that the gentlemen should accompanythem to Edgar’s Buildings, and pay their re-spects to Mrs. Thorpe. James and Isabella ledthe way; and so well satisfied was the latterwith her lot, so contentedly was she endeav-ouring to ensure a pleasant walk to him whobrought the double recommendation of beingher brother’s friend, and her friend’s brother,so pure and uncoquettish were her feelings,that, though they overtook and passed the twooffending young men in Milsom Street, shewas so far from seeking to attract their notice,that she looked back at them only three times.

John Thorpe kept of course with Cather-ine, and, after a few minutes’ silence, renewedthe conversation about his gig. “You will find,however, Miss Morland, it would be reckoneda cheap thing by some people, for I mighthave sold it for ten guineas more the next day;Jackson, of Oriel, bid me sixty at once; Mor-land was with me at the time.”

“Yes,” said Morland, who overheard this;“but you forget that your horse was included.”

52 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“My horse! Oh, d—— it! I would not sellmy horse for a hundred. Are you fond of anopen carriage, Miss Morland?”

“Yes, very; I have hardly ever an opportu-nity of being in one; but I am particularly fondof it.”

“I am glad of it; I will drive you out in mineevery day.”

“Thank you,” said Catherine, in some dis-tress, from a doubt of the propriety of accept-ing such an offer.

“I will drive you up Lansdown Hill tomor-row.”

“Thank you; but will not your horse wantrest?”

“Rest! He has only come three and twentymiles today; all nonsense; nothing ruinshorses so much as rest; nothing knocks themup so soon. No, no; I shall exercise mine atthe average of four hours every day while Iam here.”

“Shall you indeed!” said Catherine very se-riously. “That will be forty miles a day.”

“Forty! Aye, fifty, for what I care. Well, Iwill drive you up Lansdown tomorrow; mind,I am engaged.”

“How delightful that will be!” cried Is-abella, turning round. “My dearest Catherine,I quite envy you; but I am afraid, brother, youwill not have room for a third.”

“A third indeed! No, no; I did not come toBath to drive my sisters about; that would bea good joke, faith! Morland must take care ofyou.”

This brought on a dialogue of civilities be-

CHAPTER 7 53

tween the other two; but Catherine heard nei-ther the particulars nor the result. Her com-panion’s discourse now sunk from its hith-erto animated pitch to nothing more than ashort decisive sentence of praise or condem-nation on the face of every woman they met;and Catherine, after listening and agreeingas long as she could, with all the civility anddeference of the youthful female mind, fear-ful of hazarding an opinion of its own in op-position to that of a self-assured man, espe-cially where the beauty of her own sex is con-cerned, ventured at length to vary the subjectby a question which had been long uppermostin her thoughts; it was, “Have you ever readUdolpho, Mr. Thorpe?”

“Udolpho! Oh, Lord! Not I; I never readnovels; I have something else to do.”

Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was go-ing to apologize for her question, but he pre-vented her by saying, “Novels are all so full ofnonsense and stuff; there has not been a toler-ably decent one come out since Tom Jones, ex-cept The Monk; I read that t’other day; but asfor all the others, they are the stupidest thingsin creation.”

“I think you must like Udolpho, if you wereto read it; it is so very interesting.”

“Not I, faith! No, if I read any, it shallbe Mrs. Radcliffe’s; her novels are amusingenough; they are worth reading; some fun andnature in them.”

“Udolpho was written by Mrs. Radcliffe,”said Catherine, with some hesitation, fromthe fear of mortifying him.

54 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“No sure; was it? Aye, I remember, so itwas; I was thinking of that other stupid book,written by that woman they make such a fussabout, she who married the French emigrant.”

“I suppose you mean Camilla?”“Yes, that’s the book; such unnatural stuff!

An old man playing at see-saw, I took up thefirst volume once and looked it over, but I soonfound it would not do; indeed I guessed whatsort of stuff it must be before I saw it: as soonas I heard she had married an emigrant, I wassure I should never be able to get through it.”

“I have never read it.”“You had no loss, I assure you; it is the

horridest nonsense you can imagine; there isnothing in the world in it but an old man’splaying at see-saw and learning Latin; uponmy soul there is not.”

This critique, the justness of which was un-fortunately lost on poor Catherine, broughtthem to the door of Mrs. Thorpe’s lodgings,and the feelings of the discerning and unprej-udiced reader of Camilla gave way to the feel-ings of the dutiful and affectionate son, asthey met Mrs. Thorpe, who had descried themfrom above, in the passage. “Ah, Mother! Howdo you do?” said he, giving her a hearty shakeof the hand. “Where did you get that quiz ofa hat? It makes you look like an old witch.Here is Morland and I come to stay a few dayswith you, so you must look out for a coupleof good beds somewhere near.” And this ad-dress seemed to satisfy all the fondest wishesof the mother’s heart, for she received himwith the most delighted and exulting affec-

CHAPTER 7 55

tion. On his two younger sisters he then be-stowed an equal portion of his fraternal ten-derness, for he asked each of them how theydid, and observed that they both looked veryugly.

These manners did not please Cather-ine; but he was James’s friend and Isabella’sbrother; and her judgment was further boughtoff by Isabella’s assuring her, when they with-drew to see the new hat, that John thoughther the most charming girl in the world, andby John’s engaging her before they parted todance with him that evening. Had she beenolder or vainer, such attacks might have donelittle; but, where youth and diffidence areunited, it requires uncommon steadiness ofreason to resist the attraction of being calledthe most charming girl in the world, and ofbeing so very early engaged as a partner; andthe consequence was that, when the two Mor-lands, after sitting an hour with the Thor-pes, set off to walk together to Mr. Allen’s,and James, as the door was closed on them,said, “Well, Catherine, how do you like myfriend Thorpe?” instead of answering, as sheprobably would have done, had there been nofriendship and no flattery in the case, “I donot like him at all,” she directly replied, “I likehim very much; he seems very agreeable.”

“He is as good-natured a fellow as everlived; a little of a rattle; but that will recom-mend him to your sex, I believe: and how doyou like the rest of the family?”

“Very, very much indeed: Isabella particu-larly.”

56 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“I am very glad to hear you say so; she isjust the kind of young woman I could wish tosee you attached to; she has so much goodsense, and is so thoroughly unaffected andamiable; I always wanted you to know her;and she seems very fond of you. She said thehighest things in your praise that could pos-sibly be; and the praise of such a girl as MissThorpe even you, Catherine,” taking her handwith affection, “may be proud of.”

“Indeed I am,” she replied; “I love her ex-ceedingly, and am delighted to find that youlike her too. You hardly mentioned anythingof her when you wrote to me after your visitthere.”

“Because I thought I should soon see youmyself. I hope you will be a great deal to-gether while you are in Bath. She is a mostamiable girl; such a superior understand-ing! How fond all the family are of her; sheis evidently the general favourite; and howmuch she must be admired in such a place asthis—is not she?”

“Yes, very much indeed, I fancy; Mr. Allenthinks her the prettiest girl in Bath.”

“I dare say he does; and I do not know anyman who is a better judge of beauty than Mr.Allen. I need not ask you whether you arehappy here, my dear Catherine; with such acompanion and friend as Isabella Thorpe, itwould be impossible for you to be otherwise;and the Allens, I am sure, are very kind toyou?”

“Yes, very kind; I never was so happy be-fore; and now you are come it will be more

CHAPTER 7 57

delightful than ever; how good it is of you tocome so far on purpose to see me.”

James accepted this tribute of gratitude,and qualified his conscience for accepting ittoo, by saying with perfect sincerity, “Indeed,Catherine, I love you dearly.”

Inquiries and communications concerningbrothers and sisters, the situation of some,the growth of the rest, and other familymatters now passed between them, and con-tinued, with only one small digression onJames’s part, in praise of Miss Thorpe, tillthey reached Pulteney Street, where he waswelcomed with great kindness by Mr. andMrs. Allen, invited by the former to dine withthem, and summoned by the latter to guessthe price and weigh the merits of a new muffand tippet. A pre-engagement in Edgar’sBuildings prevented his accepting the invita-tion of one friend, and obliged him to hurryaway as soon as he had satisfied the demandsof the other. The time of the two parties unit-ing in the Octagon Room being correctly ad-justed, Catherine was then left to the luxuryof a raised, restless, and frightened imagina-tion over the pages of Udolpho, lost from allworldly concerns of dressing and dinner, in-capable of soothing Mrs. Allen’s fears on thedelay of an expected dressmaker, and havingonly one minute in sixty to bestow even on thereflection of her own felicity, in being alreadyengaged for the evening.

58 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 8

In spite of Udolpho and the dressmaker, how-ever, the party from Pulteney Street reachedthe Upper Rooms in very good time. TheThorpes and James Morland were there onlytwo minutes before them; and Isabella havinggone through the usual ceremonial of meet-ing her friend with the most smiling and affec-tionate haste, of admiring the set of her gown,and envying the curl of her hair, they followedtheir chaperones, arm in arm, into the ball-room, whispering to each other whenever athought occurred, and supplying the place ofmany ideas by a squeeze of the hand or a smileof affection.

The dancing began within a few minutesafter they were seated; and James, who hadbeen engaged quite as long as his sister, wasvery importunate with Isabella to stand up;but John was gone into the card-room to speakto a friend, and nothing, she declared, shouldinduce her to join the set before her dearCatherine could join it too. “I assure you,” saidshe, “I would not stand up without your dearsister for all the world; for if I did we shouldcertainly be separated the whole evening.”

59

60 NORTHANGER ABBEY

Catherine accepted this kindness with grat-itude, and they continued as they were forthree minutes longer, when Isabella, who hadbeen talking to James on the other side of her,turned again to his sister and whispered, “Mydear creature, I am afraid I must leave you,your brother is so amazingly impatient to be-gin; I know you will not mind my going away,and I dare say John will be back in a mo-ment, and then you may easily find me out.”Catherine, though a little disappointed, hadtoo much good nature to make any opposition,and the others rising up, Isabella had onlytime to press her friend’s hand and say, “Good-bye, my dear love,” before they hurried off.The younger Miss Thorpes being also danc-ing, Catherine was left to the mercy of Mrs.Thorpe and Mrs. Allen, between whom shenow remained. She could not help being vexedat the non-appearance of Mr. Thorpe, for shenot only longed to be dancing, but was like-wise aware that, as the real dignity of her sit-uation could not be known, she was sharingwith the scores of other young ladies still sit-ting down all the discredit of wanting a part-ner. To be disgraced in the eye of the world,to wear the appearance of infamy while herheart is all purity, her actions all innocence,and the misconduct of another the true sourceof her debasement, is one of those circum-stances which peculiarly belong to the hero-ine’s life, and her fortitude under it what par-ticularly dignifies her character. Catherinehad fortitude too; she suffered, but no mur-mur passed her lips.

CHAPTER 8 61

From this state of humiliation, she wasroused, at the end of ten minutes, to a pleas-anter feeling, by seeing, not Mr. Thorpe, butMr. Tilney, within three yards of the placewhere they sat; he seemed to be moving thatway, but be did not see her, and therefore thesmile and the blush, which his sudden reap-pearance raised in Catherine, passed awaywithout sullying her heroic importance. Helooked as handsome and as lively as ever, andwas talking with interest to a fashionable andpleasing-looking young woman, who leant onhis arm, and whom Catherine immediatelyguessed to be his sister; thus unthinkinglythrowing away a fair opportunity of consider-ing him lost to her forever, by being marriedalready. But guided only by what was simpleand probable, it had never entered her headthat Mr. Tilney could be married; he had notbehaved, he had not talked, like the marriedmen to whom she had been used; he had nevermentioned a wife, and he had acknowledged asister. From these circumstances sprang theinstant conclusion of his sister’s now being byhis side; and therefore, instead of turning of adeathlike paleness and falling in a fit on Mrs.Allen’s bosom, Catherine sat erect, in the per-fect use of her senses, and with cheeks only alittle redder than usual.

Mr. Tilney and his companion, who contin-ued, though slowly, to approach, were imme-diately preceded by a lady, an acquaintance ofMrs. Thorpe; and this lady stopping to speakto her, they, as belonging to her, stopped like-wise, and Catherine, catching Mr. Tilney’s

62 NORTHANGER ABBEY

eye, instantly received from him the smilingtribute of recognition. She returned it withpleasure, and then advancing still nearer, hespoke both to her and Mrs. Allen, by whomhe was very civilly acknowledged. “I am veryhappy to see you again, sir, indeed; I wasafraid you had left Bath.” He thanked her forher fears, and said that he had quitted it fora week, on the very morning after his havinghad the pleasure of seeing her.

“Well, sir, and I dare say you are not sorryto be back again, for it is just the place foryoung people— and indeed for everybody elsetoo. I tell Mr. Allen, when he talks of beingsick of it, that I am sure he should not com-plain, for it is so very agreeable a place, thatit is much better to be here than at home atthis dull time of year. I tell him he is quite inluck to be sent here for his health.”

“And I hope, madam, that Mr. Allen willbe obliged to like the place, from finding it ofservice to him.”

“Thank you, sir. I have no doubt that hewill. A neighbour of ours, Dr. Skinner, washere for his health last winter, and came awayquite stout.”

“That circumstance must give great en-couragement.”

“Yes, sir—and Dr. Skinner and his familywere here three months; so I tell Mr. Allen hemust not be in a hurry to get away.”

Here they were interrupted by a requestfrom Mrs. Thorpe to Mrs. Allen, that shewould move a little to accommodate Mrs.Hughes and Miss Tilney with seats, as they

CHAPTER 8 63

had agreed to join their party. This wasaccordingly done, Mr. Tilney still continuingstanding before them; and after a few min-utes’ consideration, he asked Catherine todance with him. This compliment, delight-ful as it was, produced severe mortificationto the lady; and in giving her denial, she ex-pressed her sorrow on the occasion so verymuch as if she really felt it that had Thorpe,who joined her just afterwards, been half aminute earlier, he might have thought her suf-ferings rather too acute. The very easy man-ner in which he then told her that he had kepther waiting did not by any means reconcileher more to her lot; nor did the particularswhich he entered into while they were stand-ing up, of the horses and dogs of the friendwhom he had just left, and of a proposed ex-change of terriers between them, interest herso much as to prevent her looking very oftentowards that part of the room where she hadleft Mr. Tilney. Of her dear Isabella, to whomshe particularly longed to point out that gen-tleman, she could see nothing. They were indifferent sets. She was separated from all herparty, and away from all her acquaintance;one mortification succeeded another, and fromthe whole she deduced this useful lesson, thatto go previously engaged to a ball does notnecessarily increase either the dignity or en-joyment of a young lady. From such a moral-izing strain as this, she was suddenly rousedby a touch on the shoulder, and turning round,perceived Mrs. Hughes directly behind her, at-tended by Miss Tilney and a gentleman. “I

64 NORTHANGER ABBEY

beg your pardon, Miss Morland,” said she,“for this liberty—but I cannot anyhow get toMiss Thorpe, and Mrs. Thorpe said she wassure you would not have the least objectionto letting in this young lady by you.” Mrs.Hughes could not have applied to any creaturein the room more happy to oblige her thanCatherine. The young ladies were introducedto each other, Miss Tilney expressing a propersense of such goodness, Miss Morland withthe real delicacy of a generous mind makinglight of the obligation; and Mrs. Hughes, sat-isfied with having so respectably settled heryoung charge, returned to her party.

Miss Tilney had a good figure, a prettyface, and a very agreeable countenance; andher air, though it had not all the decidedpretension, the resolute stylishness of MissThorpe’s, had more real elegance. Her man-ners showed good sense and good breeding;they were neither shy nor affectedly open; andshe seemed capable of being young, attrac-tive, and at a ball without wanting to fix theattention of every man near her, and with-out exaggerated feelings of ecstatic delight orinconceivable vexation on every little triflingoccurrence. Catherine, interested at once byher appearance and her relationship to Mr.Tilney, was desirous of being acquainted withher, and readily talked therefore whenevershe could think of anything to say, and hadcourage and leisure for saying it. But the hin-drance thrown in the way of a very speedy in-timacy, by the frequent want of one or more ofthese requisites, prevented their doing more

CHAPTER 8 65

than going through the first rudiments of anacquaintance, by informing themselves howwell the other liked Bath, how much she ad-mired its buildings and surrounding country,whether she drew, or played, or sang, andwhether she was fond of riding on horseback.

The two dances were scarcely concludedbefore Catherine found her arm gently seizedby her faithful Isabella, who in great spiritsexclaimed, “At last I have got you. My dear-est creature, I have been looking for you thishour. What could induce you to come into thisset, when you knew I was in the other? I havebeen quite wretched without you.”

“My dear Isabella, how was it possible forme to get at you? I could not even see whereyou were.”

“So I told your brother all the time—buthe would not believe me. Do go and see forher, Mr. Morland, said I—but all in vain—hewould not stir an inch. Was not it so, Mr. Mor-land? But you men are all so immoderatelylazy! I have been scolding him to such a de-gree, my dear Catherine, you would be quiteamazed. You know I never stand upon cere-mony with such people.”

“Look at that young lady with the whitebeads round her head,” whispered Catherine,detaching her friend from James. “It is Mr.Tilney’s sister.”

“Oh! Heavens! You don’t say so! Let melook at her this moment. What a delightfulgirl! I never saw anything half so beautiful!But where is her all-conquering brother? Is hein the room? Point him out to me this instant,

66 NORTHANGER ABBEY

if he is. I die to see him. Mr. Morland, you arenot to listen. We are not talking about you.”

“But what is all this whispering about?What is going on?”

“There now, I knew how it would be. Youmen have such restless curiosity! Talk of thecuriosity of women, indeed! ’Tis nothing. Butbe satisfied, for you are not to know anythingat all of the matter.”

“And is that likely to satisfy me, do youthink?”

“Well, I declare I never knew anything likeyou. What can it signify to you, what we aretalking of. Perhaps we are talking about you;therefore I would advise you not to listen, oryou may happen to hear something not veryagreeable.”

In this commonplace chatter, which lastedsome time, the original subject seemed en-tirely forgotten; and though Catherine wasvery well pleased to have it dropped for awhile, she could not avoid a little suspicion atthe total suspension of all Isabella’s impatientdesire to see Mr. Tilney. When the orchestrastruck up a fresh dance, James would have ledhis fair partner away, but she resisted. “I tellyou, Mr. Morland,” she cried, “I would not dosuch a thing for all the world. How can you beso teasing; only conceive, my dear Catherine,what your brother wants me to do. He wantsme to dance with him again, though I tell himthat it is a most improper thing, and entirelyagainst the rules. It would make us the talk ofthe place, if we were not to change partners.”

“Upon my honour,” said James, “in these

CHAPTER 8 67

public assemblies, it is as often done as not.”“Nonsense, how can you say so? But when

you men have a point to carry, you never stickat anything. My sweet Catherine, do supportme; persuade your brother how impossible itis. Tell him that it would quite shock you tosee me do such a thing; now would not it?”

“No, not at all; but if you think it wrong,you had much better change.”

“There,” cried Isabella, “you hear whatyour sister says, and yet you will not mindher. Well, remember that it is not my fault,if we set all the old ladies in Bath in a bus-tle. Come along, my dearest Catherine, forheaven’s sake, and stand by me.” And offthey went, to regain their former place. JohnThorpe, in the meanwhile, had walked away;and Catherine, ever willing to give Mr. Tilneyan opportunity of repeating the agreeable re-quest which had already flattered her once,made her way to Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Thorpeas fast as she could, in the hope of finding himstill with them—a hope which, when it provedto be fruitless, she felt to have been highly un-reasonable. “Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Thorpe,impatient for praise of her son, “I hope youhave had an agreeable partner.”

“Very agreeable, madam.”“I am glad of it. John has charming spirits,

has not he?”“Did you meet Mr. Tilney, my dear?” said

Mrs. Allen.“No, where is he?”“He was with us just now, and said he was

so tired of lounging about, that he was re-

68 NORTHANGER ABBEY

solved to go and dance; so I thought perhapshe would ask you, if he met with you.”

“Where can he be?” said Catherine, lookinground; but she had not looked round long be-fore she saw him leading a young lady to thedance.

“Ah! He has got a partner; I wish he hadasked you,” said Mrs. Allen; and after a shortsilence, she added, “he is a very agreeableyoung man.”

“Indeed he is, Mrs. Allen,” said Mrs.Thorpe, smiling complacently; “I must say it,though I am his mother, that there is not amore agreeable young man in the world.”

This inapplicable answer might have beentoo much for the comprehension of many; butit did not puzzle Mrs. Allen, for after only amoment’s consideration, she said, in a whis-per to Catherine, “I dare say she thought I wasspeaking of her son.”

Catherine was disappointed and vexed.She seemed to have missed by so little thevery object she had had in view; and this per-suasion did not incline her to a very graciousreply, when John Thorpe came up to her soonafterwards and said, “Well, Miss Morland, Isuppose you and I are to stand up and jig ittogether again.”

“Oh, no; I am much obliged to you, our twodances are over; and, besides, I am tired, anddo not mean to dance any more.”

“Do not you? Then let us walk about andquiz people. Come along with me, and I willshow you the four greatest quizzers in theroom; my two younger sisters and their part-

CHAPTER 8 69

ners. I have been laughing at them this halfhour.”

Again Catherine excused herself; and atlast he walked off to quiz his sisters by him-self. The rest of the evening she found verydull; Mr. Tilney was drawn away from theirparty at tea, to attend that of his partner;Miss Tilney, though belonging to it, did notsit near her, and James and Isabella were somuch engaged in conversing together that thelatter had no leisure to bestow more on herfriend than one smile, one squeeze, and one“dearest Catherine.”

70 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 9

The progress of Catherine’s unhappiness fromthe events of the evening was as follows. It ap-peared first in a general dissatisfaction witheverybody about her, while she remained inthe rooms, which speedily brought on consid-erable weariness and a violent desire to gohome. This, on arriving in Pulteney Street,took the direction of extraordinary hunger,and when that was appeased, changed intoan earnest longing to be in bed; such wasthe extreme point of her distress; for whenthere she immediately fell into a sound sleepwhich lasted nine hours, and from which sheawoke perfectly revived, in excellent spirits,with fresh hopes and fresh schemes. The firstwish of her heart was to improve her acquain-tance with Miss Tilney, and almost her firstresolution, to seek her for that purpose, inthe pump-room at noon. In the pump-room,one so newly arrived in Bath must be metwith, and that building she had already foundso favourable for the discovery of female ex-cellence, and the completion of female inti-macy, so admirably adapted for secret dis-courses and unlimited confidence, that she

71

72 NORTHANGER ABBEY

was most reasonably encouraged to expect an-other friend from within its walls. Her planfor the morning thus settled, she sat quietlydown to her book after breakfast, resolving toremain in the same place and the same em-ployment till the clock struck one; and fromhabitude very little incommoded by the re-marks and ejaculations of Mrs. Allen, whosevacancy of mind and incapacity for thinkingwere such, that as she never talked a greatdeal, so she could never be entirely silent;and, therefore, while she sat at her work, ifshe lost her needle or broke her thread, if sheheard a carriage in the street, or saw a speckupon her gown, she must observe it aloud,whether there were anyone at leisure to an-swer her or not. At about half past twelve,a remarkably loud rap drew her in haste tothe window, and scarcely had she time to in-form Catherine of there being two open car-riages at the door, in the first only a servant,her brother driving Miss Thorpe in the sec-ond, before John Thorpe came running up-stairs, calling out, “Well, Miss Morland, hereI am. Have you been waiting long? We couldnot come before; the old devil of a coachmakerwas such an eternity finding out a thing fitto be got into, and now it is ten thousand toone but they break down before we are out ofthe street. How do you do, Mrs. Allen? A fa-mous bag last night, was not it? Come, MissMorland, be quick, for the others are in a con-founded hurry to be off. They want to get theirtumble over.”

“What do you mean?” said Catherine.

CHAPTER 9 73

“Where are you all going to?”“Going to? Why, you have not forgot our en-

gagement! Did not we agree together to takea drive this morning? What a head you have!We are going up Claverton Down.”

“Something was said about it, I remember,”said Catherine, looking at Mrs. Allen for heropinion; “but really I did not expect you.”

“Not expect me! That’s a good one! Andwhat a dust you would have made, if I had notcome.”

Catherine’s silent appeal to her friend,meanwhile, was entirely thrown away, forMrs. Allen, not being at all in the habit of con-veying any expression herself by a look, wasnot aware of its being ever intended by any-body else; and Catherine, whose desire of see-ing Miss Tilney again could at that momentbear a short delay in favour of a drive, andwho thought there could be no impropriety inher going with Mr. Thorpe, as Isabella was go-ing at the same time with James, was there-fore obliged to speak plainer. “Well, ma’am,what do you say to it? Can you spare me foran hour or two? Shall I go?”

“Do just as you please, my dear,” repliedMrs. Allen, with the most placid indifference.Catherine took the advice, and ran off to getready. In a very few minutes she reappeared,having scarcely allowed the two others timeenough to get through a few short sentencesin her praise, after Thorpe had procured Mrs.Allen’s admiration of his gig; and then receiv-ing her friend’s parting good wishes, they bothhurried downstairs. “My dearest creature,”

74 NORTHANGER ABBEY

cried Isabella, to whom the duty of friend-ship immediately called her before she couldget into the carriage, “you have been at leastthree hours getting ready. I was afraid youwere ill. What a delightful ball we had lastnight. I have a thousand things to say to you;but make haste and get in, for I long to be off.”

Catherine followed her orders and turnedaway, but not too soon to hear her friend ex-claim aloud to James, “What a sweet girl sheis! I quite dote on her.”

“You will not be frightened, Miss Morland,”said Thorpe, as he handed her in, “if my horseshould dance about a little at first setting off.He will, most likely, give a plunge or two, andperhaps take the rest for a minute; but he willsoon know his master. He is full of spirits,playful as can be, but there is no vice in him.”

Catherine did not think the portrait a veryinviting one, but it was too late to retreat,and she was too young to own herself fright-ened; so, resigning herself to her fate, andtrusting to the animal’s boasted knowledge ofits owner, she sat peaceably down, and sawThorpe sit down by her. Everything beingthen arranged, the servant who stood at thehorse’s head was bid in an important voice“to let him go,” and off they went in the qui-etest manner imaginable, without a plungeor a caper, or anything like one. Catherine,delighted at so happy an escape, spoke herpleasure aloud with grateful surprise; and hercompanion immediately made the matter per-fectly simple by assuring her that it was en-tirely owing to the peculiarly judicious man-

CHAPTER 9 75

ner in which he had then held the reins, andthe singular discernment and dexterity withwhich he had directed his whip. Catherine,though she could not help wondering thatwith such perfect command of his horse, heshould think it necessary to alarm her witha relation of its tricks, congratulated herselfsincerely on being under the care of so excel-lent a coachman; and perceiving that the ani-mal continued to go on in the same quiet man-ner, without showing the smallest propensitytowards any unpleasant vivacity, and (con-sidering its inevitable pace was ten miles anhour) by no means alarmingly fast, gave her-self up to all the enjoyment of air and exer-cise of the most invigorating kind, in a finemild day of February, with the consciousnessof safety. A silence of several minutes suc-ceeded their first short dialogue; it was brokenby Thorpe’s saying very abruptly, “Old Allen isas rich as a Jew—is not he?” Catherine did notunderstand him—and he repeated his ques-tion, adding in explanation, “Old Allen, theman you are with.”

“Oh! Mr. Allen, you mean. Yes, I believe,he is very rich.”

“And no children at all?”“No—not any.”“A famous thing for his next heirs. He is

your godfather, is not he?”“My godfather! No.”“But you are always very much with them.”“Yes, very much.”“Aye, that is what I meant. He seems a

good kind of old fellow enough, and has lived

76 NORTHANGER ABBEY

very well in his time, I dare say; he is notgouty for nothing. Does he drink his bottle aday now?”

“His bottle a day! No. Why should youthink of such a thing? He is a very temperateman, and you could not fancy him in liquorlast night?”

“Lord help you! You women are alwaysthinking of men’s being in liquor. Why, you donot suppose a man is overset by a bottle? I amsure of this—that if everybody was to drinktheir bottle a day, there would not be half thedisorders in the world there are now. It wouldbe a famous good thing for us all.”

“I cannot believe it.”“Oh! Lord, it would be the saving of thou-

sands. There is not the hundredth part ofthe wine consumed in this kingdom that thereought to be. Our foggy climate wants help.”

“And yet I have heard that there is a greatdeal of wine drunk in Oxford.”

“Oxford! There is no drinking at Oxfordnow, I assure you. Nobody drinks there. Youwould hardly meet with a man who goes be-yond his four pints at the utmost. Now, for in-stance, it was reckoned a remarkable thing, atthe last party in my rooms, that upon an aver-age we cleared about five pints a head. It waslooked upon as something out of the commonway. Mine is famous good stuff, to be sure. Youwould not often meet with anything like it inOxford—and that may account for it. But thiswill just give you a notion of the general rateof drinking there.”

“Yes, it does give a notion,” said Cather-

CHAPTER 9 77

ine warmly, “and that is, that you all drink agreat deal more wine than I thought you did.However, I am sure James does not drink somuch.”

This declaration brought on a loud andoverpowering reply, of which no part was verydistinct, except the frequent exclamations,amounting almost to oaths, which adorned it,and Catherine was left, when it ended, withrather a strengthened belief of there being agreat deal of wine drunk in Oxford, and thesame happy conviction of her brother’s com-parative sobriety.

Thorpe’s ideas then all reverted to the mer-its of his own equipage, and she was called onto admire the spirit and freedom with whichhis horse moved along, and the ease which hispaces, as well as the excellence of the springs,gave the motion of the carriage. She followedhim in all his admiration as well as she could.To go before or beyond him was impossible.His knowledge and her ignorance of the sub-ject, his rapidity of expression, and her diffi-dence of herself put that out of her power; shecould strike out nothing new in commenda-tion, but she readily echoed whatever he choseto assert, and it was finally settled betweenthem without any difficulty that his equipagewas altogether the most complete of its kindin England, his carriage the neatest, his horsethe best goer, and himself the best coachman.“You do not really think, Mr. Thorpe,” saidCatherine, venturing after some time to con-sider the matter as entirely decided, and to of-fer some little variation on the subject, “that

78 NORTHANGER ABBEY

James’s gig will break down?”“Break down! Oh! Lord! Did you ever

see such a little tittuppy thing in your life?There is not a sound piece of iron about it.The wheels have been fairly worn out theseten years at least—and as for the body! Uponmy soul, you might shake it to pieces yourselfwith a touch. It is the most devilish little rick-ety business I ever beheld! Thank God! wehave got a better. I would not be bound to gotwo miles in it for fifty thousand pounds.”

“Good heavens!” cried Catherine, quitefrightened. “Then pray let us turn back; theywill certainly meet with an accident if we goon. Do let us turn back, Mr. Thorpe; stop andspeak to my brother, and tell him how veryunsafe it is.”

“Unsafe! Oh, lord! What is there in that?They will only get a roll if it does break down;and there is plenty of dirt; it will be excel-lent falling. Oh, curse it! The carriage issafe enough, if a man knows how to drive it; athing of that sort in good hands will last abovetwenty years after it is fairly worn out. Lordbless you! I would undertake for five poundsto drive it to York and back again, without los-ing a nail.”

Catherine listened with astonishment; sheknew not how to reconcile two such very dif-ferent accounts of the same thing; for shehad not been brought up to understand thepropensities of a rattle, nor to know to howmany idle assertions and impudent false-hoods the excess of vanity will lead. Her ownfamily were plain, matter-of-fact people who

CHAPTER 9 79

seldom aimed at wit of any kind; her father,at the utmost, being contented with a pun,and her mother with a proverb; they werenot in the habit therefore of telling lies toincrease their importance, or of asserting atone moment what they would contradict thenext. She reflected on the affair for some timein much perplexity, and was more than onceon the point of requesting from Mr. Thorpea clearer insight into his real opinion on thesubject; but she checked herself, because it ap-peared to her that he did not excel in givingthose clearer insights, in making those thingsplain which he had before made ambiguous;and, joining to this, the consideration thathe would not really suffer his sister and hisfriend to be exposed to a danger from whichhe might easily preserve them, she concludedat last that he must know the carriage to be infact perfectly safe, and therefore would alarmherself no longer. By him the whole matterseemed entirely forgotten; and all the rest ofhis conversation, or rather talk, began andended with himself and his own concerns. Hetold her of horses which he had bought for atrifle and sold for incredible sums; of racingmatches, in which his judgment had infalli-bly foretold the winner; of shooting parties, inwhich he had killed more birds (though with-out having one good shot) than all his com-panions together; and described to her somefamous day’s sport, with the fox-hounds, inwhich his foresight and skill in directing thedogs had repaired the mistakes of the mostexperienced huntsman, and in which the bold-

80 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ness of his riding, though it had never endan-gered his own life for a moment, had been con-stantly leading others into difficulties, whichhe calmly concluded had broken the necks ofmany.

Little as Catherine was in the habit ofjudging for herself, and unfixed as were hergeneral notions of what men ought to be, shecould not entirely repress a doubt, while shebore with the effusions of his endless con-ceit, of his being altogether completely agree-able. It was a bold surmise, for he was Is-abella’s brother; and she had been assuredby James that his manners would recommendhim to all her sex; but in spite of this, the ex-treme weariness of his company, which creptover her before they had been out an hour,and which continued unceasingly to increasetill they stopped in Pulteney Street again, in-duced her, in some small degree, to resist suchhigh authority, and to distrust his powers ofgiving universal pleasure.

When they arrived at Mrs. Allen’s door,the astonishment of Isabella was hardly tobe expressed, on finding that it was too latein the day for them to attend her friend intothe house: “Past three o’clock!” It was in-conceivable, incredible, impossible! And shewould neither believe her own watch, nor herbrother’s, nor the servant’s; she would believeno assurance of it founded on reason or real-ity, till Morland produced his watch, and as-certained the fact; to have doubted a momentlonger then would have been equally incon-ceivable, incredible, and impossible; and she

CHAPTER 9 81

could only protest, over and over again, thatno two hours and a half had ever gone off soswiftly before, as Catherine was called on toconfirm; Catherine could not tell a falsehoodeven to please Isabella; but the latter wasspared the misery of her friend’s dissentingvoice, by not waiting for her answer. Her ownfeelings entirely engrossed her; her wretched-ness was most acute on finding herself obligedto go directly home. It was ages since she hadhad a moment’s conversation with her dear-est Catherine; and, though she had such thou-sands of things to say to her, it appeared asif they were never to be together again; so,with sniffles of most exquisite misery, and thelaughing eye of utter despondency, she badeher friend adieu and went on.

Catherine found Mrs. Allen just returnedfrom all the busy idleness of the morning,and was immediately greeted with, “Well, mydear, here you are,” a truth which she hadno greater inclination than power to dispute;“and I hope you have had a pleasant airing?”

“Yes, ma’am, I thank you; we could nothave had a nicer day.”

“So Mrs. Thorpe said; she was vastlypleased at your all going.”

“You have seen Mrs. Thorpe, then?”“Yes, I went to the pump-room as soon as

you were gone, and there I met her, and wehad a great deal of talk together. She saysthere was hardly any veal to be got at marketthis morning, it is so uncommonly scarce.”

“Did you see anybody else of our acquain-tance?”

82 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“Yes; we agreed to take a turn in the Cres-cent, and there we met Mrs. Hughes, and Mr.and Miss Tilney walking with her.”

“Did you indeed? And did they speak toyou?”

“Yes, we walked along the Crescent to-gether for half an hour. They seem veryagreeable people. Miss Tilney was in a verypretty spotted muslin, and I fancy, by what Ican learn, that she always dresses very hand-somely. Mrs. Hughes talked to me a great dealabout the family.”

“And what did she tell you of them?”“Oh! A vast deal indeed; she hardly talked

of anything else.”“Did she tell you what part of Gloucester-

shire they come from?”“Yes, she did; but I cannot recollect now.

But they are very good kind of people, andvery rich. Mrs. Tilney was a Miss Drummond,and she and Mrs. Hughes were schoolfellows;and Miss Drummond had a very large fortune;and, when she married, her father gave hertwenty thousand pounds, and five hundred tobuy wedding-clothes. Mrs. Hughes saw all theclothes after they came from the warehouse.”

“And are Mr. and Mrs. Tilney in Bath?”“Yes, I fancy they are, but I am not quite

certain. Upon recollection, however, I have anotion they are both dead; at least the motheris; yes, I am sure Mrs. Tilney is dead, becauseMrs. Hughes told me there was a very beauti-ful set of pearls that Mr. Drummond gave hisdaughter on her wedding-day and that MissTilney has got now, for they were put by for

CHAPTER 9 83

her when her mother died.”“And is Mr. Tilney, my partner, the only

son?”“I cannot be quite positive about that, my

dear; I have some idea he is; but, however, heis a very fine young man, Mrs. Hughes says,and likely to do very well.”

Catherine inquired no further; she hadheard enough to feel that Mrs. Allen had noreal intelligence to give, and that she wasmost particularly unfortunate herself in hav-ing missed such a meeting with both brotherand sister. Could she have foreseen such acircumstance, nothing should have persuadedher to go out with the others; and, as it was,she could only lament her ill luck, and thinkover what she had lost, till it was clear toher that the drive had by no means been verypleasant and that John Thorpe himself wasquite disagreeable.

84 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 10

The Allens, Thorpes, and Morlands all met inthe evening at the theatre; and, as Cather-ine and Isabella sat together, there was thenan opportunity for the latter to utter somefew of the many thousand things which hadbeen collecting within her for communicationin the immeasurable length of time which haddivided them. “Oh, heavens! My belovedCatherine, have I got you at last?” was heraddress on Catherine’s entering the box andsitting by her. “Now, Mr. Morland,” for hewas close to her on the other side, “I shallnot speak another word to you all the rest ofthe evening; so I charge you not to expect it.My sweetest Catherine, how have you beenthis long age? But I need not ask you, foryou look delightfully. You really have doneyour hair in a more heavenly style than ever;you mischievous creature, do you want to at-tract everybody? I assure you, my brother isquite in love with you already; and as for Mr.Tilney—but that is a settled thing—even yourmodesty cannot doubt his attachment now;his coming back to Bath makes it too plain.Oh! What would not I give to see him! I really

85

86 NORTHANGER ABBEY

am quite wild with impatience. My mothersays he is the most delightful young man inthe world; she saw him this morning, youknow; you must introduce him to me. Is hein the house now? Look about, for heaven’ssake! I assure you, I can hardly exist till I seehim.”

“No,” said Catherine, “he is not here; I can-not see him anywhere.”

“Oh, horrid! Am I never to be acquaintedwith him? How do you like my gown? I thinkit does not look amiss; the sleeves were en-tirely my own thought. Do you know, I getso immoderately sick of Bath; your brotherand I were agreeing this morning that, thoughit is vastly well to be here for a few weeks,we would not live here for millions. We soonfound out that our tastes were exactly alike inpreferring the country to every other place; re-ally, our opinions were so exactly the same, itwas quite ridiculous! There was not a singlepoint in which we differed; I would not havehad you by for the world; you are such a slything, I am sure you would have made somedroll remark or other about it.”

“No, indeed I should not.”“Oh, yes you would indeed; I know you bet-

ter than you know yourself. You would havetold us that we seemed born for each other, orsome nonsense of that kind, which would havedistressed me beyond conception; my cheekswould have been as red as your roses; I wouldnot have had you by for the world.”

“Indeed you do me injustice; I would nothave made so improper a remark upon any ac-

CHAPTER 10 87

count; and besides, I am sure it would neverhave entered my head.”

Isabella smiled incredulously and talkedthe rest of the evening to James.

Catherine’s resolution of endeavouring tomeet Miss Tilney again continued in full forcethe next morning; and till the usual momentof going to the pump-room, she felt somealarm from the dread of a second prevention.But nothing of that kind occurred, no vis-itors appeared to delay them, and they allthree set off in good time for the pump-room,where the ordinary course of events and con-versation took place; Mr. Allen, after drinkinghis glass of water, joined some gentlemen totalk over the politics of the day and comparethe accounts of their newspapers; and theladies walked about together, noticing everynew face, and almost every new bonnet in theroom. The female part of the Thorpe family,attended by James Morland, appeared amongthe crowd in less than a quarter of an hour,and Catherine immediately took her usualplace by the side of her friend. James, whowas now in constant attendance, maintaineda similar position, and separating themselvesfrom the rest of their party, they walked inthat manner for some time, till Catherinebegan to doubt the happiness of a situationwhich, confining her entirely to her friendand brother, gave her very little share in thenotice of either. They were always engagedin some sentimental discussion or lively dis-pute, but their sentiment was conveyed insuch whispering voices, and their vivacity at-

88 NORTHANGER ABBEY

tended with so much laughter, that thoughCatherine’s supporting opinion was not unfre-quently called for by one or the other, she wasnever able to give any, from not having hearda word of the subject. At length however shewas empowered to disengage herself from herfriend, by the avowed necessity of speakingto Miss Tilney, whom she most joyfully sawjust entering the room with Mrs. Hughes, andwhom she instantly joined, with a firmer de-termination to be acquainted, than she mighthave had courage to command, had she notbeen urged by the disappointment of the daybefore. Miss Tilney met her with great civil-ity, returned her advances with equal good-will, and they continued talking together aslong as both parties remained in the room;and though in all probability not an observa-tion was made, nor an expression used by ei-ther which had not been made and used somethousands of times before, under that roof, inevery Bath season, yet the merit of their beingspoken with simplicity and truth, and withoutpersonal conceit, might be something uncom-mon.

“How well your brother dances!” was anartless exclamation of Catherine’s towardsthe close of their conversation, which at oncesurprised and amused her companion.

“Henry!” she replied with a smile. “Yes, hedoes dance very well.”

“He must have thought it very odd to hearme say I was engaged the other evening, whenhe saw me sitting down. But I really hadbeen engaged the whole day to Mr. Thorpe.”

CHAPTER 10 89

Miss Tilney could only bow. “You cannotthink,” added Catherine after a moment’s si-lence, “how surprised I was to see him again.I felt so sure of his being quite gone away.”

“When Henry had the pleasure of seeingyou before, he was in Bath but for a couple ofdays. He came only to engage lodgings for us.”

“That never occurred to me; and of course,not seeing him anywhere, I thought he mustbe gone. Was not the young lady he dancedwith on Monday a Miss Smith?”

“Yes, an acquaintance of Mrs. Hughes.”“I dare say she was very glad to dance. Do

you think her pretty?”“Not very.”“He never comes to the pump-room, I sup-

pose?”“Yes, sometimes; but he has rid out this

morning with my father.”Mrs. Hughes now joined them, and asked

Miss Tilney if she was ready to go. “I hopeI shall have the pleasure of seeing you againsoon,” said Catherine. “Shall you be at thecotillion ball tomorrow?”

“Perhaps we—Yes, I think we certainlyshall.”

“I am glad of it, for we shall all bethere.” This civility was duly returned; andthey parted—on Miss Tilney’s side with someknowledge of her new acquaintance’s feelings,and on Catherine’s, without the smallest con-sciousness of having explained them.

She went home very happy. The morninghad answered all her hopes, and the eveningof the following day was now the object of ex-

90 NORTHANGER ABBEY

pectation, the future good. What gown andwhat head-dress she should wear on the oc-casion became her chief concern. She can-not be justified in it. Dress is at all times afrivolous distinction, and excessive solicitudeabout it often destroys its own aim. Cather-ine knew all this very well; her great aunthad read her a lecture on the subject onlythe Christmas before; and yet she lay awaketen minutes on Wednesday night debating be-tween her spotted and her tamboured muslin,and nothing but the shortness of the time pre-vented her buying a new one for the evening.This would have been an error in judgment,great though not uncommon, from which oneof the other sex rather than her own, a brotherrather than a great aunt, might have warnedher, for man only can be aware of the insen-sibility of man towards a new gown. It wouldbe mortifying to the feelings of many ladies,could they be made to understand how littlethe heart of man is affected by what is costlyor new in their attire; how little it is biasedby the texture of their muslin, and how un-susceptible of peculiar tenderness towards thespotted, the sprigged, the mull, or the jack-onet. Woman is fine for her own satisfactionalone. No man will admire her the more, nowoman will like her the better for it. Neatnessand fashion are enough for the former, and asomething of shabbiness or impropriety willbe most endearing to the latter. But not one ofthese grave reflections troubled the tranquil-lity of Catherine.

She entered the rooms on Thursday

CHAPTER 10 91

evening with feelings very different from whathad attended her thither the Monday before.She had then been exulting in her engage-ment to Thorpe, and was now chiefly anxiousto avoid his sight, lest he should engage heragain; for though she could not, dared not ex-pect that Mr. Tilney should ask her a thirdtime to dance, her wishes, hopes, and plansall centred in nothing less. Every young ladymay feel for my heroine in this critical mo-ment, for every young lady has at some timeor other known the same agitation. All havebeen, or at least all have believed themselvesto be, in danger from the pursuit of someonewhom they wished to avoid; and all have beenanxious for the attentions of someone whomthey wished to please. As soon as they werejoined by the Thorpes, Catherine’s agony be-gan; she fidgeted about if John Thorpe cametowards her, hid herself as much as possiblefrom his view, and when he spoke to her pre-tended not to hear him. The cotillions wereover, the country-dancing beginning, and shesaw nothing of the Tilneys.

“Do not be frightened, my dear Catherine,”whispered Isabella, “but I am really going todance with your brother again. I declare posi-tively it is quite shocking. I tell him he oughtto be ashamed of himself, but you and Johnmust keep us in countenance. Make haste,my dear creature, and come to us. John is justwalked off, but he will be back in a moment.”

Catherine had neither time nor inclinationto answer. The others walked away, JohnThorpe was still in view, and she gave her-

92 NORTHANGER ABBEY

self up for lost. That she might not appear,however, to observe or expect him, she kepther eyes intently fixed on her fan; and a self-condemnation for her folly, in supposing thatamong such a crowd they should even meetwith the Tilneys in any reasonable time, hadjust passed through her mind, when she sud-denly found herself addressed and again so-licited to dance, by Mr. Tilney himself. Withwhat sparkling eyes and ready motion shegranted his request, and with how pleasing aflutter of heart she went with him to the set,may be easily imagined. To escape, and, asshe believed, so narrowly escape John Thorpe,and to be asked, so immediately on his joiningher, asked by Mr. Tilney, as if he had soughther on purpose!—it did not appear to her thatlife could supply any greater felicity.

Scarcely had they worked themselves intothe quiet possession of a place, however, whenher attention was claimed by John Thorpe,who stood behind her. “Heyday, Miss Mor-land!” said he. “What is the meaning of this?I thought you and I were to dance together.”

“I wonder you should think so, for younever asked me.”

“That is a good one, by Jove! I asked youas soon as I came into the room, and I wasjust going to ask you again, but when I turnedround, you were gone! This is a cursed shabbytrick! I only came for the sake of dancing withyou, and I firmly believe you were engagedto me ever since Monday. Yes; I remember, Iasked you while you were waiting in the lobbyfor your cloak. And here have I been telling

CHAPTER 10 93

all my acquaintance that I was going to dancewith the prettiest girl in the room; and whenthey see you standing up with somebody else,they will quiz me famously.”

“Oh, no; they will never think of me, aftersuch a description as that.”

“By heavens, if they do not, I will kick themout of the room for blockheads. What chaphave you there?” Catherine satisfied his cu-riosity. “Tilney,” he repeated. “Hum—I do notknow him. A good figure of a man; well puttogether. Does he want a horse? Here is afriend of mine, Sam Fletcher, has got one tosell that would suit anybody. A famous cleveranimal for the road—only forty guineas. I hadfifty minds to buy it myself, for it is one of mymaxims always to buy a good horse when Imeet with one; but it would not answer mypurpose, it would not do for the field. I wouldgive any money for a real good hunter. I havethree now, the best that ever were backed.I would not take eight hundred guineas forthem. Fletcher and I mean to get a house inLeicestershire, against the next season. It isso d—— uncomfortable, living at an inn.”

This was the last sentence by which hecould weary Catherine’s attention, for he wasjust then borne off by the resistless pressureof a long string of passing ladies. Her part-ner now drew near, and said, “That gentle-man would have put me out of patience, hadhe stayed with you half a minute longer. Hehas no business to withdraw the attention ofmy partner from me. We have entered into acontract of mutual agreeableness for the space

94 NORTHANGER ABBEY

of an evening, and all our agreeableness be-longs solely to each other for that time. No-body can fasten themselves on the notice ofone, without injuring the rights of the other.I consider a country-dance as an emblem ofmarriage. Fidelity and complaisance are theprincipal duties of both; and those men whodo not choose to dance or marry themselves,have no business with the partners or wivesof their neighbours.”

“But they are such very different things!”“—That you think they cannot be com-

pared together.”“To be sure not. People that marry can

never part, but must go and keep house to-gether. People that dance only stand oppositeeach other in a long room for half an hour.”

“And such is your definition of matrimonyand dancing. Taken in that light certainly,their resemblance is not striking; but I thinkI could place them in such a view. You willallow, that in both, man has the advantageof choice, woman only the power of refusal;that in both, it is an engagement betweenman and woman, formed for the advantage ofeach; and that when once entered into, theybelong exclusively to each other till the mo-ment of its dissolution; that it is their duty,each to endeavour to give the other no causefor wishing that he or she had bestowed them-selves elsewhere, and their best interest tokeep their own imaginations from wanderingtowards the perfections of their neighbours, orfancying that they should have been better offwith anyone else. You will allow all this?”

CHAPTER 10 95

“Yes, to be sure, as you state it, all thissounds very well; but still they are so very dif-ferent. I cannot look upon them at all in thesame light, nor think the same duties belongto them.”

“In one respect, there certainly is a differ-ence. In marriage, the man is supposed to pro-vide for the support of the woman, the womanto make the home agreeable to the man; heis to purvey, and she is to smile. But indancing, their duties are exactly changed; theagreeableness, the compliance are expectedfrom him, while she furnishes the fan and thelavender water. That, I suppose, was the dif-ference of duties which struck you, as render-ing the conditions incapable of comparison.”

“No, indeed, I never thought of that.”“Then I am quite at a loss. One thing, how-

ever, I must observe. This disposition on yourside is rather alarming. You totally disallowany similarity in the obligations; and may Inot thence infer that your notions of the du-ties of the dancing state are not so strict asyour partner might wish? Have I not reasonto fear that if the gentleman who spoke to youjust now were to return, or if any other gen-tleman were to address you, there would benothing to restrain you from conversing withhim as long as you chose?”

“Mr. Thorpe is such a very particularfriend of my brother’s, that if he talks to me, Imust talk to him again; but there are hardlythree young men in the room besides him thatI have any acquaintance with.”

“And is that to be my only security? Alas,

96 NORTHANGER ABBEY

alas!”“Nay, I am sure you cannot have a better;

for if I do not know anybody, it is impossiblefor me to talk to them; and, besides, I do notwant to talk to anybody.”

“Now you have given me a security worthhaving; and I shall proceed with courage. Doyou find Bath as agreeable as when I had thehonour of making the inquiry before?”

“Yes, quite—more so, indeed.”“More so! Take care, or you will forget to

be tired of it at the proper time. You ought tobe tired at the end of six weeks.”

“I do not think I should be tired, if I wereto stay here six months.”

“Bath, compared with London, has lit-tle variety, and so everybody finds out everyyear. ‘For six weeks, I allow Bath is pleasantenough; but beyond that, it is the most tire-some place in the world.’ You would be toldso by people of all descriptions, who come reg-ularly every winter, lengthen their six weeksinto ten or twelve, and go away at last becausethey can afford to stay no longer.”

“Well, other people must judge for them-selves, and those who go to London may thinknothing of Bath. But I, who live in a smallretired village in the country, can never findgreater sameness in such a place as this thanin my own home; for here are a variety ofamusements, a variety of things to be seenand done all day long, which I can know noth-ing of there.”

“You are not fond of the country.”“Yes, I am. I have always lived there, and

CHAPTER 10 97

always been very happy. But certainly there ismuch more sameness in a country life than ina Bath life. One day in the country is exactlylike another.”

“But then you spend your time so muchmore rationally in the country.”

“Do I?”“Do you not?”“I do not believe there is much difference.”“Here you are in pursuit only of amuse-

ment all day long.”“And so I am at home—only I do not find

so much of it. I walk about here, and so I dothere; but here I see a variety of people in ev-ery street, and there I can only go and call onMrs. Allen.”

Mr. Tilney was very much amused.“Only go and call on Mrs. Allen!” he

repeated. “What a picture of intellectualpoverty! However, when you sink into thisabyss again, you will have more to say. Youwill be able to talk of Bath, and of all that youdid here.”

“Oh! Yes. I shall never be in want of some-thing to talk of again to Mrs. Allen, or any-body else. I really believe I shall always betalking of Bath, when I am at home again—Ido like it so very much. If I could but havePapa and Mamma, and the rest of them here,I suppose I should be too happy! James’s com-ing (my eldest brother) is quite delightful––and especially as it turns out that the veryfamily we are just got so intimate with are hisintimate friends already. Oh! Who can everbe tired of Bath?”

98 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“Not those who bring such fresh feelings ofevery sort to it as you do. But papas and mam-mas, and brothers, and intimate friends are agood deal gone by, to most of the frequentersof Bath—and the honest relish of balls andplays, and everyday sights, is past with them.”Here their conversation closed, the demandsof the dance becoming now too importunatefor a divided attention.

Soon after their reaching the bottom ofthe set, Catherine perceived herself to beearnestly regarded by a gentleman who stoodamong the lookers-on, immediately behindher partner. He was a very handsome man, ofa commanding aspect, past the bloom, but notpast the vigour of life; and with his eye stilldirected towards her, she saw him presentlyaddress Mr. Tilney in a familiar whisper. Con-fused by his notice, and blushing from the fearof its being excited by something wrong in herappearance, she turned away her head. Butwhile she did so, the gentleman retreated, andher partner, coming nearer, said, “I see thatyou guess what I have just been asked. Thatgentleman knows your name, and you have aright to know his. It is General Tilney, my fa-ther.”

Catherine’s answer was only “Oh!”—but itwas an “Oh!” expressing everything needful:attention to his words, and perfect reliance ontheir truth. With real interest and strong ad-miration did her eye now follow the general,as he moved through the crowd, and “Howhandsome a family they are!” was her secretremark.

CHAPTER 10 99

In chatting with Miss Tilney before theevening concluded, a new source of felicityarose to her. She had never taken a countrywalk since her arrival in Bath. Miss Tilney, towhom all the commonly frequented environswere familiar, spoke of them in terms whichmade her all eagerness to know them too; andon her openly fearing that she might find no-body to go with her, it was proposed by thebrother and sister that they should join in awalk, some morning or other. “I shall like it,”she cried, “beyond anything in the world; anddo not let us put it off—let us go tomorrow.”This was readily agreed to, with only a provisoof Miss Tilney’s, that it did not rain, whichCatherine was sure it would not. At twelveo’clock, they were to call for her in PulteneyStreet; and “Remember—twelve o’clock,” washer parting speech to her new friend. Of herother, her older, her more established friend,Isabella, of whose fidelity and worth she hadenjoyed a fortnight’s experience, she scarcelysaw anything during the evening. Yet, thoughlonging to make her acquainted with her hap-piness, she cheerfully submitted to the wishof Mr. Allen, which took them rather earlyaway, and her spirits danced within her, asshe danced in her chair all the way home.

100 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 11

The morrow brought a very sober-lookingmorning, the sun making only a few effortsto appear, and Catherine augured from it ev-erything most favourable to her wishes. Abright morning so early in the year, she al-lowed, would generally turn to rain, but acloudy one foretold improvement as the dayadvanced. She applied to Mr. Allen for confir-mation of her hopes, but Mr. Allen, not hav-ing his own skies and barometer about him,declined giving any absolute promise of sun-shine. She applied to Mrs. Allen, and Mrs.Allen’s opinion was more positive. “She hadno doubt in the world of its being a very fineday, if the clouds would only go off, and thesun keep out.”

At about eleven o’clock, however, a fewspecks of small rain upon the windows caughtCatherine’s watchful eye, and “Oh! dear, I dobelieve it will be wet,” broke from her in amost desponding tone.

“I thought how it would be,” said Mrs.Allen.

“No walk for me today,” sighed Catherine;“but perhaps it may come to nothing, or it may

101

102 NORTHANGER ABBEY

hold up before twelve.”“Perhaps it may, but then, my dear, it will

be so dirty.”“Oh! That will not signify; I never mind

dirt.”“No,” replied her friend very placidly, “I

know you never mind dirt.”After a short pause, “It comes on faster and

faster!” said Catherine, as she stood watchingat a window.

“So it does indeed. If it keeps raining, thestreets will be very wet.”

“There are four umbrellas up already. HowI hate the sight of an umbrella!”

“They are disagreeable things to carry. Iwould much rather take a chair at any time.”

“It was such a nice-looking morning! I feltso convinced it would be dry!”

“Anybody would have thought so indeed.There will be very few people in the pump-room, if it rains all the morning. I hope Mr.Allen will put on his greatcoat when he goes,but I dare say he will not, for he had ratherdo anything in the world than walk out ina greatcoat; I wonder he should dislike it, itmust be so comfortable.”

The rain continued—fast, though notheavy. Catherine went every five minutes tothe clock, threatening on each return that, ifit still kept on raining another five minutes,she would give up the matter as hopeless. Theclock struck twelve, and it still rained. “Youwill not be able to go, my dear.”

“I do not quite despair yet. I shall not giveit up till a quarter after twelve. This is just

CHAPTER 11 103

the time of day for it to clear up, and I do thinkit looks a little lighter. There, it is twenty min-utes after twelve, and now I shall give it upentirely. Oh! That we had such weather hereas they had at Udolpho, or at least in Tuscanyand the south of France!—the night that poorSt. Aubin died!—such beautiful weather!”

At half past twelve, when Catherine’s anx-ious attention to the weather was over andshe could no longer claim any merit fromits amendment, the sky began voluntarily toclear. A gleam of sunshine took her quiteby surprise; she looked round; the cloudswere parting, and she instantly returned tothe window to watch over and encourage thehappy appearance. Ten minutes more madeit certain that a bright afternoon would suc-ceed, and justified the opinion of Mrs. Allen,who had “always thought it would clear up.”But whether Catherine might still expect herfriends, whether there had not been too muchrain for Miss Tilney to venture, must yet be aquestion.

It was too dirty for Mrs. Allen to accom-pany her husband to the pump-room; he ac-cordingly set off by himself, and Catherinehad barely watched him down the street whenher notice was claimed by the approach of thesame two open carriages, containing the samethree people that had surprised her so much afew mornings back.

“Isabella, my brother, and Mr. Thorpe, I de-clare! They are coming for me perhaps—but Ishall not go—I cannot go indeed, for you knowMiss Tilney may still call.” Mrs. Allen agreed

104 NORTHANGER ABBEY

to it. John Thorpe was soon with them, andhis voice was with them yet sooner, for on thestairs he was calling out to Miss Morland tobe quick. “Make haste! Make haste!” as hethrew open the door. “Put on your hat thismoment—there is no time to be lost—we aregoing to Bristol. How d’ye do, Mrs. Allen?”

“To Bristol! Is not that a great way off?But, however, I cannot go with you today, be-cause I am engaged; I expect some friends ev-ery moment.” This was of course vehementlytalked down as no reason at all; Mrs. Allenwas called on to second him, and the two oth-ers walked in, to give their assistance. “Mysweetest Catherine, is not this delightful? Weshall have a most heavenly drive. You are tothank your brother and me for the scheme; itdarted into our heads at breakfast-time, I ver-ily believe at the same instant; and we shouldhave been off two hours ago if it had not beenfor this detestable rain. But it does not signify,the nights are moonlight, and we shall do de-lightfully. Oh! I am in such ecstasies at thethoughts of a little country air and quiet! Somuch better than going to the Lower Rooms.We shall drive directly to Clifton and dinethere; and, as soon as dinner is over, if thereis time for it, go on to Kingsweston.”

“I doubt our being able to do so much,” saidMorland.

“You croaking fellow!” cried Thorpe. “Weshall be able to do ten times more. Kingswe-ston! Aye, and Blaize Castle too, and anythingelse we can hear of; but here is your sistersays she will not go.”

CHAPTER 11 105

“Blaize Castle!” cried Catherine. “What isthat’?”

“The finest place in England—worth goingfifty miles at any time to see.”

“What, is it really a castle, an old castle?”“The oldest in the kingdom.”“But is it like what one reads of?”“Exactly—the very same.”“But now really—are there towers and

long galleries?”“By dozens.”“Then I should like to see it; but I

cannot—I cannot go.”“Not go! My beloved creature, what do you

mean’?”“I cannot go, because”—looking down as

she spoke, fearful of Isabella’s smile—“I ex-pect Miss Tilney and her brother to call onme to take a country walk. They promised tocome at twelve, only it rained; but now, as itis so fine, I dare say they will be here soon.”

“Not they indeed,” cried Thorpe; “for, as weturned into Broad Street, I saw them—doeshe not drive a phaeton with bright chestnuts?”

“I do not know indeed.”“Yes, I know he does; I saw him. You are

talking of the man you danced with last night,are not you?”

“Yes.“Well, I saw him at that moment turn up

the Lansdown Road, driving a smart-lookinggirl.”

“Did you indeed?”“Did upon my soul; knew him again di-

rectly, and he seemed to have got some very

106 NORTHANGER ABBEY

pretty cattle too.”“It is very odd! But I suppose they thought

it would be too dirty for a walk.”“And well they might, for I never saw so

much dirt in my life. Walk! You could no morewalk than you could fly! It has not been sodirty the whole winter; it is ankle-deep every-where.”

Isabella corroborated it: “My dearestCatherine, you cannot form an idea of the dirt;come, you must go; you cannot refuse goingnow.”

“I should like to see the castle; but may wego all over it? May we go up every staircase,and into every suite of rooms?”

“Yes, yes, every hole and corner.”“But then, if they should only be gone out

for an hour till it is dryer, and call by and by?”“Make yourself easy, there is no danger of

that, for I heard Tilney hallooing to a manwho was just passing by on horseback, thatthey were going as far as Wick Rocks.”

“Then I will. Shall I go, Mrs. Allen?”“Just as you please, my dear.”“Mrs. Allen, you must persuade her to go,”

was the general cry. Mrs. Allen was not inat-tentive to it: “Well, my dear,” said she, “sup-pose you go.” And in two minutes they wereoff.

Catherine’s feelings, as she got into thecarriage, were in a very unsettled state; di-vided between regret for the loss of one greatpleasure, and the hope of soon enjoying an-other, almost its equal in degree, however un-like in kind. She could not think the Tilneys

CHAPTER 11 107

had acted quite well by her, in so readily giv-ing up their engagement, without sending herany message of excuse. It was now but anhour later than the time fixed on for the be-ginning of their walk; and, in spite of whatshe had heard of the prodigious accumulationof dirt in the course of that hour, she couldnot from her own observation help thinkingthat they might have gone with very little in-convenience. To feel herself slighted by themwas very painful. On the other hand, the de-light of exploring an edifice like Udolpho, asher fancy represented Blaize Castle to be, wassuch a counterpoise of good as might consoleher for almost anything.

They passed briskly down Pulteney Street,and through Laura Place, without the ex-change of many words. Thorpe talked to hishorse, and she meditated, by turns, on brokenpromises and broken arches, phaetons andfalse hangings, Tilneys and trap-doors. Asthey entered Argyle Buildings, however, shewas roused by this address from her compan-ion, “Who is that girl who looked at you sohard as she went by?”

“Who? Where?”“On the right-hand pavement—she must

be almost out of sight now.” Catherine lookedround and saw Miss Tilney leaning on herbrother’s arm, walking slowly down the street.She saw them both looking back at her. “Stop,stop, Mr. Thorpe,” she impatiently cried; “it isMiss Tilney; it is indeed. How could you tellme they were gone? Stop, stop, I will get outthis moment and go to them.” But to what

108 NORTHANGER ABBEY

purpose did she speak? Thorpe only lashedhis horse into a brisker trot; the Tilneys, whohad soon ceased to look after her, were in amoment out of sight round the corner of LauraPlace, and in another moment she was herselfwhisked into the marketplace. Still, however,and during the length of another street, sheentreated him to stop. “Pray, pray stop, Mr.Thorpe. I cannot go on. I will not go on. Imust go back to Miss Tilney.” But Mr. Thorpeonly laughed, smacked his whip, encouragedhis horse, made odd noises, and drove on; andCatherine, angry and vexed as she was, hav-ing no power of getting away, was obliged togive up the point and submit. Her reproaches,however, were not spared. “How could you de-ceive me so, Mr. Thorpe? How could you saythat you saw them driving up the LansdownRoad? I would not have had it happen so forthe world. They must think it so strange, sorude of me! To go by them, too, without say-ing a word! You do not know how vexed I am;I shall have no pleasure at Clifton, nor in any-thing else. I had rather, ten thousand timesrather, get out now, and walk back to them.How could you say you saw them driving outin a phaeton?” Thorpe defended himself verystoutly, declared he had never seen two menso much alike in his life, and would hardlygive up the point of its having been Tilneyhimself.

Their drive, even when this subject wasover, was not likely to be very agreeable.Catherine’s complaisance was no longer whatit had been in their former airing. She lis-

CHAPTER 11 109

tened reluctantly, and her replies were short.Blaize Castle remained her only comfort; to-wards that, she still looked at intervals withpleasure; though rather than be disappointedof the promised walk, and especially ratherthan be thought ill of by the Tilneys, shewould willingly have given up all the happi-ness which its walls could supply—the hap-piness of a progress through a long suite oflofty rooms, exhibiting the remains of magnif-icent furniture, though now for many yearsdeserted—the happiness of being stopped intheir way along narrow, winding vaults, bya low, grated door; or even of having theirlamp, their only lamp, extinguished by a sud-den gust of wind, and of being left in totaldarkness. In the meanwhile, they proceededon their journey without any mischance, andwere within view of the town of Keynsham,when a halloo from Morland, who was behindthem, made his friend pull up, to know whatwas the matter. The others then came closeenough for conversation, and Morland said,“We had better go back, Thorpe; it is too lateto go on today; your sister thinks so as well asI. We have been exactly an hour coming fromPulteney Street, very little more than sevenmiles; and, I suppose, we have at least eightmore to go. It will never do. We set out a greatdeal too late. We had much better put it off tillanother day, and turn round.”

“It is all one to me,” replied Thorpe ratherangrily; and instantly turning his horse, theywere on their way back to Bath.

“If your brother had not got such a d——

110 NORTHANGER ABBEY

beast to drive,” said he soon afterwards, “wemight have done it very well. My horse wouldhave trotted to Clifton within the hour, if leftto himself, and I have almost broke my armwith pulling him in to that cursed broken-winded jade’s pace. Morland is a fool for notkeeping a horse and gig of his own.”

“No, he is not,” said Catherine warmly, “forI am sure he could not afford it.”

“And why cannot he afford it?”“Because he has not money enough.”“And whose fault is that?”“Nobody’s, that I know of.” Thorpe then

said something in the loud, incoherent way towhich he had often recourse, about its being ad—— thing to be miserly; and that if peoplewho rolled in money could not afford things,he did not know who could, which Catherinedid not even endeavour to understand. Disap-pointed of what was to have been the consola-tion for her first disappointment, she was lessand less disposed either to be agreeable her-self or to find her companion so; and they re-turned to Pulteney Street without her speak-ing twenty words.

As she entered the house, the footman toldher that a gentleman and lady had called andinquired for her a few minutes after her set-ting off; that, when he told them she wasgone out with Mr. Thorpe, the lady had askedwhether any message had been left for her;and on his saying no, had felt for a card,but said she had none about her, and wentaway. Pondering over these heart-rending tid-ings, Catherine walked slowly upstairs. At

CHAPTER 11 111

the head of them she was met by Mr. Allen,who, on hearing the reason of their speedyreturn, said, “I am glad your brother had somuch sense; I am glad you are come back. Itwas a strange, wild scheme.”

They all spent the evening together atThorpe’s. Catherine was disturbed and outof spirits; but Isabella seemed to find a poolof commerce, in the fate of which she shared,by private partnership with Morland, a verygood equivalent for the quiet and country airof an inn at Clifton. Her satisfaction, too,in not being at the Lower Rooms was spokenmore than once. “How I pity the poor crea-tures that are going there! How glad I am thatI am not amongst them! I wonder whether itwill be a full ball or not! They have not begundancing yet. I would not be there for all theworld. It is so delightful to have an eveningnow and then to oneself. I dare say it will notbe a very good ball. I know the Mitchells willnot be there. I am sure I pity everybody thatis. But I dare say, Mr. Morland, you long tobe at it, do not you? I am sure you do. Well,pray do not let anybody here be a restraint onyou. I dare say we could do very well with-out you; but you men think yourselves of suchconsequence.”

Catherine could almost have accused Is-abella of being wanting in tenderness towardsherself and her sorrows, so very little did theyappear to dwell on her mind, and so very in-adequate was the comfort she offered. “Do notbe so dull, my dearest creature,” she whis-pered. “You will quite break my heart. It

112 NORTHANGER ABBEY

was amazingly shocking, to be sure; but theTilneys were entirely to blame. Why were notthey more punctual? It was dirty, indeed, butwhat did that signify? I am sure John and Ishould not have minded it. I never mind go-ing through anything, where a friend is con-cerned; that is my disposition, and John isjust the same; he has amazing strong feel-ings. Good heavens! What a delightful handyou have got! Kings, I vow! I never was sohappy in my life! I would fifty times ratheryou should have them than myself.”

And now I may dismiss my heroine to thesleepless couch, which is the true heroine’sportion; to a pillow strewed with thorns andwet with tears. And lucky may she think her-self, if she get another good night’s rest in thecourse of the next three months.

CHAPTER 12

“Mrs. Allen,” said Catherine the next morn-ing, “will there be any harm in my calling onMiss Tilney today? I shall not be easy till Ihave explained everything.”

“Go, by all means, my dear; only put on awhite gown; Miss Tilney always wears white.”

Catherine cheerfully complied, and beingproperly equipped, was more impatient thanever to be at the pump-room, that she mightinform herself of General Tilneys lodgings,for though she believed they were in MilsomStreet, she was not certain of the house, andMrs. Allen’s wavering convictions only madeit more doubtful. To Milsom Street she wasdirected, and having made herself perfect inthe number, hastened away with eager stepsand a beating heart to pay her visit, explainher conduct, and be forgiven; tripping lightlythrough the church-yard, and resolutely turn-ing away her eyes, that she might not beobliged to see her beloved Isabella and herdear family, who, she had reason to believe,were in a shop hard by. She reached the housewithout any impediment, looked at the num-ber, knocked at the door, and inquired for Miss

113

114 NORTHANGER ABBEY

Tilney. The man believed Miss Tilney to be athome, but was not quite certain. Would shebe pleased to send up her name? She gave hercard. In a few minutes the servant returned,and with a look which did not quite confirmhis words, said he had been mistaken, for thatMiss Tilney was walked out. Catherine, witha blush of mortification, left the house. Shefelt almost persuaded that Miss Tilney wasat home, and too much offended to admit her;and as she retired down the street, could notwithhold one glance at the drawing-room win-dows, in expectation of seeing her there, butno one appeared at them. At the bottom ofthe street, however, she looked back again,and then, not at a window, but issuing fromthe door, she saw Miss Tilney herself. Shewas followed by a gentleman, whom Cather-ine believed to be her father, and they turnedup towards Edgar’s Buildings. Catherine, indeep mortification, proceeded on her way. Shecould almost be angry herself at such angryincivility; but she checked the resentful sensa-tion; she remembered her own ignorance. Sheknew not how such an offence as hers mightbe classed by the laws of worldly politeness,to what a degree of unforgivingness it mightwith propriety lead, nor to what rigours ofrudeness in return it might justly make heramenable.

Dejected and humbled, she had even somethoughts of not going with the others to thetheatre that night; but it must be confessedthat they were not of long continuance, for shesoon recollected, in the first place, that she

CHAPTER 12 115

was without any excuse for staying at home;and, in the second, that it was a play shewanted very much to see. To the theatre ac-cordingly they all went; no Tilneys appearedto plague or please her; she feared that,amongst the many perfections of the family,a fondness for plays was not to be ranked; butperhaps it was because they were habituatedto the finer performances of the London stage,which she knew, on Isabella’s authority, ren-dered everything else of the kind “quite hor-rid.” She was not deceived in her own expec-tation of pleasure; the comedy so well sus-pended her care that no one, observing herduring the first four acts, would have sup-posed she had any wretchedness about her.On the beginning of the fifth, however, thesudden view of Mr. Henry Tilney and his fa-ther, joining a party in the opposite box, re-called her to anxiety and distress. The stagecould no longer excite genuine merriment—nolonger keep her whole attention. Every otherlook upon an average was directed towardsthe opposite box; and, for the space of two en-tire scenes, did she thus watch Henry Tilney,without being once able to catch his eye. Nolonger could he be suspected of indifferencefor a play; his notice was never withdrawnfrom the stage during two whole scenes. Atlength, however, he did look towards her, andhe bowed—but such a bow! No smile, nocontinued observance attended it; his eyeswere immediately returned to their formerdirection. Catherine was restlessly miser-able; she could almost have run round to

116 NORTHANGER ABBEY

the box in which he sat and forced him tohear her explanation. Feelings rather natu-ral than heroic possessed her; instead of con-sidering her own dignity injured by this readycondemnation—instead of proudly resolving,in conscious innocence, to show her resent-ment towards him who could harbour a doubtof it, to leave to him all the trouble of seek-ing an explanation, and to enlighten him onthe past only by avoiding his sight, or flirt-ing with somebody else—she took to herselfall the shame of misconduct, or at least of itsappearance, and was only eager for an oppor-tunity of explaining its cause.

The play concluded—the curtainfell—Henry Tilney was no longer to beseen where he had hitherto sat, but his fatherremained, and perhaps he might be nowcoming round to their box. She was right; ina few minutes he appeared, and, making hisway through the then thinning rows, spokewith like calm politeness to Mrs. Allen andher friend. Not with such calmness was heanswered by the latter: “Oh! Mr. Tilney, Ihave been quite wild to speak to you, andmake my apologies. You must have thoughtme so rude; but indeed it was not my ownfault, was it, Mrs. Allen? Did not they tell methat Mr. Tilney and his sister were gone outin a phaeton together? And then what could Ido? But I had ten thousand times rather havebeen with you; now had not I, Mrs. Allen?”

“My dear, you tumble my gown,” was Mrs.Allen’s reply.

Her assurance, however, standing sole as it

CHAPTER 12 117

did, was not thrown away; it brought a morecordial, more natural smile into his counte-nance, and he replied in a tone which retainedonly a little affected reserve: “We were muchobliged to you at any rate for wishing us apleasant walk after our passing you in ArgyleStreet: you were so kind as to look back onpurpose.”

“But indeed I did not wish you a pleas-ant walk; I never thought of such a thing;but I begged Mr. Thorpe so earnestly to stop;I called out to him as soon as ever I sawyou; now, Mrs. Allen, did not—Oh! Youwere not there; but indeed I did; and, if Mr.Thorpe would only have stopped, I would havejumped out and run after you.”

Is there a Henry in the world who couldbe insensible to such a declaration? HenryTilney at least was not. With a yet sweetersmile, he said everything that need be saidof his sister’s concern, regret, and dependenceon Catherine’s honour. “Oh! Do not say MissTilney was not angry,” cried Catherine, “be-cause I know she was; for she would not seeme this morning when I called; I saw her walkout of the house the next minute after myleaving it; I was hurt, but I was not affronted.Perhaps you did not know I had been there.”

“I was not within at the time; but I heardof it from Eleanor, and she has been wish-ing ever since to see you, to explain the rea-son of such incivility; but perhaps I can do itas well. It was nothing more than that myfather—they were just preparing to walk out,and he being hurried for time, and not caring

118 NORTHANGER ABBEY

to have it put off—made a point of her beingdenied. That was all, I do assure you. Shewas very much vexed, and meant to make herapology as soon as possible.”

Catherine’s mind was greatly eased by thisinformation, yet a something of solicituderemained, from which sprang the followingquestion, thoroughly artless in itself, thoughrather distressing to the gentleman: “But, Mr.Tilney, why were you less generous than yoursister? If she felt such confidence in my goodintentions, and could suppose it to be only amistake, why should you be so ready to takeoffence?”

“Me! I take offence!”“Nay, I am sure by your look, when you

came into the box, you were angry.”“I angry! I could have no right.”“Well, nobody would have thought you had

no right who saw your face.” He replied byasking her to make room for him, and talkingof the play.

He remained with them some time, andwas only too agreeable for Catherine to becontented when he went away. Before theyparted, however, it was agreed that the pro-jected walk should be taken as soon as possi-ble; and, setting aside the misery of his quit-ting their box, she was, upon the whole, leftone of the happiest creatures in the world.

While talking to each other, she had ob-served with some surprise that John Thorpe,who was never in the same part of the housefor ten minutes together, was engaged inconversation with General Tilney; and she

CHAPTER 12 119

felt something more than surprise when shethought she could perceive herself the objectof their attention and discourse. What couldthey have to say of her? She feared GeneralTilney did not like her appearance: she foundit was implied in his preventing her admit-tance to his daughter, rather than postponehis own walk a few minutes. “How came Mr.Thorpe to know your father?” was her anxiousinquiry, as she pointed them out to her com-panion. He knew nothing about it; but his fa-ther, like every military man, had a very largeacquaintance.

When the entertainment was over, Thorpecame to assist them in getting out. Cather-ine was the immediate object of his gallantry;and, while they waited in the lobby for a chair,he prevented the inquiry which had trav-elled from her heart almost to the tip of hertongue, by asking, in a consequential manner,whether she had seen him talking with Gen-eral Tilney: “He is a fine old fellow, upon mysoul! Stout, active—looks as young as his son.I have a great regard for him, I assure you:a gentleman-like, good sort of fellow as everlived.”

“But how came you to know him?”“Know him! There are few people much

about town that I do not know. I have methim forever at the Bedford; and I knew hisface again today the moment he came intothe billiard-room. One of the best players wehave, by the by; and we had a little touch to-gether, though I was almost afraid of him atfirst: the odds were five to four against me;

120 NORTHANGER ABBEY

and, if I had not made one of the cleaneststrokes that perhaps ever was made in thisworld—I took his ball exactly—but I could notmake you understand it without a table; how-ever, I did beat him. A very fine fellow; asrich as a Jew. I should like to dine with him;I dare say he gives famous dinners. But whatdo you think we have been talking of? You.Yes, by heavens! And the general thinks youthe finest girl in Bath.”

“Oh! Nonsense! How can you say so?”“And what do you think I said?”—lowering

his voice—“well done, general, said I; I amquite of your mind.”

Here Catherine, who was much less grat-ified by his admiration than by GeneralTilney’s, was not sorry to be called away byMr. Allen. Thorpe, however, would see her toher chair, and, till she entered it, continuedthe same kind of delicate flattery, in spite ofher entreating him to have done.

That General Tilney, instead of disliking,should admire her, was very delightful; andshe joyfully thought that there was not one ofthe family whom she need now fear to meet.The evening had done more, much more, forher than could have been expected.

CHAPTER 13

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Fri-day, and Saturday have now passed in re-view before the reader; the events of eachday, its hopes and fears, mortifications andpleasures, have been separately stated, andthe pangs of Sunday only now remain to bedescribed, and close the week. The Cliftonscheme had been deferred, not relinquished,and on the afternoon’s crescent of this day, itwas brought forward again. In a private con-sultation between Isabella and James, the for-mer of whom had particularly set her heartupon going, and the latter no less anxiouslyplaced his upon pleasing her, it was agreedthat, provided the weather were fair, the partyshould take place on the following morning;and they were to set off very early, in order tobe at home in good time. The affair thus de-termined, and Thorpe’s approbation secured,Catherine only remained to be apprised of it.She had left them for a few minutes to speakto Miss Tilney. In that interval the plan wascompleted, and as soon as she came again,her agreement was demanded; but insteadof the gay acquiescence expected by Isabella,

121

122 NORTHANGER ABBEY

Catherine looked grave, was very sorry, butcould not go. The engagement which ought tohave kept her from joining in the former at-tempt would make it impossible for her to ac-company them now. She had that moment set-tled with Miss Tilney to take their proposedwalk tomorrow; it was quite determined, andshe would not, upon any account, retract.But that she must and should retract was in-stantly the eager cry of both the Thorpes; theymust go to Clifton tomorrow, they would notgo without her, it would be nothing to putoff a mere walk for one day longer, and theywould not hear of a refusal. Catherine wasdistressed, but not subdued. “Do not urge me,Isabella. I am engaged to Miss Tilney. I can-not go.” This availed nothing. The same ar-guments assailed her again; she must go, sheshould go, and they would not hear of a re-fusal. “It would be so easy to tell Miss Tilneythat you had just been reminded of a prior en-gagement, and must only beg to put off thewalk till Tuesday.”

“No, it would not be easy. I could not doit. There has been no prior engagement.” ButIsabella became only more and more urgent,calling on her in the most affectionate man-ner, addressing her by the most endearingnames. She was sure her dearest, sweetestCatherine would not seriously refuse such atrifling request to a friend who loved her sodearly. She knew her beloved Catherine tohave so feeling a heart, so sweet a temper,to be so easily persuaded by those she loved.But all in vain; Catherine felt herself to be

CHAPTER 13 123

in the right, and though pained by such ten-der, such flattering supplication, could not al-low it to influence her. Isabella then tried an-other method. She reproached her with hav-ing more affection for Miss Tilney, though shehad known her so little a while, than for herbest and oldest friends, with being grown coldand indifferent, in short, towards herself. “Icannot help being jealous, Catherine, when Isee myself slighted for strangers, I, who loveyou so excessively! When once my affectionsare placed, it is not in the power of anythingto change them. But I believe my feelings arestronger than anybody’s; I am sure they aretoo strong for my own peace; and to see myselfsupplanted in your friendship by strangersdoes cut me to the quick, I own. These Tilneysseem to swallow up everything else.”

Catherine thought this reproach equallystrange and unkind. Was it the part of afriend thus to expose her feelings to the no-tice of others? Isabella appeared to her un-generous and selfish, regardless of everythingbut her own gratification. These painful ideascrossed her mind, though she said nothing.Isabella, in the meanwhile, had applied herhandkerchief to her eyes; and Morland, mis-erable at such a sight, could not help saying,“Nay, Catherine. I think you cannot stand outany longer now. The sacrifice is not much; andto oblige such a friend—I shall think you quiteunkind, if you still refuse.”

This was the first time of her brother’sopenly siding against her, and anxious toavoid his displeasure, she proposed a compro-

124 NORTHANGER ABBEY

mise. If they would only put off their schemetill Tuesday, which they might easily do, asit depended only on themselves, she could gowith them, and everybody might then be sat-isfied. But “No, no, no!” was the immediateanswer; “that could not be, for Thorpe did notknow that he might not go to town on Tues-day.” Catherine was sorry, but could do nomore; and a short silence ensued, which wasbroken by Isabella, who in a voice of cold re-sentment said, “Very well, then there is anend of the party. If Catherine does not go, Icannot. I cannot be the only woman. I wouldnot, upon any account in the world, do so im-proper a thing.”

“Catherine, you must go,” said James.“But why cannot Mr. Thorpe drive one of

his other sisters? I dare say either of themwould like to go.”

“Thank ye,” cried Thorpe, “but I did notcome to Bath to drive my sisters about, andlook like a fool. No, if you do not go, d—— meif I do. I only go for the sake of driving you.”

“That is a compliment which gives me nopleasure.” But her words were lost on Thorpe,who had turned abruptly away.

The three others still continued together,walking in a most uncomfortable manner topoor Catherine; sometimes not a word wassaid, sometimes she was again attacked withsupplications or reproaches, and her arm wasstill linked within Isabella’s, though theirhearts were at war. At one moment shewas softened, at another irritated; always dis-tressed, but always steady.

CHAPTER 13 125

“I did not think you had been so obstinate,Catherine,” said James; “you were not usedto be so hard to persuade; you once were thekindest, best-tempered of my sisters.”

“I hope I am not less so now,” she replied,very feelingly; “but indeed I cannot go. If I amwrong, I am doing what I believe to be right.”

“I suspect,” said Isabella, in a low voice,“there is no great struggle.”

Catherine’s heart swelled; she drew awayher arm, and Isabella made no opposition.Thus passed a long ten minutes, till they wereagain joined by Thorpe, who, coming to themwith a gayer look, said, “Well, I have settledthe matter, and now we may all go tomorrowwith a safe conscience. I have been to MissTilney, and made your excuses.”

“You have not!” cried Catherine.“I have, upon my soul. Left her this mo-

ment. Told her you had sent me to say that,having just recollected a prior engagement ofgoing to Clifton with us tomorrow, you couldnot have the pleasure of walking with her tillTuesday. She said very well, Tuesday was justas convenient to her; so there is an end ofall our difficulties. A pretty good thought ofmine—hey?”

Isabella’s countenance was once more allsmiles and good humour, and James toolooked happy again.

“A most heavenly thought indeed! Now, mysweet Catherine, all our distresses are over;you are honourably acquitted, and we shallhave a most delightful party.”

“This will not do,” said Catherine; “I can-

126 NORTHANGER ABBEY

not submit to this. I must run after MissTilney directly and set her right.”

Isabella, however, caught hold of onehand, Thorpe of the other, and remonstrancespoured in from all three. Even James wasquite angry. When everything was settled,when Miss Tilney herself said that Tuesdaywould suit her as well, it was quite ridiculous,quite absurd, to make any further objection.

“I do not care. Mr. Thorpe had no businessto invent any such message. If I had thoughtit right to put it off, I could have spoken toMiss Tilney myself. This is only doing it in aruder way; and how do I know that Mr. Thorpehas—He may be mistaken again perhaps; heled me into one act of rudeness by his mistakeon Friday. Let me go, Mr. Thorpe; Isabella, donot hold me.”

Thorpe told her it would be in vain to goafter the Tilneys; they were turning the cor-ner into Brock Street, when he had overtakenthem, and were at home by this time.

“Then I will go after them,” said Cather-ine; “wherever they are I will go after them.It does not signify talking. If I could not bepersuaded into doing what I thought wrong,I never will be tricked into it.” And withthese words she broke away and hurried off.Thorpe would have darted after her, but Mor-land withheld him. “Let her go, let her go, ifshe will go. She is as obstinate as—”

Thorpe never finished the simile, for itcould hardly have been a proper one.

Away walked Catherine in great agitation,as fast as the crowd would permit her, fear-

CHAPTER 13 127

ful of being pursued, yet determined to per-severe. As she walked, she reflected on whathad passed. It was painful to her to disap-point and displease them, particularly to dis-please her brother; but she could not repenther resistance. Setting her own inclinationapart, to have failed a second time in her en-gagement to Miss Tilney, to have retracted apromise voluntarily made only five minutesbefore, and on a false pretence too, must havebeen wrong. She had not been withstand-ing them on selfish principles alone, she hadnot consulted merely her own gratification;that might have been ensured in some degreeby the excursion itself, by seeing Blaize Cas-tle; no, she had attended to what was dueto others, and to her own character in theiropinion. Her conviction of being right, how-ever, was not enough to restore her compo-sure; till she had spoken to Miss Tilney shecould not be at ease; and quickening her pacewhen she got clear of the Crescent, she al-most ran over the remaining ground till shegained the top of Milsom Street. So rapidhad been her movements that in spite of theTilneys’ advantage in the outset, they werebut just turning into their lodgings as shecame within view of them; and the servantstill remaining at the open door, she used onlythe ceremony of saying that she must speakwith Miss Tilney that moment, and hurry-ing by him proceeded upstairs. Then, open-ing the first door before her, which happenedto be the right, she immediately found her-self in the drawing-room with General Tilney,

128 NORTHANGER ABBEY

his son, and daughter. Her explanation, de-fective only in being—from her irritation ofnerves and shortness of breath—no explana-tion at all, was instantly given. “I am come ina great hurry—It was all a mistake—I neverpromised to go—I told them from the first Icould not go.—I ran away in a great hurry toexplain it.—I did not care what you thought ofme.—I would not stay for the servant.”

The business, however, though not per-fectly elucidated by this speech, soon ceasedto be a puzzle. Catherine found that JohnThorpe had given the message; and MissTilney had no scruple in owning herselfgreatly surprised by it. But whether herbrother had still exceeded her in resentment,Catherine, though she instinctively addressedherself as much to one as to the other in hervindication, had no means of knowing. What-ever might have been felt before her arrival,her eager declarations immediately made ev-ery look and sentence as friendly as she coulddesire.

The affair thus happily settled, she was in-troduced by Miss Tilney to her father, and re-ceived by him with such ready, such solicitouspoliteness as recalled Thorpe’s information toher mind, and made her think with pleasurethat he might be sometimes depended on. Tosuch anxious attention was the general’s ci-vility carried, that not aware of her extraor-dinary swiftness in entering the house, hewas quite angry with the servant whose ne-glect had reduced her to open the door ofthe apartment herself. “What did William

CHAPTER 13 129

mean by it? He should make a point of in-quiring into the matter.” And if Catherinehad not most warmly asserted his innocence,it seemed likely that William would lose thefavour of his master forever, if not his place,by her rapidity.

After sitting with them a quarter of anhour, she rose to take leave, and was thenmost agreeably surprised by General Tilney’sasking her if she would do his daughter thehonour of dining and spending the rest of theday with her. Miss Tilney added her ownwishes. Catherine was greatly obliged; butit was quite out of her power. Mr. and Mrs.Allen would expect her back every moment.The general declared he could say no more;the claims of Mr. and Mrs. Allen were not to besuperseded; but on some other day he trusted,when longer notice could be given, they wouldnot refuse to spare her to her friend. “Oh,no; Catherine was sure they would not havethe least objection, and she should have greatpleasure in coming.” The general attended herhimself to the street-door, saying everythinggallant as they went downstairs, admiring theelasticity of her walk, which corresponded ex-actly with the spirit of her dancing, and mak-ing her one of the most graceful bows she hadever beheld, when they parted.

Catherine, delighted by all that hadpassed, proceeded gaily to Pulteney Street,walking, as she concluded, with great elastic-ity, though she had never thought of it before.She reached home without seeing anythingmore of the offended party; and now that she

130 NORTHANGER ABBEY

had been triumphant throughout, had carriedher point, and was secure of her walk, she be-gan (as the flutter of her spirits subsided) todoubt whether she had been perfectly right.A sacrifice was always noble; and if she hadgiven way to their entreaties, she should havebeen spared the distressing idea of a frienddispleased, a brother angry, and a scheme ofgreat happiness to both destroyed, perhapsthrough her means. To ease her mind, andascertain by the opinion of an unprejudicedperson what her own conduct had really been,she took occasion to mention before Mr. Allenthe half-settled scheme of her brother andthe Thorpes for the following day. Mr. Allencaught at it directly. “Well,” said he, “and doyou think of going too?”

“No; I had just engaged myself to walkwith Miss Tilney before they told me of it; andtherefore you know I could not go with them,could I?”

“No, certainly not; and I am glad you do notthink of it. These schemes are not at all thething. Young men and women driving aboutthe country in open carriages! Now and thenit is very well; but going to inns and publicplaces together! It is not right; and I wonderMrs. Thorpe should allow it. I am glad youdo not think of going; I am sure Mrs. Morlandwould not be pleased. Mrs. Allen, are not youof my way of thinking? Do not you think thesekind of projects objectionable?”

“Yes, very much so indeed. Open carriagesare nasty things. A clean gown is not five min-utes’ wear in them. You are splashed getting

CHAPTER 13 131

in and getting out; and the wind takes yourhair and your bonnet in every direction. I hatean open carriage myself.”

“I know you do; but that is not the ques-tion. Do not you think it has an odd appear-ance, if young ladies are frequently drivenabout in them by young men, to whom theyare not even related?”

“Yes, my dear, a very odd appearance in-deed. I cannot bear to see it.”

“Dear madam,” cried Catherine, “then whydid not you tell me so before? I am sure ifI had known it to be improper, I would nothave gone with Mr. Thorpe at all; but I alwayshoped you would tell me, if you thought I wasdoing wrong.”

“And so I should, my dear, you may de-pend on it; for as I told Mrs. Morland at part-ing, I would always do the best for you inmy power. But one must not be over partic-ular. Young people will be young people, asyour good mother says herself. You know Iwanted you, when we first came, not to buythat sprigged muslin, but you would. Youngpeople do not like to be always thwarted.”

“But this was something of real conse-quence; and I do not think you would havefound me hard to persuade.”

“As far as it has gone hitherto, there is noharm done,” said Mr. Allen; “and I would onlyadvise you, my dear, not to go out with Mr.Thorpe any more.”

“That is just what I was going to say,”added his wife.

Catherine, relieved for herself, felt uneasy

132 NORTHANGER ABBEY

for Isabella, and after a moment’s thought,asked Mr. Allen whether it would not beboth proper and kind in her to write to MissThorpe, and explain the indecorum of whichshe must be as insensible as herself; for sheconsidered that Isabella might otherwise per-haps be going to Clifton the next day, in spiteof what had passed. Mr. Allen, however, dis-couraged her from doing any such thing. “Youhad better leave her alone, my dear; she is oldenough to know what she is about, and if not,has a mother to advise her. Mrs. Thorpe is tooindulgent beyond a doubt; but, however, youhad better not interfere. She and your brotherchoose to go, and you will be only getting illwill.”

Catherine submitted, and though sorry tothink that Isabella should be doing wrong, feltgreatly relieved by Mr. Allen’s approbation ofher own conduct, and truly rejoiced to be pre-served by his advice from the danger of fallinginto such an error herself. Her escape from be-ing one of the party to Clifton was now an es-cape indeed; for what would the Tilneys havethought of her, if she had broken her promiseto them in order to do what was wrong in it-self, if she had been guilty of one breach ofpropriety, only to enable her to be guilty of an-other?

CHAPTER 14

The next morning was fair, and Catherine al-most expected another attack from the assem-bled party. With Mr. Allen to support her,she felt no dread of the event: but she wouldgladly be spared a contest, where victory itselfwas painful, and was heartily rejoiced there-fore at neither seeing nor hearing anything ofthem. The Tilneys called for her at the ap-pointed time; and no new difficulty arising,no sudden recollection, no unexpected sum-mons, no impertinent intrusion to disconcerttheir measures, my heroine was most unnat-urally able to fulfil her engagement, though itwas made with the hero himself. They deter-mined on walking round Beechen Cliff, thatnoble hill whose beautiful verdure and hang-ing coppice render it so striking an object fromalmost every opening in Bath.

“I never look at it,” said Catherine, as theywalked along the side of the river, “withoutthinking of the south of France.”

“You have been abroad then?” said Henry,a little surprised.

“Oh! No, I only mean what I have readabout. It always puts me in mind of the

133

134 NORTHANGER ABBEY

country that Emily and her father travelledthrough, in The Mysteries of Udolpho. But younever read novels, I dare say?”

“Why not?”“Because they are not clever enough for

you—gentlemen read better books.”“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who

has not pleasure in a good novel, must be in-tolerably stupid. I have read all Mrs. Rad-cliffe’s works, and most of them with greatpleasure. The Mysteries of Udolpho, when Ihad once begun it, I could not lay down again;I remember finishing it in two days—my hairstanding on end the whole time.”

“Yes,” added Miss Tilney, “and I rememberthat you undertook to read it aloud to me, andthat when I was called away for only five min-utes to answer a note, instead of waiting forme, you took the volume into the HermitageWalk, and I was obliged to stay till you hadfinished it.”

“Thank you, Eleanor—a most honourabletestimony. You see, Miss Morland, the injus-tice of your suspicions. Here was I, in my ea-gerness to get on, refusing to wait only fiveminutes for my sister, breaking the promise Ihad made of reading it aloud, and keeping herin suspense at a most interesting part, by run-ning away with the volume, which, you are toobserve, was her own, particularly her own. Iam proud when I reflect on it, and I think itmust establish me in your good opinion.”

“I am very glad to hear it indeed, and now Ishall never be ashamed of liking Udolpho my-self. But I really thought before, young men

CHAPTER 14 135

despised novels amazingly.”“It is amazingly; it may well suggest

amazement if they do—for they read nearlyas many as women. I myself have read hun-dreds and hundreds. Do not imagine thatyou can cope with me in a knowledge of Ju-lias and Louisas. If we proceed to particu-lars, and engage in the never-ceasing inquiryof ‘Have you read this?’ and ‘Have you readthat?’ I shall soon leave you as far behind meas—what shall I say?—I want an appropriatesimile.—as far as your friend Emily herselfleft poor Valancourt when she went with heraunt into Italy. Consider how many years Ihave had the start of you. I had entered onmy studies at Oxford, while you were a goodlittle girl working your sampler at home!”

“Not very good, I am afraid. But now re-ally, do not you think Udolpho the nicest bookin the world?”

“The nicest—by which I suppose you meanthe neatest. That must depend upon the bind-ing.”

“Henry,” said Miss Tilney, “you are veryimpertinent. Miss Morland, he is treating youexactly as he does his sister. He is foreverfinding fault with me, for some incorrectnessof language, and now he is taking the sameliberty with you. The word ‘nicest,’ as youused it, did not suit him; and you had betterchange it as soon as you can, or we shall beoverpowered with Johnson and Blair all therest of the way.”

“I am sure,” cried Catherine, “I did notmean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice

136 NORTHANGER ABBEY

book, and why should not I call it so?”“Very true,” said Henry, “and this is a very

nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk,and you are two very nice young ladies. Oh!It is a very nice word indeed! It does foreverything. Originally perhaps it was ap-plied only to express neatness, propriety, deli-cacy, or refinement—people were nice in theirdress, in their sentiments, or their choice. Butnow every commendation on every subject iscomprised in that one word.”

“While, in fact,” cried his sister, “it oughtonly to be applied to you, without any com-mendation at all. You are more nice than wise.Come, Miss Morland, let us leave him to med-itate over our faults in the utmost propriety ofdiction, while we praise Udolpho in whateverterms we like best. It is a most interestingwork. You are fond of that kind of reading?”

“To say the truth, I do not much like anyother.”

“Indeed!”“That is, I can read poetry and plays, and

things of that sort, and do not dislike travels.But history, real solemn history, I cannot beinterested in. Can you?”

“Yes, I am fond of history.”“I wish I were too. I read it a little as a

duty, but it tells me nothing that does not ei-ther vex or weary me. The quarrels of popesand kings, with wars or pestilences, in everypage; the men all so good for nothing, andhardly any women at all—it is very tiresome:and yet I often think it odd that it shouldbe so dull, for a great deal of it must be in-

CHAPTER 14 137

vention. The speeches that are put into theheroes’ mouths, their thoughts and designs––the chief of all this must be invention, and in-vention is what delights me in other books.”

“Historians, you think,” said Miss Tilney,“are not happy in their flights of fancy. Theydisplay imagination without raising interest.I am fond of history—and am very well con-tented to take the false with the true. Inthe principal facts they have sources of intel-ligence in former histories and records, whichmay be as much depended on, I conclude, asanything that does not actually pass underone’s own observation; and as for the little em-bellishments you speak of, they are embellish-ments, and I like them as such. If a speechbe well drawn up, I read it with pleasure, bywhomsoever it may be made—and probablywith much greater, if the production of Mr.Hume or Mr. Robertson, than if the genuinewords of Caractacus, Agricola, or Alfred theGreat.”

“You are fond of history! And so are Mr.Allen and my father; and I have two broth-ers who do not dislike it. So many instanceswithin my small circle of friends is remark-able! At this rate, I shall not pity the writersof history any longer. If people like to readtheir books, it is all very well, but to be at somuch trouble in filling great volumes, which,as I used to think, nobody would willingly everlook into, to be labouring only for the tormentof little boys and girls, always struck me asa hard fate; and though I know it is all veryright and necessary, I have often wondered at

138 NORTHANGER ABBEY

the person’s courage that could sit down onpurpose to do it.”

“That little boys and girls should be tor-mented,” said Henry, “is what no one at allacquainted with human nature in a civilizedstate can deny; but in behalf of our mostdistinguished historians, I must observe thatthey might well be offended at being sup-posed to have no higher aim, and that bytheir method and style, they are perfectly wellqualified to torment readers of the most ad-vanced reason and mature time of life. I usethe verb ‘to torment,’ as I observed to be yourown method, instead of ‘to instruct,’ supposingthem to be now admitted as synonymous.”

“You think me foolish to call instruction atorment, but if you had been as much used asmyself to hear poor little children first learn-ing their letters and then learning to spell, ifyou had ever seen how stupid they they can befor a whole morning together, and how tiredmy poor mother is at the end of it, as I amin the habit of seeing almost every day of mylife at home, you would allow that ‘to torment’and ‘to instruct’ might sometimes be used assynonymous words.”

“Very probably. But historians are not ac-countable for the difficulty of learning to read;and even you yourself, who do not altogetherseem particularly friendly to very severe, veryintense application, may perhaps be broughtto acknowledge that it is very well worth-while to be tormented for two or three yearsof one’s life, for the sake of being able to readall the rest of it. Consider—if reading had not

CHAPTER 14 139

been taught, Mrs. Radcliffe would have writ-ten in vain—or perhaps might not have writ-ten at all.”

Catherine assented—and a very warmpanegyric from her on that lady’s meritsclosed the subject. The Tilneys were soon en-gaged in another on which she had nothingto say. They were viewing the country withthe eyes of persons accustomed to drawing,and decided on its capability of being formedinto pictures, with all the eagerness of realtaste. Here Catherine was quite lost. Sheknew nothing of drawing—nothing of taste:and she listened to them with an attentionwhich brought her little profit, for they talkedin phrases which conveyed scarcely any ideato her. The little which she could understand,however, appeared to contradict the very fewnotions she had entertained on the matter be-fore. It seemed as if a good view were nolonger to be taken from the top of an high hill,and that a clear blue sky was no longer a proofof a fine day. She was heartily ashamed of herignorance. A misplaced shame. Where peo-ple wish to attach, they should always be ig-norant. To come with a well-informed mind isto come with an inability of administering tothe vanity of others, which a sensible personwould always wish to avoid. A woman espe-cially, if she have the misfortune of knowinganything, should conceal it as well as she can.

The advantages of natural folly in a beau-tiful girl have been already set forth by thecapital pen of a sister author; and to her treat-ment of the subject I will only add, in jus-

140 NORTHANGER ABBEY

tice to men, that though to the larger andmore trifling part of the sex, imbecility in fe-males is a great enhancement of their per-sonal charms, there is a portion of them tooreasonable and too well informed themselvesto desire anything more in woman than ig-norance. But Catherine did not know herown advantages—did not know that a good-looking girl, with an affectionate heart anda very ignorant mind, cannot fail of attract-ing a clever young man, unless circumstancesare particularly untoward. In the present in-stance, she confessed and lamented her wantof knowledge, declared that she would giveanything in the world to be able to draw;and a lecture on the picturesque immedi-ately followed, in which his instructions wereso clear that she soon began to see beautyin everything admired by him, and her at-tention was so earnest that he became per-fectly satisfied of her having a great dealof natural taste. He talked of foregrounds,distances, and second distances—side-screensand perspectives—lights and shades; andCatherine was so hopeful a scholar that whenthey gained the top of Beechen Cliff, she vol-untarily rejected the whole city of Bath as un-worthy to make part of a landscape. Delightedwith her progress, and fearful of wearying herwith too much wisdom at once, Henry suf-fered the subject to decline, and by an easytransition from a piece of rocky fragment andthe withered oak which he had placed nearits summit, to oaks in general, to forests, theenclosure of them, waste lands, crown lands

CHAPTER 14 141

and government, he shortly found himself ar-rived at politics; and from politics, it was aneasy step to silence. The general pause whichsucceeded his short disquisition on the stateof the nation was put an end to by Cather-ine, who, in rather a solemn tone of voice, ut-tered these words, “I have heard that some-thing very shocking indeed will soon come outin London.”

Miss Tilney, to whom this was chiefly ad-dressed, was startled, and hastily replied, “In-deed! And of what nature?”

“That I do not know, nor who is the author.I have only heard that it is to be more horriblethan anything we have met with yet.”

“Good heaven! Where could you hear ofsuch a thing?”

“A particular friend of mine had an accountof it in a letter from London yesterday. It is tobe uncommonly dreadful. I shall expect mur-der and everything of the kind.”

“You speak with astonishing composure!But I hope your friend’s accounts have beenexaggerated; and if such a design is known be-forehand, proper measures will undoubtedlybe taken by government to prevent its comingto effect.”

“Government,” said Henry, endeavouringnot to smile, “neither desires nor dares to in-terfere in such matters. There must be mur-der; and government cares not how much.”

The ladies stared. He laughed, and added,“Come, shall I make you understand eachother, or leave you to puzzle out an expla-nation as you can? No—I will be noble. I

142 NORTHANGER ABBEY

will prove myself a man, no less by the gen-erosity of my soul than the clearness of myhead. I have no patience with such of mysex as disdain to let themselves sometimesdown to the comprehension of yours. Per-haps the abilities of women are neither soundnor acute—neither vigorous nor keen. Per-haps they may want observation, discern-ment, judgment, fire, genius, and wit.”

“Miss Morland, do not mind what he says;but have the goodness to satisfy me as to thisdreadful riot.”

“Riot! What riot?”“My dear Eleanor, the riot is only in your

own brain. The confusion there is scandalous.Miss Morland has been talking of nothingmore dreadful than a new publication whichis shortly to come out, in three duodecimovolumes, two hundred and seventy-six pagesin each, with a frontispiece to the first, oftwo tombstones and a lantern—do you under-stand? And you, Miss Morland—my stupidsister has mistaken all your clearest expres-sions. You talked of expected horrors inLondon—and instead of instantly conceiving,as any rational creature would have done,that such words could relate only to a cir-culating library, she immediately pictured toherself a mob of three thousand men assem-bling in St. George’s Fields, the Bank at-tacked, the Tower threatened, the streets ofLondon flowing with blood, a detachment ofthe Twelfth Light Dragoons (the hopes of thenation) called up from Northampton to quellthe insurgents, and the gallant Captain Fred-

CHAPTER 14 143

erick Tilney, in the moment of charging at thehead of his troop, knocked off his horse by abrickbat from an upper window. Forgive herstupidity. The fears of the sister have addedto the weakness of the woman; but she is byno means a simpleton in general.”

Catherine looked grave. “And now, Henry,”said Miss Tilney, “that you have made us un-derstand each other, you may as well makeMiss Morland understand yourself—unlessyou mean to have her think you intolerablyrude to your sister, and a great brute in youropinion of women in general. Miss Morland isnot used to your odd ways.”

“I shall be most happy to make her betteracquainted with them.”

“No doubt; but that is no explanation of thepresent.”

“What am I to do?”“You know what you ought to do. Clear

your character handsomely before her. Tellher that you think very highly of the under-standing of women.”

“Miss Morland, I think very highly ofthe understanding of all the women inthe world—especially of those—whoever theymay be—with whom I happen to be in com-pany.”

“That is not enough. Be more serious.”“Miss Morland, no one can think more

highly of the understanding of women than Ido. In my opinion, nature has given them somuch that they never find it necessary to usemore than half.”

“We shall get nothing more serious from

144 NORTHANGER ABBEY

him now, Miss Morland. He is not in a sobermood. But I do assure you that he must beentirely misunderstood, if he can ever appearto say an unjust thing of any woman at all, oran unkind one of me.”

It was no effort to Catherine to believe thatHenry Tilney could never be wrong. His man-ner might sometimes surprise, but his mean-ing must always be just: and what she did notunderstand, she was almost as ready to ad-mire, as what she did. The whole walk wasdelightful, and though it ended too soon, itsconclusion was delightful too; her friends at-tended her into the house, and Miss Tilney,before they parted, addressing herself withrespectful form, as much to Mrs. Allen as toCatherine, petitioned for the pleasure of hercompany to dinner on the day after the next.No difficulty was made on Mrs. Allen’s side,and the only difficulty on Catherine’s was inconcealing the excess of her pleasure.

The morning had passed away so charm-ingly as to banish all her friendship and nat-ural affection, for no thought of Isabella orJames had crossed her during their walk.When the Tilneys were gone, she became ami-able again, but she was amiable for some timeto little effect; Mrs. Allen had no intelligenceto give that could relieve her anxiety; she hadheard nothing of any of them. Towards theend of the morning, however, Catherine, hav-ing occasion for some indispensable yard ofribbon which must be bought without a mo-ment’s delay, walked out into the town, and inBond Street overtook the second Miss Thorpe

CHAPTER 14 145

as she was loitering towards Edgar’s Build-ings between two of the sweetest girls in theworld, who had been her dear friends all themorning. From her, she soon learned that theparty to Clifton had taken place. “They set offat eight this morning,” said Miss Anne, “andI am sure I do not envy them their drive. Ithink you and I are very well off to be out ofthe scrape. it must be the dullest thing in theworld, for there is not a soul at Clifton at thistime of year. Belle went with your brother,and John drove Maria.”

Catherine spoke the pleasure she reallyfelt on hearing this part of the arrangement.

“Oh! yes,” rejoined the other, “Maria isgone. She was quite wild to go. She thought itwould be something very fine. I cannot say Iadmire her taste; and for my part, I was deter-mined from the first not to go, if they pressedme ever so much.”

Catherine, a little doubtful of this, couldnot help answering, “I wish you could havegone too. It is a pity you could not all go.”

“Thank you; but it is quite a matter of in-difference to me. Indeed, I would not havegone on any account. I was saying so to Emilyand Sophia when you overtook us.”

Catherine was still unconvinced; but gladthat Anne should have the friendship of anEmily and a Sophia to console her, she badeher adieu without much uneasiness, and re-turned home, pleased that the party had notbeen prevented by her refusing to join it, andvery heartily wishing that it might be toopleasant to allow either James or Isabella to

146 NORTHANGER ABBEY

resent her resistance any longer.

CHAPTER 15

Early the next day, a note from Isabella,speaking peace and tenderness in every line,and entreating the immediate presence of herfriend on a matter of the utmost importance,hastened Catherine, in the happiest state ofconfidence and curiosity, to Edgar’s Buildings.The two youngest Miss Thorpes were by them-selves in the parlour; and, on Anne’s quittingit to call her sister, Catherine took the oppor-tunity of asking the other for some particu-lars of their yesterday’s party. Maria desiredno greater pleasure than to speak of it; andCatherine immediately learnt that it had beenaltogether the most delightful scheme in theworld, that nobody could imagine how charm-ing it had been, and that it had been moredelightful than anybody could conceive. Suchwas the information of the first five minutes;the second unfolded thus much in detail—thatthey had driven directly to the York Hotel,ate some soup, and bespoke an early dinner,walked down to the pump-room, tasted thewater, and laid out some shillings in pursesand spars; thence adjoined to eat ice at apastry-cook’s, and hurrying back to the hotel,

147

148 NORTHANGER ABBEY

swallowed their dinner in haste, to preventbeing in the dark; and then had a delightfuldrive back, only the moon was not up, and itrained a little, and Mr. Morland’s horse was sotired he could hardly get it along.

Catherine listened with heartfelt satisfac-tion. It appeared that Blaize Castle had neverbeen thought of; and, as for all the rest, therewas nothing to regret for half an instant.Maria’s intelligence concluded with a tendereffusion of pity for her sister Anne, whom sherepresented as insupportably cross, from be-ing excluded the party.

“She will never forgive me, I am sure; but,you know, how could I help it? John wouldhave me go, for he vowed he would not driveher, because she had such thick ankles. Idare say she will not be in good humour againthis month; but I am determined I will not becross; it is not a little matter that puts me outof temper.”

Isabella now entered the room with so ea-ger a step, and a look of such happy im-portance, as engaged all her friend’s notice.Maria was without ceremony sent away, andIsabella, embracing Catherine, thus began:“Yes, my dear Catherine, it is so indeed; yourpenetration has not deceived you. Oh! Thatarch eye of yours! It sees through everything.”

Catherine replied only by a look of wonder-ing ignorance.

“Nay, my beloved, sweetest friend,” contin-ued the other, “compose yourself. I am amaz-ingly agitated, as you perceive. Let us sitdown and talk in comfort. Well, and so you

CHAPTER 15 149

guessed it the moment you had my note? Slycreature! Oh! My dear Catherine, you alone,who know my heart, can judge of my presenthappiness. Your brother is the most charm-ing of men. I only wish I were more worthy ofhim. But what will your excellent father andmother say? Oh! Heavens! When I think ofthem I am so agitated!”

Catherine’s understanding began toawake: an idea of the truth suddenly dartedinto her mind; and, with the natural blushof so new an emotion, she cried out, “Goodheaven! My dear Isabella, what do you mean?Can you—can you really be in love withJames?”

This bold surmise, however, she soonlearnt comprehended but half the fact. Theanxious affection, which she was accused ofhaving continually watched in Isabella’s everylook and action, had, in the course of their yes-terday’s party, received the delightful confes-sion of an equal love. Her heart and faith werealike engaged to James. Never had Catherinelistened to anything so full of interest, wonder,and joy. Her brother and her friend engaged!New to such circumstances, the importance ofit appeared unspeakably great, and she con-templated it as one of those grand events, ofwhich the ordinary course of life can hardly af-ford a return. The strength of her feelings shecould not express; the nature of them, how-ever, contented her friend. The happiness ofhaving such a sister was their first effusion,and the fair ladies mingled in embraces andtears of joy.

150 NORTHANGER ABBEY

Delighting, however, as Catherine sin-cerely did in the prospect of the connection,it must be acknowledged that Isabella far sur-passed her in tender anticipations. “You willbe so infinitely dearer to me, my Catherine,than either Anne or Maria: I feel that I shallbe so much more attached to my dear Mor-land’s family than to my own.”

This was a pitch of friendship beyondCatherine.

“You are so like your dear brother,” contin-ued Isabella, “that I quite doted on you thefirst moment I saw you. But so it always iswith me; the first moment settles everything.The very first day that Morland came to uslast Christmas—the very first moment I be-held him—my heart was irrecoverably gone.I remember I wore my yellow gown, with myhair done up in braids; and when I came intothe drawing-room, and John introduced him,I thought I never saw anybody so handsomebefore.”

Here Catherine secretly acknowledged thepower of love; for, though exceedingly fondof her brother, and partial to all his endow-ments, she had never in her life thought himhandsome.

“I remember too, Miss Andrews drank teawith us that evening, and wore her puce-coloured sarsenet; and she looked so heav-enly that I thought your brother must cer-tainly fall in love with her; I could not sleep awink all night for thinking of it. Oh! Cather-ine, the many sleepless nights I have had onyour brother’s account! I would not have you

CHAPTER 15 151

suffer half what I have done! I am grownwretchedly thin, I know; but I will not painyou by describing my anxiety; you have seenenough of it. I feel that I have betrayed myselfperpetually—so unguarded in speaking of mypartiality for the church! But my secret I wasalways sure would be safe with you.”

Catherine felt that nothing could havebeen safer; but ashamed of an ignorance lit-tle expected, she dared no longer contest thepoint, nor refuse to have been as full of archpenetration and affectionate sympathy as Is-abella chose to consider her. Her brother, shefound, was preparing to set off with all speedto Fullerton, to make known his situation andask consent; and here was a source of somereal agitation to the mind of Isabella. Cather-ine endeavoured to persuade her, as she washerself persuaded, that her father and motherwould never oppose their son’s wishes. “It isimpossible,” said she, “for parents to be morekind, or more desirous of their children’s hap-piness; I have no doubt of their consenting im-mediately.”

“Morland says exactly the same,” repliedIsabella; “and yet I dare not expect it; my for-tune will be so small; they never can consentto it. Your brother, who might marry any-body!”

Here Catherine again discerned the forceof love.

“Indeed, Isabella, you are too humble. Thedifference of fortune can be nothing to signify.”

“Oh! My sweet Catherine, in your gener-ous heart I know it would signify nothing; but

152 NORTHANGER ABBEY

we must not expect such disinterestedness inmany. As for myself, I am sure I only wish oursituations were reversed. Had I the commandof millions, were I mistress of the whole world,your brother would be my only choice.”

This charming sentiment, recommendedas much by sense as novelty, gave Catherinea most pleasing remembrance of all the hero-ines of her acquaintance; and she thought herfriend never looked more lovely than in ut-tering the grand idea. “I am sure they willconsent,” was her frequent declaration; “I amsure they will be delighted with you.”

“For my own part,” said Isabella, “mywishes are so moderate that the smallestincome in nature would be enough for me.Where people are really attached, poverty it-self is wealth; grandeur I detest: I would notsettle in London for the universe. A cottage insome retired village would be ecstasy. Thereare some charming little villas about Rich-mond.”

“Richmond!” cried Catherine. “You mustsettle near Fullerton. You must be near us.”

“I am sure I shall be miserable if we do not.If I can but be near you, I shall be satisfied.But this is idle talking! I will not allow myselfto think of such things, till we have your fa-ther’s answer. Morland says that by sendingit tonight to Salisbury, we may have it tomor-row. Tomorrow? I know I shall never havecourage to open the letter. I know it will bethe death of me.”

A reverie succeeded this conviction—andwhen Isabella spoke again, it was to resolve

CHAPTER 15 153

on the quality of her wedding-gown.Their conference was put an end to by

the anxious young lover himself, who cameto breathe his parting sigh before he set offfor Wiltshire. Catherine wished to congratu-late him, but knew not what to say, and hereloquence was only in her eyes. From them,however, the eight parts of speech shone outmost expressively, and James could combinethem with ease. Impatient for the realiza-tion of all that he hoped at home, his adieuswere not long; and they would have been yetshorter, had he not been frequently detainedby the urgent entreaties of his fair one that hewould go. Twice was he called almost from thedoor by her eagerness to have him gone. “In-deed, Morland, I must drive you away. Con-sider how far you have to ride. I cannot bearto see you linger so. For heaven’s sake, wasteno more time. There, go, go—I insist on it.”

The two friends, with hearts now moreunited than ever, were inseparable for theday; and in schemes of sisterly happiness thehours flew along. Mrs. Thorpe and her son,who were acquainted with everything, andwho seemed only to want Mr. Morland’s con-sent, to consider Isabella’s engagement as themost fortunate circumstance imaginable fortheir family, were allowed to join their coun-sels, and add their quota of significant looksand mysterious expressions to fill up the mea-sure of curiosity to be raised in the unpriv-ileged younger sisters. To Catherine’s sim-ple feelings, this odd sort of reserve seemedneither kindly meant, nor consistently sup-

154 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ported; and its unkindness she would hardlyhave forborne pointing out, had its inconsis-tency been less their friend; but Anne andMaria soon set her heart at ease by the sagac-ity of their “I know what”; and the eveningwas spent in a sort of war of wit, a display offamily ingenuity, on one side in the mystery ofan affected secret, on the other of undefineddiscovery, all equally acute.

Catherine was with her friend again thenext day, endeavouring to support her spiritsand while away the many tedious hours be-fore the delivery of the letters; a needful exer-tion, for as the time of reasonable expectationdrew near, Isabella became more and more de-sponding, and before the letter arrived, hadworked herself into a state of real distress.But when it did come, where could distress befound? “I have had no difficulty in gaining theconsent of my kind parents, and am promisedthat everything in their power shall be doneto forward my happiness,” were the first threelines, and in one moment all was joyful secu-rity. The brightest glow was instantly spreadover Isabella’s features, all care and anxietyseemed removed, her spirits became almosttoo high for control, and she called herselfwithout scruple the happiest of mortals.

Mrs. Thorpe, with tears of joy, embracedher daughter, her son, her visitor, and couldhave embraced half the inhabitants of Bathwith satisfaction. Her heart was overflowingwith tenderness. It was “dear John” and “dearCatherine” at every word; “dear Anne anddear Maria” must immediately be made shar-

CHAPTER 15 155

ers in their felicity; and two “dears” at once be-fore the name of Isabella were not more thanthat beloved child had now well earned. Johnhimself was no skulker in joy. He not only be-stowed on Mr. Morland the high commenda-tion of being one of the finest fellows in theworld, but swore off many sentences in hispraise.

The letter, whence sprang all this felicity,was short, containing little more than this as-surance of success; and every particular wasdeferred till James could write again. But forparticulars Isabella could well afford to wait.The needful was comprised in Mr. Morland’spromise; his honour was pledged to make ev-erything easy; and by what means their in-come was to be formed, whether landed prop-erty were to be resigned, or funded moneymade over, was a matter in which her disinter-ested spirit took no concern. She knew enoughto feel secure of an honourable and speedy es-tablishment, and her imagination took a rapidflight over its attendant felicities. She sawherself at the end of a few weeks, the gazeand admiration of every new acquaintance atFullerton, the envy of every valued old friendin Putney, with a carriage at her command, anew name on her tickets, and a brilliant exhi-bition of hoop rings on her finger.

When the contents of the letter were as-certained, John Thorpe, who had only waitedits arrival to begin his journey to London, pre-pared to set off. “Well, Miss Morland,” saidhe, on finding her alone in the parlour, “I amcome to bid you good-bye.” Catherine wished

156 NORTHANGER ABBEY

him a good journey. Without appearing tohear her, he walked to the window, fidgetedabout, hummed a tune, and seemed whollyself-occupied.

“Shall not you be late at Devizes?” saidCatherine. He made no answer; but aftera minute’s silence burst out with, “A famousgood thing this marrying scheme, upon mysoul! A clever fancy of Morland’s and Belle’s.What do you think of it, Miss Morland? I sayit is no bad notion.”

“I am sure I think it a very good one.”“Do you? That’s honest, by heavens! I am

glad you are no enemy to matrimony, however.Did you ever hear the old song ‘Going to OneWedding Brings on Another?’ I say, you willcome to Belle’s wedding, I hope.”

“Yes; I have promised your sister to be withher, if possible.”

“And then you know”—twisting himselfabout and forcing a foolish laugh—“I say, thenyou know, we may try the truth of this sameold song.”

“May we? But I never sing. Well, I wishyou a good journey. I dine with Miss Tilneytoday, and must now be going home.”

“Nay, but there is no such confoundedhurry. Who knows when we may be togetheragain? Not but that I shall be down again bythe end of a fortnight, and a devilish long fort-night it will appear to me.”

“Then why do you stay away so long?”replied Catherine—finding that he waited foran answer.

“That is kind of you, however—kind and

CHAPTER 15 157

good-natured. I shall not forget it in a hurry.But you have more good nature and all that,than anybody living, I believe. A monstrousdeal of good nature, and it is not only goodnature, but you have so much, so much of ev-erything; and then you have such—upon mysoul, I do not know anybody like you.”

“Oh! dear, there are a great many peoplelike me, I dare say, only a great deal better.Good morning to you.”

“But I say, Miss Morland, I shall come andpay my respects at Fullerton before it is long,if not disagreeable.”

“Pray do. My father and mother will bevery glad to see you.”

“And I hope—I hope, Miss Morland, youwill not be sorry to see me.”

“Oh! dear, not at all. There are very fewpeople I am sorry to see. Company is alwayscheerful.”

“That is just my way of thinking. Give mebut a little cheerful company, let me only havethe company of the people I love, let me onlybe where I like and with whom I like, and thedevil take the rest, say I. And I am heartilyglad to hear you say the same. But I have anotion, Miss Morland, you and I think prettymuch alike upon most matters.”

“Perhaps we may; but it is more than I everthought of. And as to most matters, to say thetruth, there are not many that I know my ownmind about.”

“By Jove, no more do I. It is not my way tobother my brains with what does not concernme. My notion of things is simple enough. Let

158 NORTHANGER ABBEY

me only have the girl I like, say I, with a com-fortable house over my head, and what care Ifor all the rest? Fortune is nothing. I am sureof a good income of my own; and if she had nota penny, why, so much the better.”

“Very true. I think like you there. If thereis a good fortune on one side, there can beno occasion for any on the other. No mat-ter which has it, so that there is enough. Ihate the idea of one great fortune looking outfor another. And to marry for money I thinkthe wickedest thing in existence. Good day.We shall be very glad to see you at Fuller-ton, whenever it is convenient.” And away shewent. It was not in the power of all his gal-lantry to detain her longer. With such newsto communicate, and such a visit to preparefor, her departure was not to be delayed byanything in his nature to urge; and she hur-ried away, leaving him to the undivided con-sciousness of his own happy address, and herexplicit encouragement.

The agitation which she had herself expe-rienced on first learning her brother’s engage-ment made her expect to raise no inconsider-able emotion in Mr. and Mrs. Allen, by thecommunication of the wonderful event. Howgreat was her disappointment! The importantaffair, which many words of preparation ush-ered in, had been foreseen by them both eversince her brother’s arrival; and all that theyfelt on the occasion was comprehended in awish for the young people’s happiness, witha remark, on the gentleman’s side, in favourof Isabella’s beauty, and on the lady’s, of her

CHAPTER 15 159

great good luck. It was to Catherine the mostsurprising insensibility. The disclosure, how-ever, of the great secret of James’s going toFullerton the day before, did raise some emo-tion in Mrs. Allen. She could not listen to thatwith perfect calmness, but repeatedly regret-ted the necessity of its concealment, wishedshe could have known his intention, wishedshe could have seen him before he went, asshe should certainly have troubled him withher best regards to his father and mother, andher kind compliments to all the Skinners.

160 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 16

Catherine’s expectations of pleasure from hervisit in Milsom Street were so very high thatdisappointment was inevitable; and accord-ingly, though she was most politely receivedby General Tilney, and kindly welcomed by hisdaughter, though Henry was at home, and noone else of the party, she found, on her return,without spending many hours in the examina-tion of her feelings, that she had gone to herappointment preparing for happiness which ithad not afforded. Instead of finding herselfimproved in acquaintance with Miss Tilney,from the intercourse of the day, she seemedhardly so intimate with her as before; insteadof seeing Henry Tilney to greater advantagethan ever, in the ease of a family party, he hadnever said so little, nor been so little agree-able; and, in spite of their father’s great ci-vilities to her—in spite of his thanks, invi-tations, and compliments—it had been a re-lease to get away from him. It puzzled her toaccount for all this. It could not be GeneralTilney’s fault. That he was perfectly agree-able and good-natured, and altogether a verycharming man, did not admit of a doubt, for

161

162 NORTHANGER ABBEY

he was tall and handsome, and Henry’s fa-ther. He could not be accountable for his chil-dren’s want of spirits, or for her want of enjoy-ment in his company. The former she hopedat last might have been accidental, and thelatter she could only attribute to her own stu-pidity. Isabella, on hearing the particulars ofthe visit, gave a different explanation: “It wasall pride, pride, insufferable haughtiness andpride! She had long suspected the family to bevery high, and this made it certain. Such in-solence of behaviour as Miss Tilney’s she hadnever heard of in her life! Not to do the hon-ours of her house with common good breeding!To behave to her guest with such supercilious-ness! Hardly even to speak to her!”

“But it was not so bad as that, Isabella;there was no superciliousness; she was verycivil.”

“Oh! Don’t defend her! And then the bro-ther, he, who had appeared so attached toyou! Good heavens! Well, some people’s feel-ings are incomprehensible. And so he hardlylooked once at you the whole day?”

“I do not say so; but he did not seem in goodspirits.”

“How contemptible! Of all things in theworld inconstancy is my aversion. Let me en-treat you never to think of him again, my dearCatherine; indeed he is unworthy of you.”

“Unworthy! I do not suppose he everthinks of me.”

“That is exactly what I say; he neverthinks of you. Such fickleness! Oh! How dif-ferent to your brother and to mine! I really

CHAPTER 16 163

believe John has the most constant heart.”“But as for General Tilney, I assure you

it would be impossible for anybody to behaveto me with greater civility and attention; itseemed to be his only care to entertain andmake me happy.”

“Oh! I know no harm of him; I do notsuspect him of pride. I believe he is a verygentleman-like man. John thinks very well ofhim, and John’s judgment—”

“Well, I shall see how they behave to methis evening; we shall meet them at therooms.”

“And must I go?”“Do not you intend it? I thought it was all

settled.”“Nay, since you make such a point of it,

I can refuse you nothing. But do not insistupon my being very agreeable, for my heart,you know, will be some forty miles off. Andas for dancing, do not mention it, I beg; thatis quite out of the question. Charles Hodgeswill plague me to death, I dare say; but I shallcut him very short. Ten to one but he guessesthe reason, and that is exactly what I want toavoid, so I shall insist on his keeping his con-jecture to himself.”

Isabella’s opinion of the Tilneys did not in-fluence her friend; she was sure there hadbeen no insolence in the manners either ofbrother or sister; and she did not credit therebeing any pride in their hearts. The eveningrewarded her confidence; she was met by onewith the same kindness, and by the other withthe same attention, as heretofore: Miss Tilney

164 NORTHANGER ABBEY

took pains to be near her, and Henry askedher to dance.

Having heard the day before in Mil-som Street that their elder brother, Cap-tain Tilney, was expected almost every hour,she was at no loss for the name of a veryfashionable-looking, handsome young man,whom she had never seen before, and whonow evidently belonged to their party. Shelooked at him with great admiration, andeven supposed it possible that some peoplemight think him handsomer than his brother,though, in her eyes, his air was more assum-ing, and his countenance less prepossessing.His taste and manners were beyond a doubtdecidedly inferior; for, within her hearing, henot only protested against every thought ofdancing himself, but even laughed openly atHenry for finding it possible. From the lattercircumstance it may be presumed that, what-ever might be our heroine’s opinion of him,his admiration of her was not of a very dan-gerous kind; not likely to produce animositiesbetween the brothers, nor persecutions to thelady. He cannot be the instigator of the threevillains in horsemen’s greatcoats, by whomshe will hereafter be forced into a traveling-chaise and four, which will drive off with in-credible speed. Catherine, meanwhile, undis-turbed by presentiments of such an evil, orof any evil at all, except that of having buta short set to dance down, enjoyed her usualhappiness with Henry Tilney, listening withsparkling eyes to everything he said; and, infinding him irresistible, becoming so herself.

CHAPTER 16 165

At the end of the first dance, Cap-tain Tilney came towards them again, and,much to Catherine’s dissatisfaction, pulledhis brother away. They retired whisperingtogether; and, though her delicate sensibil-ity did not take immediate alarm, and lay itdown as fact, that Captain Tilney must haveheard some malevolent misrepresentation ofher, which he now hastened to communicateto his brother, in the hope of separating themforever, she could not have her partner con-veyed from her sight without very uneasy sen-sations. Her suspense was of full five min-utes’ duration; and she was beginning to thinkit a very long quarter of an hour, when theyboth returned, and an explanation was given,by Henry’s requesting to know if she thoughther friend, Miss Thorpe, would have any ob-jection to dancing, as his brother would bemost happy to be introduced to her. Cather-ine, without hesitation, replied that she wasvery sure Miss Thorpe did not mean to danceat all. The cruel reply was passed on to theother, and he immediately walked away.

“Your brother will not mind it, I know,”said she, “because I heard him say beforethat he hated dancing; but it was very good-natured in him to think of it. I suppose he sawIsabella sitting down, and fancied she mightwish for a partner; but he is quite mistaken,for she would not dance upon any account inthe world.”

Henry smiled, and said, “How very littletrouble it can give you to understand the mo-tive of other people’s actions.”

166 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“Why? What do you mean?”“With you, it is not, How is such a one

likely to be influenced, What is the induce-ment most likely to act upon such a person’sfeelings, age, situation, and probable habitsof life considered—but, How should I be influ-enced, What would be my inducement in act-ing so and so?”

“I do not understand you.”“Then we are on very unequal terms, for I

understand you perfectly well.”“Me? Yes; I cannot speak well enough to be

unintelligible.”“Bravo! An excellent satire on modern lan-

guage.”“But pray tell me what you mean.”“Shall I indeed? Do you really desire it?

But you are not aware of the consequences;it will involve you in a very cruel embarrass-ment, and certainly bring on a disagreementbetween us.”

“No, no; it shall not do either; I am notafraid.”

“Well, then, I only meant that your at-tributing my brother’s wish of dancing withMiss Thorpe to good nature alone convincedme of your being superior in good nature your-self to all the rest of the world.”

Catherine blushed and disclaimed, and thegentleman’s predictions were verified. Therewas a something, however, in his words whichrepaid her for the pain of confusion; andthat something occupied her mind so muchthat she drew back for some time, forget-ting to speak or to listen, and almost forget-

CHAPTER 16 167

ting where she was; till, roused by the voiceof Isabella, she looked up and saw her withCaptain Tilney preparing to give them handsacross.

Isabella shrugged her shoulders andsmiled, the only explanation of this extraor-dinary change which could at that time begiven; but as it was not quite enough forCatherine’s comprehension, she spoke her as-tonishment in very plain terms to her partner.

“I cannot think how it could happen! Is-abella was so determined not to dance.”

“And did Isabella never change her mindbefore?”

“Oh! But, because—And your brother! Af-ter what you told him from me, how could hethink of going to ask her?”

“I cannot take surprise to myself on thathead. You bid me be surprised on your friend’saccount, and therefore I am; but as for mybrother, his conduct in the business, I mustown, has been no more than I believed himperfectly equal to. The fairness of your friendwas an open attraction; her firmness, youknow, could only be understood by yourself.”

“You are laughing; but, I assure you, Is-abella is very firm in general.”

“It is as much as should be said of any-one. To be always firm must be to be of-ten obstinate. When properly to relax is thetrial of judgment; and, without reference tomy brother, I really think Miss Thorpe has byno means chosen ill in fixing on the presenthour.”

The friends were not able to get together

168 NORTHANGER ABBEY

for any confidential discourse till all the danc-ing was over; but then, as they walked aboutthe room arm in arm, Isabella thus explainedherself: “I do not wonder at your surprise; andI am really fatigued to death. He is such arattle! Amusing enough, if my mind had beendisengaged; but I would have given the worldto sit still.”

“Then why did not you?”“Oh! My dear! It would have looked so par-

ticular; and you know how I abhor doing that.I refused him as long as I possibly could, buthe would take no denial. You have no idea howhe pressed me. I begged him to excuse me,and get some other partner—but no, not he;after aspiring to my hand, there was nobodyelse in the room he could bear to think of; andit was not that he wanted merely to dance, hewanted to be with me. Oh! Such nonsense!I told him he had taken a very unlikely wayto prevail upon me; for, of all things in theworld, I hated fine speeches and compliments;and so—and so then I found there would be nopeace if I did not stand up. Besides, I thoughtMrs. Hughes, who introduced him, might takeit ill if I did not: and your dear brother, I amsure he would have been miserable if I hadsat down the whole evening. I am so glad it isover! My spirits are quite jaded with listeningto his nonsense: and then, being such a smartyoung fellow, I saw every eye was upon us.”

“He is very handsome indeed.”“Handsome! Yes, I suppose he may. I dare

say people would admire him in general; buthe is not at all in my style of beauty. I hate

CHAPTER 16 169

a florid complexion and dark eyes in a man.However, he is very well. Amazingly con-ceited, I am sure. I took him down severaltimes, you know, in my way.”

When the young ladies next met, theyhad a far more interesting subject to discuss.James Morland’s second letter was then re-ceived, and the kind intentions of his fatherfully explained. A living, of which Mr. Mor-land was himself patron and incumbent, ofabout four hundred pounds yearly value, wasto be resigned to his son as soon as he shouldbe old enough to take it; no trifling deductionfrom the family income, no niggardly assign-ment to one of ten children. An estate of atleast equal value, moreover, was assured ashis future inheritance.

James expressed himself on the occasionwith becoming gratitude; and the necessity ofwaiting between two and three years beforethey could marry, being, however unwelcome,no more than he had expected, was borne byhim without discontent. Catherine, whose ex-pectations had been as unfixed as her ideas ofher father’s income, and whose judgment wasnow entirely led by her brother, felt equallywell satisfied, and heartily congratulated Is-abella on having everything so pleasantly set-tled.

“It is very charming indeed,” said Isabella,with a grave face. “Mr. Morland has behavedvastly handsome indeed,” said the gentle Mrs.Thorpe, looking anxiously at her daughter. “Ionly wish I could do as much. One could notexpect more from him, you know. If he finds he

170 NORTHANGER ABBEY

can do more by and by, I dare say he will, for Iam sure he must be an excellent good-heartedman. Four hundred is but a small income tobegin on indeed, but your wishes, my dear Is-abella, are so moderate, you do not considerhow little you ever want, my dear.”

“It is not on my own account I wish formore; but I cannot bear to be the means of in-juring my dear Morland, making him sit downupon an income hardly enough to find one inthe common necessaries of life. For myself, itis nothing; I never think of myself.”

“I know you never do, my dear; and youwill always find your reward in the affec-tion it makes everybody feel for you. Therenever was a young woman so beloved as youare by everybody that knows you; and I daresay when Mr. Morland sees you, my dearchild—but do not let us distress our dearCatherine by talking of such things. Mr.Morland has behaved so very handsome, youknow. I always heard he was a most excellentman; and you know, my dear, we are not tosuppose but what, if you had had a suitablefortune, he would have come down with some-thing more, for I am sure he must be a mostliberal-minded man.”

“Nobody can think better of Mr. Morlandthan I do, I am sure. But everybody has theirfailing, you know, and everybody has a rightto do what they like with their own money.”

Catherine was hurt by these insinuations.“I am very sure,” said she, “that my father haspromised to do as much as he can afford.”

Isabella recollected herself. “As to that, my

CHAPTER 16 171

sweet Catherine, there cannot be a doubt, andyou know me well enough to be sure that amuch smaller income would satisfy me. It isnot the want of more money that makes mejust at present a little out of spirits; I hatemoney; and if our union could take place nowupon only fifty pounds a year, I should nothave a wish unsatisfied. Ah! my Catherine,you have found me out. There’s the sting. Thelong, long, endless two years and half that areto pass before your brother can hold the liv-ing.”

“Yes, yes, my darling Isabella,” said Mrs.Thorpe, “we perfectly see into your heart. Youhave no disguise. We perfectly understand thepresent vexation; and everybody must loveyou the better for such a noble honest affec-tion.”

Catherine’s uncomfortable feelings beganto lessen. She endeavoured to believe thatthe delay of the marriage was the only sourceof Isabella’s regret; and when she saw her attheir next interview as cheerful and amiableas ever, endeavoured to forget that she hadfor a minute thought otherwise. James soonfollowed his letter, and was received with themost gratifying kindness.

172 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 17

The Allens had now entered on the sixth weekof their stay in Bath; and whether it should bethe last was for some time a question, to whichCatherine listened with a beating heart. Tohave her acquaintance with the Tilneys endso soon was an evil which nothing could coun-terbalance. Her whole happiness seemed atstake, while the affair was in suspense, andeverything secured when it was determinedthat the lodgings should be taken for anotherfortnight. What this additional fortnight wasto produce to her beyond the pleasure of some-times seeing Henry Tilney made but a smallpart of Catherine’s speculation. Once or twiceindeed, since James’s engagement had taughther what could be done, she had got so far asto indulge in a secret “perhaps,” but in generalthe felicity of being with him for the presentbounded her views: the present was now com-prised in another three weeks, and her hap-piness being certain for that period, the restof her life was at such a distance as to ex-cite but little interest. In the course of themorning which saw this business arranged,she visited Miss Tilney, and poured forth her

173

174 NORTHANGER ABBEY

joyful feelings. It was doomed to be a day oftrial. No sooner had she expressed her de-light in Mr. Allen’s lengthened stay than MissTilney told her of her father’s having just de-termined upon quitting Bath by the end ofanother week. Here was a blow! The pastsuspense of the morning had been ease andquiet to the present disappointment. Cather-ine’s countenance fell, and in a voice of mostsincere concern she echoed Miss Tilney’s con-cluding words, “By the end of another week!”

“Yes, my father can seldom be prevailed onto give the waters what I think a fair trial. Hehas been disappointed of some friends’ arrivalwhom he expected to meet here, and as he isnow pretty well, is in a hurry to get home.”

“I am very sorry for it,” said Catherine de-jectedly; “if I had known this before—”

“Perhaps,” said Miss Tilney in an embar-rassed manner, “you would be so good—itwould make me very happy if—”

The entrance of her father put a stop tothe civility, which Catherine was beginning tohope might introduce a desire of their corre-sponding. After addressing her with his usualpoliteness, he turned to his daughter and said,“Well, Eleanor, may I congratulate you on be-ing successful in your application to your fairfriend?”

“I was just beginning to make the request,sir, as you came in.”

“Well, proceed by all means. I know howmuch your heart is in it. My daughter, MissMorland,” he continued, without leaving hisdaughter time to speak, “has been forming a

CHAPTER 17 175

very bold wish. We leave Bath, as she has per-haps told you, on Saturday se’nnight. A letterfrom my steward tells me that my presenceis wanted at home; and being disappointedin my hope of seeing the Marquis of Long-town and General Courteney here, some of myvery old friends, there is nothing to detain melonger in Bath. And could we carry our selfishpoint with you, we should leave it without asingle regret. Can you, in short, be prevailedon to quit this scene of public triumph andoblige your friend Eleanor with your companyin Gloucestershire? I am almost ashamedto make the request, though its presumptionwould certainly appear greater to every crea-ture in Bath than yourself. Modesty such asyours—but not for the world would I pain it byopen praise. If you can be induced to honourus with a visit, you will make us happy beyondexpression. ’Tis true, we can offer you nothinglike the gaieties of this lively place; we cantempt you neither by amusement nor splen-dour, for our mode of living, as you see, is plainand unpretending; yet no endeavours shallbe wanting on our side to make NorthangerAbbey not wholly disagreeable.”

Northanger Abbey! These were thrillingwords, and wound up Catherine’s feelings tothe highest point of ecstasy. Her gratefuland gratified heart could hardly restrain itsexpressions within the language of tolerablecalmness. To receive so flattering an invi-tation! To have her company so warmly so-licited! Everything honourable and sooth-ing, every present enjoyment, and every fu-

176 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ture hope was contained in it; and her accep-tance, with only the saving clause of Papa andMamma’s approbation, was eagerly given. “Iwill write home directly,” said she, “and if theydo not object, as I dare say they will not—”

General Tilney was not less sanguine, hav-ing already waited on her excellent friends inPulteney Street, and obtained their sanctionof his wishes. “Since they can consent to partwith you,” said he, “we may expect philosophyfrom all the world.”

Miss Tilney was earnest, though gentle, inher secondary civilities, and the affair becamein a few minutes as nearly settled as this nec-essary reference to Fullerton would allow.

The circumstances of the morning had ledCatherine’s feelings through the varieties ofsuspense, security, and disappointment; butthey were now safely lodged in perfect bliss;and with spirits elated to rapture, with Henryat her heart, and Northanger Abbey on herlips, she hurried home to write her letter. Mr.and Mrs. Morland, relying on the discretionof the friends to whom they had already en-trusted their daughter, felt no doubt of thepropriety of an acquaintance which had beenformed under their eye, and sent therefore byreturn of post their ready consent to her visitin Gloucestershire. This indulgence, thoughnot more than Catherine had hoped for, com-pleted her conviction of being favoured be-yond every other human creature, in friendsand fortune, circumstance and chance. Every-thing seemed to cooperate for her advantage.By the kindness of her first friends, the Allens,

CHAPTER 17 177

she had been introduced into scenes wherepleasures of every kind had met her. Herfeelings, her preferences, had each known thehappiness of a return. Wherever she felt at-tachment, she had been able to create it. Theaffection of Isabella was to be secured to herin a sister. The Tilneys, they, by whom, aboveall, she desired to be favourably thought of,outstripped even her wishes in the flatteringmeasures by which their intimacy was to becontinued. She was to be their chosen visi-tor, she was to be for weeks under the sameroof with the person whose society she mostlyprized—and, in addition to all the rest, thisroof was to be the roof of an abbey! Her pas-sion for ancient edifices was next in degree toher passion for Henry Tilney—and castles andabbeys made usually the charm of those rever-ies which his image did not fill. To see and ex-plore either the ramparts and keep of the one,or the cloisters of the other, had been for manyweeks a darling wish, though to be more thanthe visitor of an hour had seemed too nearlyimpossible for desire. And yet, this was tohappen. With all the chances against her ofhouse, hall, place, park, court, and cottage,Northanger turned up an abbey, and she wasto be its inhabitant. Its long, damp passages,its narrow cells and ruined chapel, were to bewithin her daily reach, and she could not en-tirely subdue the hope of some traditional leg-ends, some awful memorials of an injured andill-fated nun.

It was wonderful that her friends shouldseem so little elated by the possession of such

178 NORTHANGER ABBEY

a home, that the consciousness of it should beso meekly borne. The power of early habitonly could account for it. A distinction towhich they had been born gave no pride. Theirsuperiority of abode was no more to them thantheir superiority of person.

Many were the inquiries she was eager tomake of Miss Tilney; but so active were herthoughts, that when these inquiries were an-swered, she was hardly more assured thanbefore, of Northanger Abbey having been arichly endowed convent at the time of the Ref-ormation, of its having fallen into the handsof an ancestor of the Tilneys on its dissolu-tion, of a large portion of the ancient buildingstill making a part of the present dwelling al-though the rest was decayed, or of its standinglow in a valley, sheltered from the north andeast by rising woods of oak.

CHAPTER 18

With a mind thus full of happiness, Catherinewas hardly aware that two or three days hadpassed away, without her seeing Isabella formore than a few minutes together. She beganfirst to be sensible of this, and to sigh for herconversation, as she walked along the pump-room one morning, by Mrs. Allen’s side, with-out anything to say or to hear; and scarcelyhad she felt a five minutes’ longing of friend-ship, before the object of it appeared, andinviting her to a secret conference, led the wayto a seat. “This is my favourite place,” saidshe as they sat down on a bench between thedoors, which commanded a tolerable view ofeverybody entering at either; “it is so out ofthe way.”

Catherine, observing that Isabella’s eyeswere continually bent towards one door or theother, as in eager expectation, and remember-ing how often she had been falsely accused ofbeing arch, thought the present a fine oppor-tunity for being really so; and therefore gailysaid, “Do not be uneasy, Isabella, James willsoon be here.”

“Psha! My dear creature,” she replied, “do

179

180 NORTHANGER ABBEY

not think me such a simpleton as to be alwayswanting to confine him to my elbow. It wouldbe hideous to be always together; we shouldbe the jest of the place. And so you are go-ing to Northanger! I am amazingly glad of it.It is one of the finest old places in England, Iunderstand. I shall depend upon a most par-ticular description of it.”

“You shall certainly have the best in mypower to give. But who are you looking for?Are your sisters coming?”

“I am not looking for anybody. One’s eyesmust be somewhere, and you know what afoolish trick I have of fixing mine, when mythoughts are an hundred miles off. I am amaz-ingly absent; I believe I am the most absentcreature in the world. Tilney says it is alwaysthe case with minds of a certain stamp.”

“But I thought, Isabella, you had some-thing in particular to tell me?”

“Oh! Yes, and so I have. But here is a proofof what I was saying. My poor head, I hadquite forgot it. Well, the thing is this: I havejust had a letter from John; you can guess thecontents.”

“No, indeed, I cannot.”“My sweet love, do not be so abominably

affected. What can he write about, but your-self? You know he is over head and ears inlove with you.”

“With me, dear Isabella!”“Nay, my sweetest Catherine, this is being

quite absurd! Modesty, and all that, is verywell in its way, but really a little common hon-esty is sometimes quite as becoming. I have

CHAPTER 18 181

no idea of being so overstrained! It is fishingfor compliments. His attentions were such asa child must have noticed. And it was but halfan hour before he left Bath that you gave himthe most positive encouragement. He says soin this letter, says that he as good as made youan offer, and that you received his advances inthe kindest way; and now he wants me to urgehis suit, and say all manner of pretty things toyou. So it is in vain to affect ignorance.”

Catherine, with all the earnestness oftruth, expressed her astonishment at sucha charge, protesting her innocence of everythought of Mr. Thorpe’s being in love with her,and the consequent impossibility of her hav-ing ever intended to encourage him. “As toany attentions on his side, I do declare, uponmy honour, I never was sensible of them for amoment—except just his asking me to dancethe first day of his coming. And as to makingme an offer, or anything like it, there must besome unaccountable mistake. I could not havemisunderstood a thing of that kind, you know!And, as I ever wish to be believed, I solemnlyprotest that no syllable of such a nature everpassed between us. The last half hour beforehe went away! It must be all and completely amistake—for I did not see him once that wholemorning.”

“But that you certainly did, for you spentthe whole morning in Edgar’s Buildings—itwas the day your father’s consent came—and Iam pretty sure that you and John were alonein the parlour some time before you left thehouse.”

182 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“Are you? Well, if you say it, it was so, Idare say—but for the life of me, I cannot recol-lect it. I do remember now being with you, andseeing him as well as the rest—but that wewere ever alone for five minutes—However,it is not worth arguing about, for whatevermight pass on his side, you must be convinced,by my having no recollection of it, that I neverthought, nor expected, nor wished for any-thing of the kind from him. I am excessivelyconcerned that he should have any regard forme—but indeed it has been quite uninten-tional on my side; I never had the smallestidea of it. Pray undeceive him as soon as youcan, and tell him I beg his pardon—that is—Ido not know what I ought to say—but makehim understand what I mean, in the proper-est way. I would not speak disrespectfully of abrother of yours, Isabella, I am sure; but youknow very well that if I could think of one manmore than another—he is not the person.” Is-abella was silent. “My dear friend, you mustnot be angry with me. I cannot suppose yourbrother cares so very much about me. And,you know, we shall still be sisters.”

“Yes, yes” (with a blush), “there are moreways than one of our being sisters. But wheream I wandering to? Well, my dear Catherine,the case seems to be that you are determinedagainst poor John—is not it so?”

“I certainly cannot return his affection,and as certainly never meant to encourage it.”

“Since that is the case, I am sure I shallnot tease you any further. John desired meto speak to you on the subject, and therefore

CHAPTER 18 183

I have. But I confess, as soon as I read hisletter, I thought it a very foolish, imprudentbusiness, and not likely to promote the goodof either; for what were you to live upon, sup-posing you came together? You have both ofyou something, to be sure, but it is not a triflethat will support a family nowadays; and af-ter all that romancers may say, there is no do-ing without money. I only wonder John couldthink of it; he could not have received mylast.”

“You do acquit me, then, of anythingwrong?—You are convinced that I nevermeant to deceive your brother, never sus-pected him of liking me till this moment?”

“Oh! As to that,” answered Isabella laugh-ingly, “I do not pretend to determine whatyour thoughts and designs in time past mayhave been. All that is best known to your-self. A little harmless flirtation or so will oc-cur, and one is often drawn on to give more en-couragement than one wishes to stand by. Butyou may be assured that I am the last personin the world to judge you severely. All thosethings should be allowed for in youth and highspirits. What one means one day, you know,one may not mean the next. Circumstanceschange, opinions alter.”

“But my opinion of your brother never didalter; it was always the same. You are describ-ing what never happened.”

“My dearest Catherine,” continued theother without at all listening to her, “I wouldnot for all the world be the means of hurryingyou into an engagement before you knew what

184 NORTHANGER ABBEY

you were about. I do not think anything wouldjustify me in wishing you to sacrifice all yourhappiness merely to oblige my brother, be-cause he is my brother, and who perhaps afterall, you know, might be just as happy withoutyou, for people seldom know what they wouldbe at, young men especially, they are so amaz-ingly changeable and inconstant. What I sayis, why should a brother’s happiness be dearerto me than a friend’s? You know I carry mynotions of friendship pretty high. But, aboveall things, my dear Catherine, do not be in ahurry. Take my word for it, that if you arein too great a hurry, you will certainly live torepent it. Tilney says there is nothing peopleare so often deceived in as the state of theirown affections, and I believe he is very right.Ah! Here he comes; never mind, he will notsee us, I am sure.”

Catherine, looking up, perceived CaptainTilney; and Isabella, earnestly fixing her eyeon him as she spoke, soon caught his notice.He approached immediately, and took the seatto which her movements invited him. His firstaddress made Catherine start. Though spo-ken low, she could distinguish, “What! Alwaysto be watched, in person or by proxy!”

“Psha, nonsense!” was Isabella’s answer inthe same half whisper. “Why do you put suchthings into my head? If I could believe it—myspirit, you know, is pretty independent.”

“I wish your heart were independent. Thatwould be enough for me.”

“My heart, indeed! What can you have todo with hearts? You men have none of you any

CHAPTER 18 185

hearts.”“If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and

they give us torment enough.”“Do they? I am sorry for it; I am sorry

they find anything so disagreeable in me. Iwill look another way. I hope this pleases you”(turning her back on him); “I hope your eyesare not tormented now.”

“Never more so; for the edge of a bloomingcheek is still in view—at once too much andtoo little.”

Catherine heard all this, and quite out ofcountenance, could listen no longer. Amazedthat Isabella could endure it, and jealousfor her brother, she rose up, and saying sheshould join Mrs. Allen, proposed their walk-ing. But for this Isabella showed no incli-nation. She was so amazingly tired, andit was so odious to parade about the pump-room; and if she moved from her seat sheshould miss her sisters; she was expectingher sisters every moment; so that her dear-est Catherine must excuse her, and must sitquietly down again. But Catherine couldbe stubborn too; and Mrs. Allen just thencoming up to propose their returning home,she joined her and walked out of the pump-room, leaving Isabella still sitting with Cap-tain Tilney. With much uneasiness did shethus leave them. It seemed to her that Cap-tain Tilney was falling in love with Isabella,and Isabella unconsciously encouraging him;unconsciously it must be, for Isabella’s attach-ment to James was as certain and well ac-knowledged as her engagement. To doubt her

186 NORTHANGER ABBEY

truth or good intentions was impossible; andyet, during the whole of their conversation hermanner had been odd. She wished Isabellahad talked more like her usual self, and not somuch about money, and had not looked so wellpleased at the sight of Captain Tilney. Howstrange that she should not perceive his ad-miration! Catherine longed to give her a hintof it, to put her on her guard, and prevent allthe pain which her too lively behaviour mightotherwise create both for him and her brother.

The compliment of John Thorpe’s affectiondid not make amends for this thoughtlessnessin his sister. She was almost as far from be-lieving as from wishing it to be sincere; forshe had not forgotten that he could mistake,and his assertion of the offer and of her en-couragement convinced her that his mistakescould sometimes be very egregious. In van-ity, therefore, she gained but little; her chiefprofit was in wonder. That he should think itworth his while to fancy himself in love withher was a matter of lively astonishment. Is-abella talked of his attentions; she had neverbeen sensible of any; but Isabella had saidmany things which she hoped had been spo-ken in haste, and would never be said again;and upon this she was glad to rest altogetherfor present ease and comfort.

CHAPTER 19

A few days passed away, and Catherine,though not allowing herself to suspect herfriend, could not help watching her closely.The result of her observations was not agree-able. Isabella seemed an altered creature.When she saw her, indeed, surrounded onlyby their immediate friends in Edgar’s Build-ings or Pulteney Street, her change of man-ners was so trifling that, had it gone no far-ther, it might have passed unnoticed. Asomething of languid indifference, or of thatboasted absence of mind which Catherinehad never heard of before, would occasionallycome across her; but had nothing worse ap-peared, that might only have spread a newgrace and inspired a warmer interest. Butwhen Catherine saw her in public, admit-ting Captain Tilney’s attentions as readily asthey were offered, and allowing him almostan equal share with James in her notice andsmiles, the alteration became too positive tobe passed over. What could be meant by suchunsteady conduct, what her friend could beat, was beyond her comprehension. Isabellacould not be aware of the pain she was in-

187

188 NORTHANGER ABBEY

flicting; but it was a degree of wilful thought-lessness which Catherine could not but re-sent. James was the sufferer. She saw himgrave and uneasy; and however careless of hispresent comfort the woman might be who hadgiven him her heart, to her it was always anobject. For poor Captain Tilney too she wasgreatly concerned. Though his looks did notplease her, his name was a passport to hergoodwill, and she thought with sincere com-passion of his approaching disappointment;for, in spite of what she had believed her-self to overbear in the pump-room, his be-haviour was so incompatible with a knowl-edge of Isabella’s engagement that she couldnot, upon reflection, imagine him aware of it.He might be jealous of her brother as a ri-val, but if more bad seemed implied, the faultmust have been in her misapprehension. Shewished, by a gentle remonstrance, to remindIsabella of her situation, and make her awareof this double unkindness; but for remon-strance, either opportunity or comprehensionwas always against her. If able to suggest ahint, Isabella could never understand it. Inthis distress, the intended departure of theTilney family became her chief consolation;their journey into Gloucestershire was to takeplace within a few days, and Captain Tilney’sremoval would at least restore peace to everyheart but his own. But Captain Tilney had atpresent no intention of removing; he was notto be of the party to Northanger; he was tocontinue at Bath. When Catherine knew this,her resolution was directly made. She spoke

CHAPTER 19 189

to Henry Tilney on the subject, regretting hisbrother’s evident partiality for Miss Thorpe,and entreating him to make known her priorengagement.

“My brother does know it,” was Henry’s an-swer.

“Does he? Then why does he stay here?”He made no reply, and was beginning to

talk of something else; but she eagerly con-tinued, “Why do not you persuade him to goaway? The longer he stays, the worse it willbe for him at last. Pray advise him for his ownsake, and for everybody’s sake, to leave Bathdirectly. Absence will in time make him com-fortable again; but he can have no hope here,and it is only staying to be miserable.” Henrysmiled and said, “I am sure my brother wouldnot wish to do that.”

“Then you will persuade him to go away?”“Persuasion is not at command; but pardon

me, if I cannot even endeavour to persuadehim. I have myself told him that Miss Thorpeis engaged. He knows what he is about, andmust be his own master.”

“No, he does not know what he is about,”cried Catherine; “he does not know the painhe is giving my brother. Not that James hasever told me so, but I am sure he is very un-comfortable.”

“And are you sure it is my brother’s doing?”“Yes, very sure.”“Is it my brother’s attentions to Miss

Thorpe, or Miss Thorpe’s admission of them,that gives the pain?”

“Is not it the same thing?”

190 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“I think Mr. Morland would acknowledgea difference. No man is offended by anotherman’s admiration of the woman he loves; it isthe woman only who can make it a torment.”

Catherine blushed for her friend, and said,“Isabella is wrong. But I am sure she can-not mean to torment, for she is very much at-tached to my brother. She has been in lovewith him ever since they first met, and whilemy father’s consent was uncertain, she fret-ted herself almost into a fever. You know shemust be attached to him.”

“I understand: she is in love with James,and flirts with Frederick.”

“Oh! no, not flirts. A woman in love withone man cannot flirt with another.”

“It is probable that she will neither love sowell, nor flirt so well, as she might do eithersingly. The gentlemen must each give up alittle.”

After a short pause, Catherine resumedwith, “Then you do not believe Isabella so verymuch attached to my brother?”

“I can have no opinion on that subject.”“But what can your brother mean? If he

knows her engagement, what can he mean byhis behaviour?”

“You are a very close questioner.”“Am I? I only ask what I want to be told.”“But do you only ask what I can be ex-

pected to tell?”“Yes, I think so; for you must know your

brother’s heart.”“My brother’s heart, as you term it, on the

present occasion, I assure you I can only guess

CHAPTER 19 191

at.”“Well?”“Well! Nay, if it is to be guesswork, let

us all guess for ourselves. To be guidedby second-hand conjecture is pitiful. Thepremises are before you. My brother is a livelyand perhaps sometimes a thoughtless youngman; he has had about a week’s acquaintancewith your friend, and he has known her en-gagement almost as long as he has knownher.”

“Well,” said Catherine, after some mo-ments’ consideration, “you may be able toguess at your brother’s intentions from allthis; but I am sure I cannot. But is not yourfather uncomfortable about it? Does not hewant Captain Tilney to go away? Sure, if yourfather were to speak to him, he would go.”

“My dear Miss Morland,” said Henry, “inthis amiable solicitude for your brother’s com-fort, may you not be a little mistaken? Areyou not carried a little too far? Would hethank you, either on his own account or MissThorpe’s, for supposing that her affection,or at least her good behaviour, is only tobe secured by her seeing nothing of CaptainTilney? Is he safe only in solitude? Or is herheart constant to him only when unsolicitedby anyone else? He cannot think this—andyou may be sure that he would not have youthink it. I will not say, ‘Do not be uneasy,’because I know that you are so, at this mo-ment; but be as little uneasy as you can. Youhave no doubt of the mutual attachment ofyour brother and your friend; depend upon

192 NORTHANGER ABBEY

it, therefore, that real jealousy never can ex-ist between them; depend upon it that no dis-agreement between them can be of any dura-tion. Their hearts are open to each other, asneither heart can be to you; they know exactlywhat is required and what can be borne; andyou may be certain that one will never teasethe other beyond what is known to be pleas-ant.”

Perceiving her still to look doubtful andgrave, he added, “Though Frederick does notleave Bath with us, he will probably remainbut a very short time, perhaps only a fewdays behind us. His leave of absence willsoon expire, and he must return to his regi-ment. And what will then be their acquain-tance? The mess-room will drink IsabellaThorpe for a fortnight, and she will laugh withyour brother over poor Tilney’s passion for amonth.”

Catherine would contend no longer againstcomfort. She had resisted its approaches dur-ing the whole length of a speech, but it nowcarried her captive. Henry Tilney must knowbest. She blamed herself for the extent of herfears, and resolved never to think so seriouslyon the subject again.

Her resolution was supported by Isabella’sbehaviour in their parting interview. TheThorpes spent the last evening of Catherine’sstay in Pulteney Street, and nothing passedbetween the lovers to excite her uneasiness, ormake her quit them in apprehension. Jameswas in excellent spirits, and Isabella most en-gagingly placid. Her tenderness for her friend

CHAPTER 19 193

seemed rather the first feeling of her heart;but that at such a moment was allowable;and once she gave her lover a flat contradic-tion, and once she drew back her hand; butCatherine remembered Henry’s instructions,and placed it all to judicious affection. Theembraces, tears, and promises of the partingfair ones may be fancied.

194 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 20

Mr. and Mrs. Allen were sorry to lose theiryoung friend, whose good humour and cheer-fulness had made her a valuable compan-ion, and in the promotion of whose enjoymenttheir own had been gently increased. Herhappiness in going with Miss Tilney, however,prevented their wishing it otherwise; and,as they were to remain only one more weekin Bath themselves, her quitting them nowwould not long be felt. Mr. Allen attended herto Milsom Street, where she was to breakfast,and saw her seated with the kindest welcomeamong her new friends; but so great was heragitation in finding herself as one of the fam-ily, and so fearful was she of not doing exactlywhat was right, and of not being able to pre-serve their good opinion, that, in the embar-rassment of the first five minutes, she couldalmost have wished to return with him to Pul-teney Street.

Miss Tilney’s manners and Henry’s smilesoon did away some of her unpleasant feel-ings; but still she was far from being at ease;nor could the incessant attentions of the gen-eral himself entirely reassure her. Nay, per-

195

196 NORTHANGER ABBEY

verse as it seemed, she doubted whether shemight not have felt less, had she been less at-tended to. His anxiety for her comfort—hiscontinual solicitations that she would eat, andhis often-expressed fears of her seeing noth-ing to her taste—though never in her life be-fore had she beheld half such variety on abreakfast-table—made it impossible for her toforget for a moment that she was a visitor.She felt utterly unworthy of such respect, andknew not how to reply to it. Her tranquillitywas not improved by the general’s impatiencefor the appearance of his eldest son, nor bythe displeasure he expressed at his lazinesswhen Captain Tilney at last came down. Shewas quite pained by the severity of his father’sreproof, which seemed disproportionate to theoffence; and much was her concern increasedwhen she found herself the principal cause ofthe lecture, and that his tardiness was chieflyresented from being disrespectful to her. Thiswas placing her in a very uncomfortable situ-ation, and she felt great compassion for Cap-tain Tilney, without being able to hope for hisgoodwill.

He listened to his father in silence, and at-tempted not any defence, which confirmed herin fearing that the inquietude of his mind, onIsabella’s account, might, by keeping him longsleepless, have been the real cause of his ris-ing late. It was the first time of her being de-cidedly in his company, and she had hoped tobe now able to form her opinion of him; butshe scarcely heard his voice while his fatherremained in the room; and even afterwards, so

CHAPTER 20 197

much were his spirits affected, she could dis-tinguish nothing but these words, in a whis-per to Eleanor, “How glad I shall be when youare all off.”

The bustle of going was not pleasant. Theclock struck ten while the trunks were carry-ing down, and the general had fixed to be outof Milsom Street by that hour. His greatcoat,instead of being brought for him to put on di-rectly, was spread out in the curricle in whichhe was to accompany his son. The middle seatof the chaise was not drawn out, though therewere three people to go in it, and his daugh-ter’s maid had so crowded it with parcels thatMiss Morland would not have room to sit; and,so much was he influenced by this apprehen-sion when he handed her in, that she hadsome difficulty in saving her own new writing-desk from being thrown out into the street. Atlast, however, the door was closed upon thethree females, and they set off at the soberpace in which the handsome, highly fed fourhorses of a gentleman usually perform a jour-ney of thirty miles: such was the distanceof Northanger from Bath, to be now dividedinto two equal stages. Catherine’s spirits re-vived as they drove from the door; for withMiss Tilney she felt no restraint; and, withthe interest of a road entirely new to her, ofan abbey before, and a curricle behind, shecaught the last view of Bath without any re-gret, and met with every milestone before sheexpected it. The tediousness of a two hours’wait at Petty France, in which there was noth-ing to be done but to eat without being hungry,

198 NORTHANGER ABBEY

and loiter about without anything to see, nextfollowed—and her admiration of the style inwhich they travelled, of the fashionable chaiseand four—postilions handsomely liveried, ris-ing so regularly in their stirrups, and numer-ous outriders properly mounted, sunk a lit-tle under this consequent inconvenience. Hadtheir party been perfectly agreeable, the delaywould have been nothing; but General Tilney,though so charming a man, seemed always acheck upon his children’s spirits, and scarcelyanything was said but by himself; the obser-vation of which, with his discontent at what-ever the inn afforded, and his angry impa-tience at the waiters, made Catherine growevery moment more in awe of him, and ap-peared to lengthen the two hours into four. Atlast, however, the order of release was given;and much was Catherine then surprised bythe general’s proposal of her taking his placein his son’s curricle for the rest of the journey:“the day was fine, and he was anxious for herseeing as much of the country as possible.”

The remembrance of Mr. Allen’s opinion,respecting young men’s open carriages, madeher blush at the mention of such a plan,and her first thought was to decline it; buther second was of greater deference for Gen-eral Tilney’s judgment; he could not pro-pose anything improper for her; and, in thecourse of a few minutes, she found herselfwith Henry in the curricle, as happy a be-ing as ever existed. A very short trial con-vinced her that a curricle was the prettiestequipage in the world; the chaise and four

CHAPTER 20 199

wheeled off with some grandeur, to be sure,but it was a heavy and troublesome busi-ness, and she could not easily forget its hav-ing stopped two hours at Petty France. Halfthe time would have been enough for the cur-ricle, and so nimbly were the light horses dis-posed to move, that, had not the general cho-sen to have his own carriage lead the way,they could have passed it with ease in halfa minute. But the merit of the curricle didnot all belong to the horses; Henry drove sowell—so quietly—without making any distur-bance, without parading to her, or swearing atthem: so different from the only gentleman-coachman whom it was in her power to com-pare him with! And then his hat sat sowell, and the innumerable capes of his great-coat looked so becomingly important! To bedriven by him, next to being dancing withhim, was certainly the greatest happiness inthe world. In addition to every other de-light, she had now that of listening to herown praise; of being thanked at least, on hissister’s account, for her kindness in thus be-coming her visitor; of hearing it ranked asreal friendship, and described as creating realgratitude. His sister, he said, was uncom-fortably circumstanced—she had no femalecompanion—and, in the frequent absence ofher father, was sometimes without any com-panion at all.

“But how can that be?” said Catherine.“Are not you with her?”

“Northanger is not more than half myhome; I have an establishment at my own

200 NORTHANGER ABBEY

house in Woodston, which is nearly twentymiles from my father’s, and some of my timeis necessarily spent there.”

“How sorry you must be for that!”“I am always sorry to leave Eleanor.”“Yes; but besides your affection for her, you

must be so fond of the abbey! After beingused to such a home as the abbey, an ordinaryparsonage-house must be very disagreeable.”

He smiled, and said, “You have formed avery favourable idea of the abbey.”

“To be sure, I have. Is not it a fine old place,just like what one reads about?”

“And are you prepared to encounter allthe horrors that a building such as ‘whatone reads about’ may produce? Have you astout heart? Nerves fit for sliding panels andtapestry?”

“Oh! yes—I do not think I should be easilyfrightened, because there would be so manypeople in the house—and besides, it has neverbeen uninhabited and left deserted for years,and then the family come back to it unawares,without giving any notice, as generally hap-pens.”

“No, certainly. We shall not have to ex-plore our way into a hall dimly lighted bythe expiring embers of a wood fire—nor beobliged to spread our beds on the floor of aroom without windows, doors, or furniture.But you must be aware that when a younglady is (by whatever means) introduced intoa dwelling of this kind, she is always lodgedapart from the rest of the family. While theysnugly repair to their own end of the house,

CHAPTER 20 201

she is formally conducted by Dorothy, the an-cient housekeeper, up a different staircase,and along many gloomy passages, into anapartment never used since some cousin orkin died in it about twenty years before. Canyou stand such a ceremony as this? Will notyour mind misgive you when you find your-self in this gloomy chamber—too lofty and ex-tensive for you, with only the feeble rays of asingle lamp to take in its size—its walls hungwith tapestry exhibiting figures as large aslife, and the bed, of dark green stuff or pur-ple velvet, presenting even a funereal appear-ance? Will not your heart sink within you?”

“Oh! But this will not happen to me, I amsure.”

“How fearfully will you examine the furni-ture of your apartment! And what will youdiscern? Not tables, toilettes, wardrobes, ordrawers, but on one side perhaps the remainsof a broken lute, on the other a ponderouschest which no efforts can open, and over thefireplace the portrait of some handsome war-rior, whose features will so incomprehensiblystrike you, that you will not be able to with-draw your eyes from it. Dorothy, meanwhile,no less struck by your appearance, gazes onyou in great agitation, and drops a few unin-telligible hints. To raise your spirits, more-over, she gives you reason to suppose that thepart of the abbey you inhabit is undoubtedlyhaunted, and informs you that you will nothave a single domestic within call. With thisparting cordial she curtsies off—you listen tothe sound of her receding footsteps as long as

202 NORTHANGER ABBEY

the last echo can reach you—and when, withfainting spirits, you attempt to fasten yourdoor, you discover, with increased alarm, thatit has no lock.”

“Oh! Mr. Tilney, how frightful! This is justlike a book! But it cannot really happen tome. I am sure your housekeeper is not reallyDorothy. Well, what then?”

“Nothing further to alarm perhaps may oc-cur the first night. After surmounting yourunconquerable horror of the bed, you will re-tire to rest, and get a few hours’ unquiet slum-ber. But on the second, or at farthest thethird night after your arrival, you will prob-ably have a violent storm. Peals of thun-der so loud as to seem to shake the edificeto its foundation will roll round the neigh-bouring mountains—and during the frightfulgusts of wind which accompany it, you willprobably think you discern (for your lampis not extinguished) one part of the hangingmore violently agitated than the rest. Un-able of course to repress your curiosity in sofavourable a moment for indulging it, you willinstantly arise, and throwing your dressing-gown around you, proceed to examine thismystery. After a very short search, you willdiscover a division in the tapestry so artfullyconstructed as to defy the minutest inspec-tion, and on opening it, a door will immedi-ately appear—which door, being only securedby massy bars and a padlock, you will, aftera few efforts, succeed in opening—and, withyour lamp in your hand, will pass through itinto a small vaulted room.”

CHAPTER 20 203

“No, indeed; I should be too much fright-ened to do any such thing.”

“What! Not when Dorothy has given youto understand that there is a secret subter-raneous communication between your apart-ment and the chapel of St. Anthony, scarcelytwo miles off? Could you shrink from so sim-ple an adventure? No, no, you will proceedinto this small vaulted room, and throughthis into several others, without perceivinganything very remarkable in either. In oneperhaps there may be a dagger, in anothera few drops of blood, and in a third the re-mains of some instrument of torture; butthere being nothing in all this out of the com-mon way, and your lamp being nearly ex-hausted, you will return towards your ownapartment. In repassing through the smallvaulted room, however, your eyes will be at-tracted towards a large, old-fashioned cabinetof ebony and gold, which, though narrowly ex-amining the furniture before, you had passedunnoticed. Impelled by an irresistible pre-sentiment, you will eagerly advance to it, un-lock its folding doors, and search into everydrawer—but for some time without discover-ing anything of importance—perhaps nothingbut a considerable hoard of diamonds. Atlast, however, by touching a secret spring, aninner compartment will open—a roll of pa-per appears—you seize it—it contains manysheets of manuscript—you hasten with theprecious treasure into your own chamber,but scarcely have you been able to decipher‘Oh! Thou—whomsoever thou mayst be, into

204 NORTHANGER ABBEY

whose hands these memoirs of the wretchedMatilda may fall’—when your lamp suddenlyexpires in the socket, and leaves you in totaldarkness.”

“Oh! No, no—do not say so. Well, go on.”But Henry was too much amused by the

interest he had raised to be able to carry itfarther; he could no longer command solem-nity either of subject or voice, and was obligedto entreat her to use her own fancy in the pe-rusal of Matilda’s woes. Catherine, recollect-ing herself, grew ashamed of her eagerness,and began earnestly to assure him that herattention had been fixed without the small-est apprehension of really meeting with whathe related. “Miss Tilney, she was sure, wouldnever put her into such a chamber as he haddescribed! She was not at all afraid.”

As they drew near the end of their journey,her impatience for a sight of the abbey—forsome time suspended by his conversation onsubjects very different—returned in full force,and every bend in the road was expected withsolemn awe to afford a glimpse of its massywalls of grey stone, rising amidst a groveof ancient oaks, with the last beams of thesun playing in beautiful splendour on its highGothic windows. But so low did the buildingstand, that she found herself passing throughthe great gates of the lodge into the verygrounds of Northanger, without having dis-cerned even an antique chimney.

She knew not that she had any right to besurprised, but there was a something in thismode of approach which she certainly had not

CHAPTER 20 205

expected. To pass between lodges of a mod-ern appearance, to find herself with such easein the very precincts of the abbey, and drivenso rapidly along a smooth, level road of finegravel, without obstacle, alarm, or solemnityof any kind, struck her as odd and inconsis-tent. She was not long at leisure, however, forsuch considerations. A sudden scud of rain,driving full in her face, made it impossible forher to observe anything further, and fixed allher thoughts on the welfare of her new strawbonnet; and she was actually under the abbeywalls, was springing, with Henry’s assistance,from the carriage, was beneath the shelter ofthe old porch, and had even passed on to thehall, where her friend and the general werewaiting to welcome her, without feeling oneawful foreboding of future misery to herself, orone moment’s suspicion of any past scenes ofhorror being acted within the solemn edifice.The breeze had not seemed to waft the sighsof the murdered to her; it had wafted nothingworse than a thick mizzling rain; and havinggiven a good shake to her habit, she was readyto be shown into the common drawing-room,and capable of considering where she was.

An abbey! Yes, it was delightful to bereally in an abbey! But she doubted, asshe looked round the room, whether anythingwithin her observation would have given herthe consciousness. The furniture was in allthe profusion and elegance of modern taste.The fireplace, where she had expected theample width and ponderous carving of for-mer times, was contracted to a Rumford, with

206 NORTHANGER ABBEY

slabs of plain though handsome marble, andornaments over it of the prettiest Englishchina. The windows, to which she lookedwith peculiar dependence, from having heardthe general talk of his preserving them intheir Gothic form with reverential care, wereyet less what her fancy had portrayed. Tobe sure, the pointed arch was preserved—theform of them was Gothic—they might be evencasements—but every pane was so large, soclear, so light! To an imagination which hadhoped for the smallest divisions, and the heav-iest stone-work, for painted glass, dirt, andcobwebs, the difference was very distressing.

The general, perceiving how her eye wasemployed, began to talk of the smallnessof the room and simplicity of the furniture,where everything, being for daily use, pre-tended only to comfort, etc.; flattering himself,however, that there were some apartments inthe Abbey not unworthy her notice—and wasproceeding to mention the costly gilding of onein particular, when, taking out his watch, hestopped short to pronounce it with surprisewithin twenty minutes of five! This seemedthe word of separation, and Catherine foundherself hurried away by Miss Tilney in sucha manner as convinced her that the strictestpunctuality to the family hours would be ex-pected at Northanger.

Returning through the large and lofty hall,they ascended a broad staircase of shiningoak, which, after many flights and manylanding-places, brought them upon a long,wide gallery. On one side it had a range

CHAPTER 20 207

of doors, and it was lighted on the otherby windows which Catherine had only timeto discover looked into a quadrangle, beforeMiss Tilney led the way into a chamber, andscarcely staying to hope she would find it com-fortable, left her with an anxious entreatythat she would make as little alteration aspossible in her dress.

208 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 21

A moment’s glance was enough to satisfyCatherine that her apartment was very un-like the one which Henry had endeavoured toalarm her by the description of. It was byno means unreasonably large, and containedneither tapestry nor velvet. The walls werepapered, the floor was carpeted; the windowswere neither less perfect nor more dim thanthose of the drawing-room below; the furni-ture, though not of the latest fashion, washandsome and comfortable, and the air of theroom altogether far from uncheerful. Herheart instantaneously at ease on this point,she resolved to lose no time in particular ex-amination of anything, as she greatly dreadeddisobliging the general by any delay. Herhabit therefore was thrown off with all pos-sible haste, and she was preparing to unpinthe linen package, which the chaise-seat hadconveyed for her immediate accommodation,when her eye suddenly fell on a large highchest, standing back in a deep recess on oneside of the fireplace. The sight of it madeher start; and, forgetting everything else, shestood gazing on it in motionless wonder, while

209

210 NORTHANGER ABBEY

these thoughts crossed her:“This is strange indeed! I did not expect

such a sight as this! An immense heavy chest!What can it hold? Why should it be placedhere? Pushed back too, as if meant to be out ofsight! I will look into it—cost me what it may,I will look into it—and directly too—by day-light. If I stay till evening my candle may goout.” She advanced and examined it closely:it was of cedar, curiously inlaid with somedarker wood, and raised, about a foot fromthe ground, on a carved stand of the same.The lock was silver, though tarnished fromage; at each end were the imperfect remainsof handles also of silver, broken perhaps pre-maturely by some strange violence; and, onthe centre of the lid, was a mysterious cipher,in the same metal. Catherine bent over it in-tently, but without being able to distinguishanything with certainty. She could not, inwhatever direction she took it, believe the lastletter to be a T; and yet that it should be any-thing else in that house was a circumstance toraise no common degree of astonishment. Ifnot originally theirs, by what strange eventscould it have fallen into the Tilney family?

Her fearful curiosity was every momentgrowing greater; and seizing, with tremblinghands, the hasp of the lock, she resolved at allhazards to satisfy herself at least as to its con-tents. With difficulty, for something seemedto resist her efforts, she raised the lid a fewinches; but at that moment a sudden knock-ing at the door of the room made her, start-ing, quit her hold, and the lid closed with

CHAPTER 21 211

alarming violence. This ill-timed intruder wasMiss Tilney’s maid, sent by her mistress to beof use to Miss Morland; and though Cather-ine immediately dismissed her, it recalled herto the sense of what she ought to be doing,and forced her, in spite of her anxious desireto penetrate this mystery, to proceed in herdressing without further delay. Her progresswas not quick, for her thoughts and her eyeswere still bent on the object so well calcu-lated to interest and alarm; and though shedared not waste a moment upon a second at-tempt, she could not remain many paces fromthe chest. At length, however, having slippedone arm into her gown, her toilette seemedso nearly finished that the impatience of hercuriosity might safely be indulged. One mo-ment surely might be spared; and, so desper-ate should be the exertion of her strength,that, unless secured by supernatural means,the lid in one moment should be thrown back.With this spirit she sprang forward, and herconfidence did not deceive her. Her resoluteeffort threw back the lid, and gave to her as-tonished eyes the view of a white cotton coun-terpane, properly folded, reposing at one endof the chest in undisputed possession!

She was gazing on it with the first blushof surprise when Miss Tilney, anxious forher friend’s being ready, entered the room,and to the rising shame of having harbouredfor some minutes an absurd expectation, wasthen added the shame of being caught in soidle a search. “That is a curious old chest, isnot it?” said Miss Tilney, as Catherine hastily

212 NORTHANGER ABBEY

closed it and turned away to the glass. “It isimpossible to say how many generations it hasbeen here. How it came to be first put in thisroom I know not, but I have not had it moved,because I thought it might sometimes be ofuse in holding hats and bonnets. The worst ofit is that its weight makes it difficult to open.In that corner, however, it is at least out of theway.”

Catherine had no leisure for speech, beingat once blushing, tying her gown, and form-ing wise resolutions with the most violent dis-patch. Miss Tilney gently hinted her fearof being late; and in half a minute they randownstairs together, in an alarm not whollyunfounded, for General Tilney was pacing thedrawing-room, his watch in his hand, andhaving, on the very instant of their entering,pulled the bell with violence, ordered “Dinnerto be on table directly!”

Catherine trembled at the emphasis withwhich he spoke, and sat pale and breathless,in a most humble mood, concerned for his chil-dren, and detesting old chests; and the gen-eral, recovering his politeness as he lookedat her, spent the rest of his time in scoldinghis daughter for so foolishly hurrying her fairfriend, who was absolutely out of breath fromhaste, when there was not the least occasionfor hurry in the world: but Catherine couldnot at all get over the double distress of hav-ing involved her friend in a lecture and beena great simpleton herself, till they were hap-pily seated at the dinner-table, when the gen-eral’s complacent smiles, and a good appetite

CHAPTER 21 213

of her own, restored her to peace. The dining-parlour was a noble room, suitable in its di-mensions to a much larger drawing-room thanthe one in common use, and fitted up in a styleof luxury and expense which was almost loston the unpractised eye of Catherine, who sawlittle more than its spaciousness and the num-ber of their attendants. Of the former, shespoke aloud her admiration; and the general,with a very gracious countenance, acknowl-edged that it was by no means an ill-sizedroom, and further confessed that, though ascareless on such subjects as most people, hedid look upon a tolerably large eating-roomas one of the necessaries of life; he supposed,however, “that she must have been used tomuch better-sized apartments at Mr. Allen’s?”

“No, indeed,” was Catherine’s honest as-surance; “Mr. Allen’s dining-parlour was notmore than half as large,” and she had neverseen so large a room as this in her life. Thegeneral’s good humour increased. Why, as hehad such rooms, he thought it would be simplenot to make use of them; but, upon his hon-our, he believed there might be more comfortin rooms of only half their size. Mr. Allen’shouse, he was sure, must be exactly of the truesize for rational happiness.

The evening passed without any furtherdisturbance, and, in the occasional absence ofGeneral Tilney, with much positive cheerful-ness. It was only in his presence that Cather-ine felt the smallest fatigue from her journey;and even then, even in moments of languoror restraint, a sense of general happiness pre-

214 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ponderated, and she could think of her friendsin Bath without one wish of being with them.

The night was stormy; the wind had beenrising at intervals the whole afternoon; andby the time the party broke up, it blew andrained violently. Catherine, as she crossedthe hall, listened to the tempest with sensa-tions of awe; and, when she heard it rageround a corner of the ancient building andclose with sudden fury a distant door, felt forthe first time that she was really in an abbey.Yes, these were characteristic sounds; theybrought to her recollection a countless vari-ety of dreadful situations and horrid scenes,which such buildings had witnessed, and suchstorms ushered in; and most heartily did sherejoice in the happier circumstances attend-ing her entrance within walls so solemn! Shehad nothing to dread from midnight assas-sins or drunken gallants. Henry had certainlybeen only in jest in what he had told her thatmorning. In a house so furnished, and soguarded, she could have nothing to explore orto suffer, and might go to her bedroom as se-curely as if it had been her own chamber atFullerton. Thus wisely fortifying her mind, asshe proceeded upstairs, she was enabled, es-pecially on perceiving that Miss Tilney sleptonly two doors from her, to enter her roomwith a tolerably stout heart; and her spir-its were immediately assisted by the cheerfulblaze of a wood fire. “How much better is this,”said she, as she walked to the fender—“howmuch better to find a fire ready lit, than tohave to wait shivering in the cold till all the

CHAPTER 21 215

family are in bed, as so many poor girls havebeen obliged to do, and then to have a faith-ful old servant frightening one by coming inwith a faggot! How glad I am that Northangeris what it is! If it had been like some otherplaces, I do not know that, in such a night asthis, I could have answered for my courage:but now, to be sure, there is nothing to alarmone.”

She looked round the room. The windowcurtains seemed in motion. It could be noth-ing but the violence of the wind penetratingthrough the divisions of the shutters; and shestepped boldly forward, carelessly humming atune, to assure herself of its being so, peepedcourageously behind each curtain, saw noth-ing on either low window seat to scare her,and on placing a hand against the shutter, feltthe strongest conviction of the wind’s force. Aglance at the old chest, as she turned awayfrom this examination, was not without itsuse; she scorned the causeless fears of an idlefancy, and began with a most happy indiffer-ence to prepare herself for bed. “She shouldtake her time; she should not hurry herself;she did not care if she were the last personup in the house. But she would not makeup her fire; that would seem cowardly, as ifshe wished for the protection of light after shewere in bed.” The fire therefore died away, andCatherine, having spent the best part of anhour in her arrangements, was beginning tothink of stepping into bed, when, on giving aparting glance round the room, she was struckby the appearance of a high, old-fashioned

216 NORTHANGER ABBEY

black cabinet, which, though in a situationconspicuous enough, had never caught her no-tice before. Henry’s words, his description ofthe ebony cabinet which was to escape her ob-servation at first, immediately rushed acrossher; and though there could be nothing reallyin it, there was something whimsical, it wascertainly a very remarkable coincidence! Shetook her candle and looked closely at the cab-inet. It was not absolutely ebony and gold;but it was japan, black and yellow japan of thehandsomest kind; and as she held her candle,the yellow had very much the effect of gold.The key was in the door, and she had a strangefancy to look into it; not, however, with thesmallest expectation of finding anything, butit was so very odd, after what Henry had said.In short, she could not sleep till she had ex-amined it. So, placing the candle with greatcaution on a chair, she seized the key witha very tremulous hand and tried to turn it;but it resisted her utmost strength. Alarmed,but not discouraged, she tried it another way;a bolt flew, and she believed herself success-ful; but how strangely mysterious! The doorwas still immovable. She paused a moment inbreathless wonder. The wind roared down thechimney, the rain beat in torrents against thewindows, and everything seemed to speak theawfulness of her situation. To retire to bed,however, unsatisfied on such a point, wouldbe vain, since sleep must be impossible withthe consciousness of a cabinet so mysteriouslyclosed in her immediate vicinity. Again, there-fore, she applied herself to the key, and after

CHAPTER 21 217

moving it in every possible way for some in-stants with the determined celerity of hope’slast effort, the door suddenly yielded to herhand: her heart leaped with exultation atsuch a victory, and having thrown open eachfolding door, the second being secured only bybolts of less wonderful construction than thelock, though in that her eye could not discernanything unusual, a double range of smalldrawers appeared in view, with some largerdrawers above and below them; and in thecentre, a small door, closed also with a lockand key, secured in all probability a cavity ofimportance.

Catherine’s heart beat quick, but hercourage did not fail her. With a cheek flushedby hope, and an eye straining with curiosity,her fingers grasped the handle of a drawerand drew it forth. It was entirely empty. Withless alarm and greater eagerness she seizeda second, a third, a fourth; each was equallyempty. Not one was left unsearched, and innot one was anything found. Well read inthe art of concealing a treasure, the possibil-ity of false linings to the drawers did not es-cape her, and she felt round each with anxiousacuteness in vain. The place in the middlealone remained now unexplored; and thoughshe had “never from the first had the small-est idea of finding anything in any part ofthe cabinet, and was not in the least disap-pointed at her ill success thus far, it wouldbe foolish not to examine it thoroughly whileshe was about it.” It was some time howeverbefore she could unfasten the door, the same

218 NORTHANGER ABBEY

difficulty occurring in the management of thisinner lock as of the outer; but at length itdid open; and not vain, as hitherto, was hersearch; her quick eyes directly fell on a rollof paper pushed back into the further part ofthe cavity, apparently for concealment, andher feelings at that moment were indescrib-able. Her heart fluttered, her knees trembled,and her cheeks grew pale. She seized, withan unsteady hand, the precious manuscript,for half a glance sufficed to ascertain writtencharacters; and while she acknowledged withawful sensations this striking exemplificationof what Henry had foretold, resolved instantlyto peruse every line before she attempted torest.

The dimness of the light her candle emit-ted made her turn to it with alarm; but therewas no danger of its sudden extinction; it hadyet some hours to burn; and that she mightnot have any greater difficulty in distinguish-ing the writing than what its ancient datemight occasion, she hastily snuffed it. Alas! Itwas snuffed and extinguished in one. A lampcould not have expired with more awful effect.Catherine, for a few moments, was motionlesswith horror. It was done completely; not aremnant of light in the wick could give hope tothe rekindling breath. Darkness impenetra-ble and immovable filled the room. A violentgust of wind, rising with sudden fury, addedfresh horror to the moment. Catherine trem-bled from head to foot. In the pause whichsucceeded, a sound like receding footsteps andthe closing of a distant door struck on her af-

CHAPTER 21 219

frighted ear. Human nature could support nomore. A cold sweat stood on her forehead, themanuscript fell from her hand, and gropingher way to the bed, she jumped hastily in, andsought some suspension of agony by creepingfar underneath the clothes. To close her eyesin sleep that night, she felt must be entirelyout of the question. With a curiosity so justlyawakened, and feelings in every way so agi-tated, repose must be absolutely impossible.The storm too abroad so dreadful! She had notbeen used to feel alarm from wind, but nowevery blast seemed fraught with awful intelli-gence. The manuscript so wonderfully found,so wonderfully accomplishing the morning’sprediction, how was it to be accounted for?What could it contain? To whom could it re-late? By what means could it have been solong concealed? And how singularly strangethat it should fall to her lot to discover it!Till she had made herself mistress of its con-tents, however, she could have neither reposenor comfort; and with the sun’s first rays shewas determined to peruse it. But many werethe tedious hours which must yet intervene.She shuddered, tossed about in her bed, andenvied every quiet sleeper. The storm stillraged, and various were the noises, more ter-rific even than the wind, which struck at in-tervals on her startled ear. The very curtainsof her bed seemed at one moment in motion,and at another the lock of her door was agi-tated, as if by the attempt of somebody to en-ter. Hollow murmurs seemed to creep alongthe gallery, and more than once her blood

220 NORTHANGER ABBEY

was chilled by the sound of distant moans.Hour after hour passed away, and the wea-ried Catherine had heard three proclaimed byall the clocks in the house before the tempestsubsided or she unknowingly fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER 22

The housemaid’s folding back her window-shutters at eight o’clock the next day was thesound which first roused Catherine; and sheopened her eyes, wondering that they couldever have been closed, on objects of cheer-fulness; her fire was already burning, anda bright morning had succeeded the tempestof the night. Instantaneously, with the con-sciousness of existence, returned her recollec-tion of the manuscript; and springing fromthe bed in the very moment of the maid’s go-ing away, she eagerly collected every scatteredsheet which had burst from the roll on itsfalling to the ground, and flew back to en-joy the luxury of their perusal on her pillow.She now plainly saw that she must not ex-pect a manuscript of equal length with thegenerality of what she had shuddered over inbooks, for the roll, seeming to consist entirelyof small disjointed sheets, was altogether butof trifling size, and much less than she hadsupposed it to be at first.

Her greedy eye glanced rapidly over apage. She started at its import. Could it bepossible, or did not her senses play her false?

221

222 NORTHANGER ABBEY

An inventory of linen, in coarse and moderncharacters, seemed all that was before her! Ifthe evidence of sight might be trusted, sheheld a washing-bill in her hand. She seizedanother sheet, and saw the same articles withlittle variation; a third, a fourth, and a fifthpresented nothing new. Shirts, stockings, cra-vats, and waistcoats faced her in each. Twoothers, penned by the same hand, marked anexpenditure scarcely more interesting, in let-ters, hair-powder, shoe-string, and breeches-ball. And the larger sheet, which had enclosedthe rest, seemed by its first cramp line, “Topoultice chestnut mare”—a farrier’s bill! Suchwas the collection of papers (left perhaps, asshe could then suppose, by the negligence ofa servant in the place whence she had takenthem) which had filled her with expectationand alarm, and robbed her of half her night’srest! She felt humbled to the dust. Could notthe adventure of the chest have taught herwisdom? A corner of it, catching her eye asshe lay, seemed to rise up in judgment againsther. Nothing could now be clearer than the ab-surdity of her recent fancies. To suppose thata manuscript of many generations back couldhave remained undiscovered in a room suchas that, so modern, so habitable!—Or that sheshould be the first to possess the skill of un-locking a cabinet, the key of which was opento all!

How could she have so imposed on herself?Heaven forbid that Henry Tilney should everknow her folly! And it was in a great mea-sure his own doing, for had not the cabinet

CHAPTER 22 223

appeared so exactly to agree with his descrip-tion of her adventures, she should never havefelt the smallest curiosity about it. This wasthe only comfort that occurred. Impatient toget rid of those hateful evidences of her folly,those detestable papers then scattered overthe bed, she rose directly, and folding them upas nearly as possible in the same shape as be-fore, returned them to the same spot withinthe cabinet, with a very hearty wish that nountoward accident might ever bring them for-ward again, to disgrace her even with herself.

Why the locks should have been so difficultto open, however, was still something remark-able, for she could now manage them with per-fect ease. In this there was surely somethingmysterious, and she indulged in the flatteringsuggestion for half a minute, till the possibil-ity of the door’s having been at first unlocked,and of being herself its fastener, darted intoher head, and cost her another blush.

She got away as soon as she could from aroom in which her conduct produced such un-pleasant reflections, and found her way withall speed to the breakfast-parlour, as it hadbeen pointed out to her by Miss Tilney theevening before. Henry was alone in it; andhis immediate hope of her having been undis-turbed by the tempest, with an arch referenceto the character of the building they inhab-ited, was rather distressing. For the worldwould she not have her weakness suspected,and yet, unequal to an absolute falsehood,was constrained to acknowledge that the windhad kept her awake a little. “But we have a

224 NORTHANGER ABBEY

charming morning after it,” she added, desir-ing to get rid of the subject; “and storms andsleeplessness are nothing when they are over.What beautiful hyacinths! I have just learntto love a hyacinth.”

“And how might you learn? By accident orargument?”

“Your sister taught me; I cannot tell how.Mrs. Allen used to take pains, year after year,to make me like them; but I never could, tillI saw them the other day in Milsom Street; Iam naturally indifferent about flowers.”

“But now you love a hyacinth. So much thebetter. You have gained a new source of en-joyment, and it is well to have as many holdsupon happiness as possible. Besides, a tastefor flowers is always desirable in your sex, as ameans of getting you out of doors, and tempt-ing you to more frequent exercise than youwould otherwise take. And though the love ofa hyacinth may be rather domestic, who cantell, the sentiment once raised, but you mayin time come to love a rose?”

“But I do not want any such pursuit to getme out of doors. The pleasure of walking andbreathing fresh air is enough for me, and infine weather I am out more than half my time.Mamma says I am never within.”

“At any rate, however, I am pleased thatyou have learnt to love a hyacinth. The merehabit of learning to love is the thing; and ateachableness of disposition in a young ladyis a great blessing. Has my sister a pleasantmode of instruction?”

Catherine was saved the embarrassment

CHAPTER 22 225

of attempting an answer by the entrance ofthe general, whose smiling compliments an-nounced a happy state of mind, but whosegentle hint of sympathetic early rising did notadvance her composure.

The elegance of the breakfast set forceditself on Catherine’s notice when they wereseated at table; and, luckily, it had been thegeneral’s choice. He was enchanted by her ap-probation of his taste, confessed it to be neatand simple, thought it right to encourage themanufacture of his country; and for his part,to his uncritical palate, the tea was as wellflavoured from the clay of Staffordshire, asfrom that of Dresden or Save. But this wasquite an old set, purchased two years ago. Themanufacture was much improved since thattime; he had seen some beautiful specimenswhen last in town, and had he not been per-fectly without vanity of that kind, might havebeen tempted to order a new set. He trusted,however, that an opportunity might ere longoccur of selecting one—though not for him-self. Catherine was probably the only one ofthe party who did not understand him.

Shortly after breakfast Henry left themfor Woodston, where business required andwould keep him two or three days. Theyall attended in the hall to see him mounthis horse, and immediately on re-entering thebreakfast-room, Catherine walked to a win-dow in the hope of catching another glimpseof his figure. “This is a somewhat heavy callupon your brother’s fortitude,” observed thegeneral to Eleanor. “Woodston will make but

226 NORTHANGER ABBEY

a sombre appearance today.”“Is it a pretty place?” asked Catherine.“What say you, Eleanor? Speak your opin-

ion, for ladies can best tell the taste of ladiesin regard to places as well as men. I thinkit would be acknowledged by the most impar-tial eye to have many recommendations. Thehouse stands among fine meadows facing thesouth-east, with an excellent kitchen-gardenin the same aspect; the walls surroundingwhich I built and stocked myself about tenyears ago, for the benefit of my son. It is afamily living, Miss Morland; and the propertyin the place being chiefly my own, you may be-lieve I take care that it shall not be a bad one.Did Henry’s income depend solely on this liv-ing, he would not be ill-provided for. Perhapsit may seem odd, that with only two youngerchildren, I should think any profession neces-sary for him; and certainly there are momentswhen we could all wish him disengaged fromevery tie of business. But though I may not ex-actly make converts of you young ladies, I amsure your father, Miss Morland, would agreewith me in thinking it expedient to give everyyoung man some employment. The money isnothing, it is not an object, but employment isthe thing. Even Frederick, my eldest son, yousee, who will perhaps inherit as considerablea landed property as any private man in thecounty, has his profession.”

The imposing effect of this last argumentwas equal to his wishes. The silence of thelady proved it to be unanswerable.

Something had been said the evening be-

CHAPTER 22 227

fore of her being shown over the house, andhe now offered himself as her conductor; andthough Catherine had hoped to explore it ac-companied only by his daughter, it was a pro-posal of too much happiness in itself, underany circumstances, not to be gladly accepted;for she had been already eighteen hours in theabbey, and had seen only a few of its rooms.The netting-box, just leisurely drawn forth,was closed with joyful haste, and she wasready to attend him in a moment. “And whenthey had gone over the house, he promisedhimself moreover the pleasure of accompa-nying her into the shrubberies and garden.”She curtsied her acquiescence. “But perhapsit might be more agreeable to her to makethose her first object. The weather was atpresent favourable, and at this time of yearthe uncertainty was very great of its contin-uing so. Which would she prefer? He wasequally at her service. Which did his daughterthink would most accord with her fair friend’swishes? But he thought he could discern. Yes,he certainly read in Miss Morland’s eyes a ju-dicious desire of making use of the presentsmiling weather. But when did she judgeamiss? The abbey would be always safe anddry. He yielded implicitly, and would fetchhis hat and attend them in a moment.” Heleft the room, and Catherine, with a disap-pointed, anxious face, began to speak of herunwillingness that he should be taking themout of doors against his own inclination, un-der a mistaken idea of pleasing her; but shewas stopped by Miss Tilney’s saying, with a

228 NORTHANGER ABBEY

little confusion, “I believe it will be wisest totake the morning while it is so fine; and do notbe uneasy on my father’s account; he alwayswalks out at this time of day.”

Catherine did not exactly know how thiswas to be understood. Why was Miss Tilneyembarrassed? Could there be any unwilling-ness on the general’s side to show her over theabbey? The proposal was his own. And wasnot it odd that he should always take his walkso early? Neither her father nor Mr. Allendid so. It was certainly very provoking. Shewas all impatience to see the house, and hadscarcely any curiosity about the grounds. IfHenry had been with them indeed! But nowshe should not know what was picturesquewhen she saw it. Such were her thoughts, butshe kept them to herself, and put on her bon-net in patient discontent.

She was struck, however, beyond her ex-pectation, by the grandeur of the abbey, asshe saw it for the first time from the lawn.The whole building enclosed a large court; andtwo sides of the quadrangle, rich in Gothic or-naments, stood forward for admiration. Theremainder was shut off by knolls of old trees,or luxuriant plantations, and the steep woodyhills rising behind, to give it shelter, werebeautiful even in the leafless month of March.Catherine had seen nothing to compare withit; and her feelings of delight were so strong,that without waiting for any better authority,she boldly burst forth in wonder and praise.The general listened with assenting grati-tude; and it seemed as if his own estimation of

CHAPTER 22 229

Northanger had waited unfixed till that hour.The kitchen-garden was to be next ad-

mired, and he led the way to it across a smallportion of the park.

The number of acres contained in thisgarden was such as Catherine could not lis-ten to without dismay, being more than dou-ble the extent of all Mr. Allen’s, as well herfather’s, including church-yard and orchard.The walls seemed countless in number, end-less in length; a village of hot-houses seemedto arise among them, and a whole parish to beat work within the enclosure. The general wasflattered by her looks of surprise, which toldhim almost as plainly, as he soon forced her totell him in words, that she had never seen anygardens at all equal to them before; and hethen modestly owned that, “without any am-bition of that sort himself—without any solic-itude about it—he did believe them to be un-rivalled in the kingdom. If he had a hobby-horse, it was that. He loved a garden. Thoughcareless enough in most matters of eating, heloved good fruit—or if he did not, his friendsand children did. There were great vexations,however, attending such a garden as his. Theutmost care could not always secure the mostvaluable fruits. The pinery had yielded onlyone hundred in the last year. Mr. Allen, hesupposed, must feel these inconveniences aswell as himself.”

“No, not at all. Mr. Allen did not care aboutthe garden, and never went into it.”

With a triumphant smile of self-satisfaction, the general wished he could

230 NORTHANGER ABBEY

do the same, for he never entered his, withoutbeing vexed in some way or other, by itsfalling short of his plan.

“How were Mr. Allen’s succession-housesworked?” describing the nature of his own asthey entered them.

“Mr. Allen had only one small hot-house,which Mrs. Allen had the use of for her plantsin winter, and there was a fire in it now andthen.”

“He is a happy man!” said the general, witha look of very happy contempt.

Having taken her into every division, andled her under every wall, till she was heartilyweary of seeing and wondering, he sufferedthe girls at last to seize the advantage of anouter door, and then expressing his wish toexamine the effect of some recent alterationsabout the tea-house, proposed it as no un-pleasant extension of their walk, if Miss Mor-land were not tired. “But where are you going,Eleanor? Why do you choose that cold, damppath to it? Miss Morland will get wet. Ourbest way is across the park.”

“This is so favourite a walk of mine,” saidMiss Tilney, “that I always think it the bestand nearest way. But perhaps it may bedamp.”

It was a narrow winding path through athick grove of old Scotch firs; and Catherine,struck by its gloomy aspect, and eager to en-ter it, could not, even by the general’s disap-probation, be kept from stepping forward. Heperceived her inclination, and having againurged the plea of health in vain, was too po-

CHAPTER 22 231

lite to make further opposition. He excusedhimself, however, from attending them: “Therays of the sun were not too cheerful for him,and he would meet them by another course.”He turned away; and Catherine was shockedto find how much her spirits were relieved bythe separation. The shock, however, beingless real than the relief, offered it no injury;and she began to talk with easy gaiety of thedelightful melancholy which such a grove in-spired.

“I am particularly fond of this spot,” saidher companion, with a sigh. “It was mymother’s favourite walk.”

Catherine had never heard Mrs. Tilneymentioned in the family before, and the in-terest excited by this tender remembranceshowed itself directly in her altered counte-nance, and in the attentive pause with whichshe waited for something more.

“I used to walk here so often with her!”added Eleanor; “though I never loved it then,as I have loved it since. At that time indeed Iused to wonder at her choice. But her memoryendears it now.”

“And ought it not,” reflected Catherine, “toendear it to her husband? Yet the generalwould not enter it.” Miss Tilney continuingsilent, she ventured to say, “Her death musthave been a great affliction!”

“A great and increasing one,” replied theother, in a low voice. “I was only thirteenwhen it happened; and though I felt my lossperhaps as strongly as one so young could feelit, I did not, I could not, then know what a

232 NORTHANGER ABBEY

loss it was.” She stopped for a moment, andthen added, with great firmness, “I have nosister, you know—and though Henry—thoughmy brothers are very affectionate, and Henryis a great deal here, which I am most thank-ful for, it is impossible for me not to be oftensolitary.”

“To be sure you must miss him very much.”“A mother would have been always

present. A mother would have been a constantfriend; her influence would have been beyondall other.”

“Was she a very charming woman? Wasshe handsome? Was there any picture ofher in the abbey? And why had she beenso partial to that grove? Was it from de-jection of spirits?”—were questions now ea-gerly poured forth; the first three received aready affirmative, the two others were passedby; and Catherine’s interest in the deceasedMrs. Tilney augmented with every question,whether answered or not. Of her unhappinessin marriage, she felt persuaded. The generalcertainly had been an unkind husband. Hedid not love her walk: could he therefore haveloved her? And besides, handsome as he was,there was a something in the turn of his fea-tures which spoke his not having behaved wellto her.

“Her picture, I suppose,” blushing at theconsummate art of her own question, “hangsin your father’s room?”

“No; it was intended for the drawing-room;but my father was dissatisfied with the paint-ing, and for some time it had no place. Soon

CHAPTER 22 233

after her death I obtained it for my own, andhung it in my bed-chamber—-where I shall behappy to show it you; it is very like.” Here wasanother proof. A portrait—very like—of a de-parted wife, not valued by the husband! Hemust have been dreadfully cruel to her!

Catherine attempted no longer to hidefrom herself the nature of the feelings which,in spite of all his attentions, he had previouslyexcited; and what had been terror and dislikebefore, was now absolute aversion. Yes, aver-sion! His cruelty to such a charming womanmade him odious to her. She had often read ofsuch characters, characters which Mr. Allenhad been used to call unnatural and over-drawn; but here was proof positive of the con-trary.

She had just settled this point when theend of the path brought them directly uponthe general; and in spite of all her virtuousindignation, she found herself again obligedto walk with him, listen to him, and evento smile when he smiled. Being no longerable, however, to receive pleasure from thesurrounding objects, she soon began to walkwith lassitude; the general perceived it, andwith a concern for her health, which seemed toreproach her for her opinion of him, was mosturgent for returning with his daughter to thehouse. He would follow them in a quarter ofan hour. Again they parted—but Eleanor wascalled back in half a minute to receive a strictcharge against taking her friend round theabbey till his return. This second instance ofhis anxiety to delay what she so much wished

234 NORTHANGER ABBEY

for struck Catherine as very remarkable.

CHAPTER 23

An hour passed away before the general camein, spent, on the part of his young guest, inno very favourable consideration of his char-acter. “This lengthened absence, these soli-tary rambles, did not speak a mind at ease,or a conscience void of reproach.” At length heappeared; and, whatever might have been thegloom of his meditations, he could still smilewith them. Miss Tilney, understanding in parther friend’s curiosity to see the house, soon re-vived the subject; and her father being, con-trary to Catherine’s expectations, unprovidedwith any pretence for further delay, beyondthat of stopping five minutes to order refresh-ments to be in the room by their return, wasat last ready to escort them.

They set forward; and, with a grandeurof air, a dignified step, which caught theeye, but could not shake the doubts of thewell-read Catherine, he led the way acrossthe hall, through the common drawing-roomand one useless antechamber, into a roommagnificent both in size and furniture—thereal drawing-room, used only with companyof consequence. It was very noble—very

235

236 NORTHANGER ABBEY

grand—very charming!—was all that Cather-ine had to say, for her indiscriminating eyescarcely discerned the colour of the satin; andall minuteness of praise, all praise that hadmuch meaning, was supplied by the general:the costliness or elegance of any room’s fitting-up could be nothing to her; she cared for nofurniture of a more modern date than the fif-teenth century. When the general had sat-isfied his own curiosity, in a close examina-tion of every well-known ornament, they pro-ceeded into the library, an apartment, in itsway, of equal magnificence, exhibiting a collec-tion of books, on which an humble man mighthave looked with pride. Catherine heard, ad-mired, and wondered with more genuine feel-ing than before—-gathered all that she couldfrom this storehouse of knowledge, by runningover the titles of half a shelf, and was readyto proceed. But suites of apartments did notspring up with her wishes. Large as was thebuilding, she had already visited the greatestpart; though, on being told that, with the ad-dition of the kitchen, the six or seven roomsshe had now seen surrounded three sides ofthe court, she could scarcely believe it, orovercome the suspicion of there being manychambers secreted. It was some relief, how-ever, that they were to return to the roomsin common use, by passing through a few ofless importance, looking into the court, which,with occasional passages, not wholly unintri-cate, connected the different sides; and shewas further soothed in her progress by beingtold that she was treading what had once been

CHAPTER 23 237

a cloister, having traces of cells pointed out,and observing several doors that were nei-ther opened nor explained to her—by findingherself successively in a billiard-room, and inthe general’s private apartment, without com-prehending their connection, or being able toturn aright when she left them; and lastly,by passing through a dark little room, owningHenry’s authority, and strewed with his litterof books, guns, and greatcoats.

From the dining-room, of which, thoughalready seen, and always to be seen at fiveo’clock, the general could not forgo the plea-sure of pacing out the length, for the morecertain information of Miss Morland, as towhat she neither doubted nor cared for, theyproceeded by quick communication to thekitchen—the ancient kitchen of the convent,rich in the massy walls and smoke of for-mer days, and in the stoves and hot clos-ets of the present. The general’s improvinghand had not loitered here: every modern in-vention to facilitate the labour of the cookshad been adopted within this, their spacioustheatre; and, when the genius of others hadfailed, his own had often produced the per-fection wanted. His endowments of this spotalone might at any time have placed him highamong the benefactors of the convent.

With the walls of the kitchen ended allthe antiquity of the abbey; the fourth side ofthe quadrangle having, on account of its de-caying state, been removed by the general’sfather, and the present erected in its place.All that was venerable ceased here. The new

238 NORTHANGER ABBEY

building was not only new, but declared it-self to be so; intended only for offices, andenclosed behind by stable-yards, no unifor-mity of architecture had been thought neces-sary. Catherine could have raved at the handwhich had swept away what must have beenbeyond the value of all the rest, for the pur-poses of mere domestic economy; and wouldwillingly have been spared the mortificationof a walk through scenes so fallen, had thegeneral allowed it; but if he had a vanity, itwas in the arrangement of his offices; and ashe was convinced that, to a mind like MissMorland’s, a view of the accommodations andcomforts, by which the labours of her infe-riors were softened, must always be gratify-ing, he should make no apology for leadingher on. They took a slight survey of all; andCatherine was impressed, beyond her expec-tation, by their multiplicity and their conve-nience. The purposes for which a few shape-less pantries and a comfortless scullery weredeemed sufficient at Fullerton, were here car-ried on in appropriate divisions, commodiousand roomy. The number of servants contin-ually appearing did not strike her less thanthe number of their offices. Wherever theywent, some pattened girl stopped to curtsy, orsome footman in dishabille sneaked off. Yetthis was an abbey! How inexpressibly differ-ent in these domestic arrangements from suchas she had read about—from abbeys and cas-tles, in which, though certainly larger thanNorthanger, all the dirty work of the housewas to be done by two pair of female hands

CHAPTER 23 239

at the utmost. How they could get through itall had often amazed Mrs. Allen; and, whenCatherine saw what was necessary here, shebegan to be amazed herself.

They returned to the hall, that the chiefstaircase might be ascended, and the beautyof its wood, and ornaments of rich carvingmight be pointed out: having gained the top,they turned in an opposite direction from thegallery in which her room lay, and shortlyentered one on the same plan, but superiorin length and breadth. She was here shownsuccessively into three large bed-chambers,with their dressing-rooms, most completelyand handsomely fitted up; everything thatmoney and taste could do, to give comfortand elegance to apartments, had been be-stowed on these; and, being furnished withinthe last five years, they were perfect in allthat would be generally pleasing, and want-ing in all that could give pleasure to Cather-ine. As they were surveying the last, the gen-eral, after slightly naming a few of the dis-tinguished characters by whom they had attimes been honoured, turned with a smilingcountenance to Catherine, and ventured tohope that henceforward some of their earli-est tenants might be “our friends from Fuller-ton.” She felt the unexpected compliment, anddeeply regretted the impossibility of thinkingwell of a man so kindly disposed towards her-self, and so full of civility to all her family.

The gallery was terminated by foldingdoors, which Miss Tilney, advancing, hadthrown open, and passed through, and

240 NORTHANGER ABBEY

seemed on the point of doing the same by thefirst door to the left, in another long reach ofgallery, when the general, coming forwards,called her hastily, and, as Catherine thought,rather angrily back, demanding whether shewere going?—And what was there more to beseen?—Had not Miss Morland already seenall that could be worth her notice?—And didshe not suppose her friend might be gladof some refreshment after so much exercise?Miss Tilney drew back directly, and the heavydoors were closed upon the mortified Cather-ine, who, having seen, in a momentary glancebeyond them, a narrower passage, more nu-merous openings, and symptoms of a wind-ing staircase, believed herself at last withinthe reach of something worth her notice; andfelt, as she unwillingly paced back the gallery,that she would rather be allowed to examinethat end of the house than see all the fin-ery of all the rest. The general’s evident de-sire of preventing such an examination wasan additional stimulant. Something was cer-tainly to be concealed; her fancy, though ithad trespassed lately once or twice, could notmislead her here; and what that somethingwas, a short sentence of Miss Tilney’s, asthey followed the general at some distancedownstairs, seemed to point out: “I was go-ing to take you into what was my mother’sroom—the room in which she died—” were allher words; but few as they were, they con-veyed pages of intelligence to Catherine. Itwas no wonder that the general should shrinkfrom the sight of such objects as that room

CHAPTER 23 241

must contain; a room in all probability neverentered by him since the dreadful scene hadpassed, which released his suffering wife, andleft him to the stings of conscience.

She ventured, when next alone withEleanor, to express her wish of being permit-ted to see it, as well as all the rest of that sideof the house; and Eleanor promised to attendher there, whenever they should have a con-venient hour. Catherine understood her: thegeneral must be watched from home, beforethat room could be entered. “It remains as itwas, I suppose?” said she, in a tone of feeling.

“Yes, entirely.”“And how long ago may it be that your

mother died?”“She has been dead these nine years.” And

nine years, Catherine knew, was a trifle oftime, compared with what generally elapsedafter the death of an injured wife, before herroom was put to rights.

“You were with her, I suppose, to the last?”“No,” said Miss Tilney, sighing; “I was un-

fortunately from home. Her illness was sud-den and short; and, before I arrived it was allover.”

Catherine’s blood ran cold with the hor-rid suggestions which naturally sprang fromthese words. Could it be possible? CouldHenry’s father—? And yet how many were theexamples to justify even the blackest suspi-cions! And, when she saw him in the evening,while she worked with her friend, slowly pac-ing the drawing-room for an hour togetherin silent thoughtfulness, with downcast eyes

242 NORTHANGER ABBEY

and contracted brow, she felt secure from allpossibility of wronging him. It was the airand attitude of a Montoni! What could moreplainly speak the gloomy workings of a mindnot wholly dead to every sense of humanity, inits fearful review of past scenes of guilt? Un-happy man! And the anxiousness of her spir-its directed her eyes towards his figure so re-peatedly, as to catch Miss Tilney’s notice. “Myfather,” she whispered, “often walks about theroom in this way; it is nothing unusual.”

“So much the worse!” thought Catherine;such ill-timed exercise was of a piece withthe strange unseasonableness of his morningwalks, and boded nothing good.

After an evening, the little variety andseeming length of which made her peculiarlysensible of Henry’s importance among them,she was heartily glad to be dismissed; thoughit was a look from the general not designedfor her observation which sent his daughterto the bell. When the butler would have lithis master’s candle, however, he was forbid-den. The latter was not going to retire. “I havemany pamphlets to finish,” said he to Cather-ine, “before I can close my eyes, and perhapsmay be poring over the affairs of the nation forhours after you are asleep. Can either of us bemore meetly employed? My eyes will be blind-ing for the good of others, and yours preparingby rest for future mischief.”

But neither the business alleged, nor themagnificent compliment, could win Catherinefrom thinking that some very different objectmust occasion so serious a delay of proper re-

CHAPTER 23 243

pose. To be kept up for hours, after the fam-ily were in bed, by stupid pamphlets was notvery likely. There must be some deeper cause:something was to be done which could be doneonly while the household slept; and the prob-ability that Mrs. Tilney yet lived, shut up forcauses unknown, and receiving from the piti-less hands of her husband a nightly supply ofcoarse food, was the conclusion which neces-sarily followed. Shocking as was the idea, itwas at least better than a death unfairly has-tened, as, in the natural course of things, shemust ere long be released. The suddenness ofher reputed illness, the absence of her daugh-ter, and probably of her other children, at thetime—all favoured the supposition of her im-prisonment. Its origin—jealousy perhaps, orwanton cruelty—was yet to be unravelled.

In revolving these matters, while she un-dressed, it suddenly struck her as not unlikelythat she might that morning have passed nearthe very spot of this unfortunate woman’sconfinement—might have been within a fewpaces of the cell in which she languished outher days; for what part of the abbey could bemore fitted for the purpose than that whichyet bore the traces of monastic division? Inthe high-arched passage, paved with stone,which already she had trodden with pecu-liar awe, she well remembered the doors ofwhich the general had given no account. Towhat might not those doors lead? In sup-port of the plausibility of this conjecture, itfurther occurred to her that the forbiddengallery, in which lay the apartments of the un-

244 NORTHANGER ABBEY

fortunate Mrs. Tilney, must be, as certainlyas her memory could guide her, exactly overthis suspected range of cells, and the stair-case by the side of those apartments of whichshe had caught a transient glimpse, communi-cating by some secret means with those cells,might well have favoured the barbarous pro-ceedings of her husband. Down that staircaseshe had perhaps been conveyed in a state ofwell-prepared insensibility!

Catherine sometimes started at the bold-ness of her own surmises, and sometimeshoped or feared that she had gone too far; butthey were supported by such appearances asmade their dismissal impossible.

The side of the quadrangle, in which shesupposed the guilty scene to be acting, being,according to her belief, just opposite her own,it struck her that, if judiciously watched, somerays of light from the general’s lamp mightglimmer through the lower windows, as hepassed to the prison of his wife; and, twicebefore she stepped into bed, she stole gentlyfrom her room to the corresponding window inthe gallery, to see if it appeared; but all abroadwas dark, and it must yet be too early. Thevarious ascending noises convinced her thatthe servants must still be up. Till midnight,she supposed it would be in vain to watch; butthen, when the clock had struck twelve, andall was quiet, she would, if not quite appalledby darkness, steal out and look once more.The clock struck twelve—and Catherine hadbeen half an hour asleep.

CHAPTER 24

The next day afforded no opportunity forthe proposed examination of the mysteriousapartments. It was Sunday, and the wholetime between morning and afternoon servicewas required by the general in exercise abroador eating cold meat at home; and great aswas Catherine’s curiosity, her courage was notequal to a wish of exploring them after dinner,either by the fading light of the sky betweensix and seven o’clock, or by the yet more par-tial though stronger illumination of a treach-erous lamp. The day was unmarked there-fore by anything to interest her imaginationbeyond the sight of a very elegant monumentto the memory of Mrs. Tilney, which immedi-ately fronted the family pew. By that her eyewas instantly caught and long retained; andthe perusal of the highly strained epitaph, inwhich every virtue was ascribed to her by theinconsolable husband, who must have been insome way or other her destroyer, affected hereven to tears.

That the general, having erected such amonument, should be able to face it, was notperhaps very strange, and yet that he could sit

245

246 NORTHANGER ABBEY

so boldly collected within its view, maintainso elevated an air, look so fearlessly around,nay, that he should even enter the church,seemed wonderful to Catherine. Not, how-ever, that many instances of beings equallyhardened in guilt might not be produced. Shecould remember dozens who had perseveredin every possible vice, going on from crimeto crime, murdering whomsoever they chose,without any feeling of humanity or remorse;till a violent death or a religious retirementclosed their black career. The erection of themonument itself could not in the smallest de-gree affect her doubts of Mrs. Tilney’s actualdecease. Were she even to descend into thefamily vault where her ashes were supposedto slumber, were she to behold the coffin inwhich they were said to be enclosed—whatcould it avail in such a case? Catherine hadread too much not to be perfectly aware of theease with which a waxen figure might be in-troduced, and a supposititious funeral carriedon.

The succeeding morning promised some-thing better. The general’s early walk, ill-timed as it was in every other view, wasfavourable here; and when she knew him to beout of the house, she directly proposed to MissTilney the accomplishment of her promise.Eleanor was ready to oblige her; and Cather-ine reminding her as they went of anotherpromise, their first visit in consequence wasto the portrait in her bed-chamber. It repre-sented a very lovely woman, with a mild andpensive countenance, justifying, so far, the ex-

CHAPTER 24 247

pectations of its new observer; but they werenot in every respect answered, for Catherinehad depended upon meeting with features,hair, complexion, that should be the verycounterpart, the very image, if not of Henry’s,of Eleanor’s—the only portraits of which shehad been in the habit of thinking, bearingalways an equal resemblance of mother andchild. A face once taken was taken for gener-ations. But here she was obliged to look andconsider and study for a likeness. She contem-plated it, however, in spite of this drawback,with much emotion, and, but for a yet strongerinterest, would have left it unwillingly.

Her agitation as they entered the greatgallery was too much for any endeavour atdiscourse; she could only look at her compan-ion. Eleanor’s countenance was dejected, yetsedate; and its composure spoke her inured toall the gloomy objects to which they were ad-vancing. Again she passed through the fold-ing doors, again her hand was upon the im-portant lock, and Catherine, hardly able tobreathe, was turning to close the former withfearful caution, when the figure, the dreadedfigure of the general himself at the furtherend of the gallery, stood before her! The nameof “Eleanor” at the same moment, in his loud-est tone, resounded through the building, giv-ing to his daughter the first intimation of hispresence, and to Catherine terror upon terror.An attempt at concealment had been her firstinstinctive movement on perceiving him, yetshe could scarcely hope to have escaped hiseye; and when her friend, who with an apol-

248 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ogizing look darted hastily by her, had joinedand disappeared with him, she ran for safetyto her own room, and, locking herself in, be-lieved that she should never have courage togo down again. She remained there at leastan hour, in the greatest agitation, deeply com-miserating the state of her poor friend, andexpecting a summons herself from the angrygeneral to attend him in his own apartment.No summons, however, arrived; and at last,on seeing a carriage drive up to the abbey, shewas emboldened to descend and meet him un-der the protection of visitors. The breakfast-room was gay with company; and she wasnamed to them by the general as the friend ofhis daughter, in a complimentary style, whichso well concealed his resentful ire, as to makeher feel secure at least of life for the present.And Eleanor, with a command of countenancewhich did honour to her concern for his char-acter, taking an early occasion of saying to her,“My father only wanted me to answer a note,”she began to hope that she had either beenunseen by the general, or that from some con-sideration of policy she should be allowed tosuppose herself so. Upon this trust she daredstill to remain in his presence, after the com-pany left them, and nothing occurred to dis-turb it.

In the course of this morning’s reflections,she came to a resolution of making her nextattempt on the forbidden door alone. It wouldbe much better in every respect that Eleanorshould know nothing of the matter. To in-volve her in the danger of a second detection,

CHAPTER 24 249

to court her into an apartment which mustwring her heart, could not be the office of afriend. The general’s utmost anger could notbe to herself what it might be to a daughter;and, besides, she thought the examination it-self would be more satisfactory if made with-out any companion. It would be impossible toexplain to Eleanor the suspicions, from whichthe other had, in all likelihood, been hithertohappily exempt; nor could she therefore, inher presence, search for those proofs of thegeneral’s cruelty, which however they mightyet have escaped discovery, she felt confidentof somewhere drawing forth, in the shape ofsome fragmented journal, continued to thelast gasp. Of the way to the apartment shewas now perfectly mistress; and as she wishedto get it over before Henry’s return, who wasexpected on the morrow, there was no time tobe lost. The day was bright, her courage high;at four o’clock, the sun was now two hoursabove the horizon, and it would be only her re-tiring to dress half an hour earlier than usual.

It was done; and Catherine found herselfalone in the gallery before the clocks hadceased to strike. It was no time for thought;she hurried on, slipped with the least possiblenoise through the folding doors, and withoutstopping to look or breathe, rushed forwardto the one in question. The lock yielded toher hand, and, luckily, with no sullen soundthat could alarm a human being. On tip-toe she entered; the room was before her;but it was some minutes before she could ad-vance another step. She beheld what fixed

250 NORTHANGER ABBEY

her to the spot and agitated every feature.She saw a large, well-proportioned apart-ment, an handsome dimity bed, arranged asunoccupied with an housemaid’s care, a brightBath stove, mahogany wardrobes, and neatlypainted chairs, on which the warm beams ofa western sun gaily poured through two sashwindows! Catherine had expected to have herfeelings worked, and worked they were. As-tonishment and doubt first seized them; and ashortly succeeding ray of common sense addedsome bitter emotions of shame. She could notbe mistaken as to the room; but how grosslymistaken in everything else!—in Miss Tilney’smeaning, in her own calculation! This apart-ment, to which she had given a date so an-cient, a position so awful, proved to be one endof what the general’s father had built. Therewere two other doors in the chamber, leadingprobably into dressing-closets; but she had noinclination to open either. Would the veil inwhich Mrs. Tilney had last walked, or the vol-ume in which she had last read, remain totell what nothing else was allowed to whis-per? No: whatever might have been the gen-eral’s crimes, he had certainly too much witto let them sue for detection. She was sickof exploring, and desired but to be safe in herown room, with her own heart only privy to itsfolly; and she was on the point of retreating assoftly as she had entered, when the sound offootsteps, she could hardly tell where, madeher pause and tremble. To be found there,even by a servant, would be unpleasant; butby the general (and he seemed always at

CHAPTER 24 251

hand when least wanted), much worse! Shelistened—the sound had ceased; and resolvingnot to lose a moment, she passed through andclosed the door. At that instant a door under-neath was hastily opened; someone seemedwith swift steps to ascend the stairs, by thehead of which she had yet to pass before shecould gain the gallery. She bad no power tomove. With a feeling of terror not very defin-able, she fixed her eyes on the staircase, andin a few moments it gave Henry to her view.“Mr. Tilney!” she exclaimed in a voice of morethan common astonishment. He looked aston-ished too. “Good God!” she continued, not at-tending to his address. “How came you here?How came you up that staircase?”

“How came I up that staircase!” he replied,greatly surprised. “Because it is my nearestway from the stable-yard to my own chamber;and why should I not come up it?”

Catherine recollected herself, blusheddeeply, and could say no more. He seemedto be looking in her countenance for that ex-planation which her lips did not afford. Shemoved on towards the gallery. “And may I not,in my turn,” said he, as be pushed back thefolding doors, “ask how you came here? Thispassage is at least as extraordinary a roadfrom the breakfast-parlour to your apartment,as that staircase can be from the stables tomine.”

“I have been,” said Catherine, lookingdown, “to see your mother’s room.”

“My mother’s room! Is there anything ex-traordinary to be seen there?”

252 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“No, nothing at all. I thought you did notmean to come back till tomorrow.”

“I did not expect to be able to return sooner,when I went away; but three hours ago I hadthe pleasure of finding nothing to detain me.You look pale. I am afraid I alarmed you byrunning so fast up those stairs. Perhaps youdid not know—you were not aware of theirleading from the offices in common use?”

“No, I was not. You have had a very fineday for your ride.”

“Very; and does Eleanor leave you to findyour way into an the rooms in the house byyourself?”

“Oh! No; she showed me over the great-est part on Saturday—and we were cominghere to these rooms—but only”—dropping hervoice—“your father was with us.”

“And that prevented you,” said Henry,earnestly regarding her. “Have you lookedinto all the rooms in that passage?”

“No, I only wanted to see—Is not it verylate? I must go and dress.”

“It is only a quarter past four” showing hiswatch—“and you are not now in Bath. No the-atre, no rooms to prepare for. Half an hour atNorthanger must be enough.”

She could not contradict it, and there-fore suffered herself to be detained, thoughher dread of further questions made her, forthe first time in their acquaintance, wish toleave him. They walked slowly up the gallery.“Have you had any letter from Bath since Isaw you?”

“No, and I am very much surprised. Is-

CHAPTER 24 253

abella promised so faithfully to write directly.”“Promised so faithfully! A faithful pro-

mise! That puzzles me. I have heardof a faithful performance. But a faithfulpromise—the fidelity of promising! It is apower little worth knowing, however, since itcan deceive and pain you. My mother’s roomis very commodious, is it not? Large andcheerful-looking, and the dressing-closets sowell disposed! It always strikes me as themost comfortable apartment in the house, andI rather wonder that Eleanor should not takeit for her own. She sent you to look at it, Isuppose?”

“No.”“It has been your own doing entirely?”

Catherine said nothing. After a short silence,during which he had closely observed her, headded, “As there is nothing in the room initself to raise curiosity, this must have pro-ceeded from a sentiment of respect for mymother’s character, as described by Eleanor,which does honour to her memory. The world,I believe, never saw a better woman. But itis not often that virtue can boast an inter-est such as this. The domestic, unpretendingmerits of a person never known do not oftencreate that kind of fervent, venerating tender-ness which would prompt a visit like yours.Eleanor, I suppose, has talked of her a greatdeal?”

“Yes, a great deal. That is—no, not much,but what she did say was very interesting.Her dying so suddenly” (slowly, and withhesitation it was spoken), “and you—none

254 NORTHANGER ABBEY

of you being at home—and your father, Ithought—perhaps had not been very fond ofher.”

“And from these circumstances,” hereplied (his quick eye fixed on hers), “youinfer perhaps the probability of somenegligence—some”—(involuntarily she shookher head)—“or it may be—of something stillless pardonable.” She raised her eyes towardshim more fully than she had ever done before.“My mother’s illness,” he continued, “theseizure which ended in her death was sudden.The malady itself, one from which she hadoften suffered, a bilious fever—its causetherefore constitutional. On the third day, inshort, as soon as she could be prevailed on,a physician attended her, a very respectableman, and one in whom she had always placedgreat confidence. Upon his opinion of herdanger, two others were called in the next day,and remained in almost constant attendancefor four and twenty hours. On the fifth dayshe died. During the progress of her disorder,Frederick and I (we were both at home) sawher repeatedly; and from our own observationcan bear witness to her having received everypossible attention which could spring fromthe affection of those about her, or which hersituation in life could command. Poor Eleanorwas absent, and at such a distance as toreturn only to see her mother in her coffin.”

“But your father,” said Catherine, “was heafflicted?”

“For a time, greatly so. You have erred insupposing him not attached to her. He loved

CHAPTER 24 255

her, I am persuaded, as well as it was pos-sible for him to—we have not all, you know,the same tenderness of disposition—and I willnot pretend to say that while she lived, shemight not often have had much to bear, butthough his temper injured her, his judgmentnever did. His value of her was sincere; and,if not permanently, he was truly afflicted byher death.”

“I am very glad of it,” said Catherine; “itwould have been very shocking!”

“If I understand you rightly, you hadformed a surmise of such horror as I havehardly words to—Dear Miss Morland, con-sider the dreadful nature of the suspicionsyou have entertained. What have you beenjudging from? Remember the country andthe age in which we live. Remember that weare English, that we are Christians. Consultyour own understanding, your own sense ofthe probable, your own observation of what ispassing around you. Does our education pre-pare us for such atrocities? Do our laws con-nive at them? Could they be perpetrated with-out being known, in a country like this, wheresocial and literary intercourse is on such afooting, where every man is surrounded by aneighbourhood of voluntary spies, and whereroads and newspapers lay everything open?Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have youbeen admitting?”

They had reached the end of the gallery,and with tears of shame she ran off to her ownroom.

256 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 25

The visions of romance were over. Cather-ine was completely awakened. Henry’s ad-dress, short as it had been, had more thor-oughly opened her eyes to the extravaganceof her late fancies than all their several dis-appointments had done. Most grievously wasshe humbled. Most bitterly did she cry. It wasnot only with herself that she was sunk—butwith Henry. Her folly, which now seemedeven criminal, was all exposed to him, and hemust despise her forever. The liberty whichher imagination had dared to take with thecharacter of his father—could he ever for-give it? The absurdity of her curiosity andher fears—could they ever be forgotten? Shehated herself more than she could express. Hehad—she thought he had, once or twice beforethis fatal morning, shown something like af-fection for her. But now—in short, she madeherself as miserable as possible for about halfan hour, went down when the clock struckfive, with a broken heart, and could scarcelygive an intelligible answer to Eleanor’s in-quiry if she was well. The formidable Henrysoon followed her into the room, and the only

257

258 NORTHANGER ABBEY

difference in his behaviour to her was that hepaid her rather more attention than usual.Catherine had never wanted comfort more,and he looked as if he was aware of it.

The evening wore away with no abatementof this soothing politeness; and her spiritswere gradually raised to a modest tranquillity.She did not learn either to forget or defendthe past; but she learned to hope that it wouldnever transpire farther, and that it might notcost her Henry’s entire regard. Her thoughtsbeing still chiefly fixed on what she had withsuch causeless terror felt and done, nothingcould shortly be clearer than that it had beenall a voluntary, self-created delusion, each tri-fling circumstance receiving importance froman imagination resolved on alarm, and ev-erything forced to bend to one purpose by amind which, before she entered the abbey, hadbeen craving to be frightened. She remem-bered with what feelings she had preparedfor a knowledge of Northanger. She saw thatthe infatuation had been created, the mischiefsettled, long before her quitting Bath, and itseemed as if the whole might be traced to theinfluence of that sort of reading which she hadthere indulged.

Charming as were all Mrs. Radcliffe’sworks, and charming even as were the worksof all her imitators, it was not in them per-haps that human nature, at least in the Mid-land counties of England, was to be lookedfor. Of the Alps and Pyrenees, with their pineforests and their vices, they might give a faith-ful delineation; and Italy, Switzerland, and

CHAPTER 25 259

the south of France might be as fruitful in hor-rors as they were there represented. Cather-ine dared not doubt beyond her own coun-try, and even of that, if hard pressed, wouldhave yielded the northern and western ex-tremities. But in the central part of Englandthere was surely some security for the exis-tence even of a wife not beloved, in the laws ofthe land, and the manners of the age. Murderwas not tolerated, servants were not slaves,and neither poison nor sleeping potions to beprocured, like rhubarb, from every druggist.Among the Alps and Pyrenees, perhaps, therewere no mixed characters. There, such aswere not as spotless as an angel might havethe dispositions of a fiend. But in England itwas not so; among the English, she believed,in their hearts and habits, there was a gen-eral though unequal mixture of good and bad.Upon this conviction, she would not be sur-prised if even in Henry and Eleanor Tilney,some slight imperfection might hereafter ap-pear; and upon this conviction she need notfear to acknowledge some actual specks in thecharacter of their father, who, though clearedfrom the grossly injurious suspicions whichshe must ever blush to have entertained, shedid believe, upon serious consideration, to benot perfectly amiable.

Her mind made up on these several points,and her resolution formed, of always judgingand acting in future with the greatest goodsense, she had nothing to do but to forgiveherself and be happier than ever; and the le-nient hand of time did much for her by in-

260 NORTHANGER ABBEY

sensible gradations in the course of anotherday. Henry’s astonishing generosity and no-bleness of conduct, in never alluding in theslightest way to what had passed, was of thegreatest assistance to her; and sooner thanshe could have supposed it possible in the be-ginning of her distress, her spirits became ab-solutely comfortable, and capable, as hereto-fore, of continual improvement by anything hesaid. There were still some subjects, indeed,under which she believed they must alwaystremble—the mention of a chest or a cabinet,for instance—and she did not love the sight ofjapan in any shape: but even she could allowthat an occasional memento of past folly, how-ever painful, might not be without use.

The anxieties of common life began soonto succeed to the alarms of romance. Her de-sire of hearing from Isabella grew every daygreater. She was quite impatient to knowhow the Bath world went on, and how therooms were attended; and especially was sheanxious to be assured of Isabella’s havingmatched some fine netting-cotton, on whichshe had left her intent; and of her continuingon the best terms with James. Her only de-pendence for information of any kind was onIsabella. James had protested against writ-ing to her till his return to Oxford; and Mrs.Allen had given her no hopes of a letter tillshe had got back to Fullerton. But Isabellahad promised and promised again; and whenshe promised a thing, she was so scrupulousin performing it! This made it so particularlystrange!

CHAPTER 25 261

For nine successive mornings, Catherinewondered over the repetition of a disappoint-ment, which each morning became more se-vere: but, on the tenth, when she enteredthe breakfast-room, her first object was a let-ter, held out by Henry’s willing hand. Shethanked him as heartily as if he had writtenit himself. “’Tis only from James, however,”as she looked at the direction. She opened it;it was from Oxford; and to this purpose:

“Dear Catherine,“Though, God knows, with lit-

tle inclination for writing, I thinkit my duty to tell you that every-thing is at an end between MissThorpe and me. I left her andBath yesterday, never to see ei-ther again. I shall not enter intoparticulars—they would only painyou more. You will soon hearenough from another quarter toknow where lies the blame; and Ihope will acquit your brother of ev-erything but the folly of too eas-ily thinking his affection returned.Thank God! I am undeceived intime! But it is a heavy blow! Af-ter my father’s consent had been sokindly given—but no more of this.She has made me miserable for-ever! Let me soon hear from you,dear Catherine; you are my onlyfriend; your love I do build upon.I wish your visit at Northanger

262 NORTHANGER ABBEY

may be over before Captain Tilneymakes his engagement known, oryou will be uncomfortably circum-stanced. Poor Thorpe is in town:I dread the sight of him; his hon-est heart would feel so much. Ihave written to him and my fa-ther. Her duplicity hurts me morethan all; till the very last, if I rea-soned with her, she declared her-self as much attached to me as ever,and laughed at my fears. I amashamed to think how long I borewith it; but if ever man had rea-son to believe himself loved, I wasthat man. I cannot understandeven now what she would be at, forthere could be no need of my be-ing played off to make her secureof Tilney. We parted at last by mu-tual consent—happy for me had wenever met! I can never expect toknow such another woman! Dear-est Catherine, beware how you giveyour heart.

“Believe me,” &c.

Catherine had not read three lines before hersudden change of countenance, and short ex-clamations of sorrowing wonder, declared herto be receiving unpleasant news; and Henry,earnestly watching her through the whole let-ter, saw plainly that it ended no better thanit began. He was prevented, however, fromeven looking his surprise by his father’s en-

CHAPTER 25 263

trance. They went to breakfast directly; butCatherine could hardly eat anything. Tearsfilled her eyes, and even ran down her cheeksas she sat. The letter was one moment in herhand, then in her lap, and then in her pocket;and she looked as if she knew not what shedid. The general, between his cocoa and hisnewspaper, had luckily no leisure for notic-ing her; but to the other two her distress wasequally visible. As soon as she dared leavethe table she hurried away to her own room;but the housemaids were busy in it, and shewas obliged to come down again. She turnedinto the drawing-room for privacy, but Henryand Eleanor had likewise retreated thither,and were at that moment deep in consulta-tion about her. She drew back, trying to begtheir pardon, but was, with gentle violence,forced to return; and the others withdrew,after Eleanor had affectionately expressed awish of being of use or comfort to her.

After half an hour’s free indulgence of griefand reflection, Catherine felt equal to encoun-tering her friends; but whether she shouldmake her distress known to them was anotherconsideration. Perhaps, if particularly ques-tioned, she might just give an idea—just dis-tantly hint at it—but not more. To exposea friend, such a friend as Isabella had beento her—and then their own brother so closelyconcerned in it! She believed she must waivethe subject altogether. Henry and Eleanorwere by themselves in the breakfast-room;and each, as she entered it, looked at her anx-iously. Catherine took her place at the table,

264 NORTHANGER ABBEY

and, after a short silence, Eleanor said, “Nobad news from Fullerton, I hope? Mr. andMrs. Morland—your brothers and sisters—Ihope they are none of them ill?”

“No, I thank you” (sighing as she spoke);“they are all very well. My letter was from mybrother at Oxford.”

Nothing further was said for a few min-utes; and then speaking through her tears,she added, “I do not think I shall ever wishfor a letter again!”

“I am sorry,” said Henry, closing the bookhe had just opened; “if I had suspected theletter of containing anything unwelcome, Ishould have given it with very different feel-ings.”

“It contained something worse than any-body could suppose! Poor James is so un-happy! You will soon know why.”

“To have so kind-hearted, so affectionate asister,” replied Henry warmly, “must be a com-fort to him under any distress.”

“I have one favour to beg,” said Cather-ine, shortly afterwards, in an agitated man-ner, “that, if your brother should be cominghere, you will give me notice of it, that I maygo away.”

“Our brother! Frederick!”“Yes; I am sure I should be very sorry to

leave you so soon, but something has hap-pened that would make it very dreadful for meto be in the same house with Captain Tilney.”

Eleanor’s work was suspended while shegazed with increasing astonishment; butHenry began to suspect the truth, and some-

CHAPTER 25 265

thing, in which Miss Thorpe’s name was in-cluded, passed his lips.

“How quick you are!” cried Catherine: “youhave guessed it, I declare! And yet, when wetalked about it in Bath, you little thought ofits ending so. Isabella—no wonder now I havenot heard from her—Isabella has desertedmy brother, and is to marry yours! Couldyou have believed there had been such incon-stancy and fickleness, and everything that isbad in the world?”

“I hope, so far as concerns my brother, youare misinformed. I hope he has not had anymaterial share in bringing on Mr. Morland’sdisappointment. His marrying Miss Thorpe isnot probable. I think you must be deceived sofar. I am very sorry for Mr. Morland—sorrythat anyone you love should be unhappy; butmy surprise would be greater at Frederick’smarrying her than at any other part of thestory.”

“It is very true, however; you shall readJames’s letter yourself. Stay—There is onepart—” recollecting with a blush the last line.

“Will you take the trouble of reading to usthe passages which concern my brother?”

“No, read it yourself,” cried Catherine,whose second thoughts were clearer. “I donot know what I was thinking of” (blushingagain that she had blushed before); “Jamesonly means to give me good advice.”

He gladly received the letter, and, havingread it through, with close attention, returnedit saying, “Well, if it is to be so, I can only saythat I am sorry for it. Frederick will not be

266 NORTHANGER ABBEY

the first man who has chosen a wife with lesssense than his family expected. I do not envyhis situation, either as a lover or a son.”

Miss Tilney, at Catherine’s invitation, nowread the letter likewise, and, having ex-pressed also her concern and surprise, beganto inquire into Miss Thorpe’s connections andfortune.

“Her mother is a very good sort of woman,”was Catherine’s answer.

“What was her father?”“A lawyer, I believe. They live at Putney.”“Are they a wealthy family?”“No, not very. I do not believe Isabella has

any fortune at all: but that will not signifyin your family. Your father is so very liberal!He told me the other day that he only valuedmoney as it allowed him to promote the hap-piness of his children.”

The brother and sister looked at eachother. “But,” said Eleanor, after a short pause,“would it be to promote his happiness, to en-able him to marry such a girl? She must be anunprincipled one, or she could not have usedyour brother so. And how strange an infatu-ation on Frederick’s side! A girl who, beforehis eyes, is violating an engagement voluntar-ily entered into with another man! Is not itinconceivable, Henry? Frederick too, who al-ways wore his heart so proudly! Who found nowoman good enough to be loved!”

“That is the most unpromising circum-stance, the strongest presumption againsthim. When I think of his past declarations,I give him up. Moreover, I have too good

CHAPTER 25 267

an opinion of Miss Thorpe’s prudence to sup-pose that she would part with one gentle-man before the other was secured. It is allover with Frederick indeed! He is a deceasedman—defunct in understanding. Prepare foryour sister-in-law, Eleanor, and such a sister-in-law as you must delight in! Open, candid,artless, guileless, with affections strong butsimple, forming no pretensions, and knowingno disguise.”

“Such a sister-in-law, Henry, I should de-light in,” said Eleanor with a smile.

“But perhaps,” observed Catherine,“though she has behaved so ill by our family,she may behave better by yours. Now shehas really got the man she likes, she may beconstant.”

“Indeed I am afraid she will,” repliedHenry; “I am afraid she will be very constant,unless a baronet should come in her way; thatis Frederick’s only chance. I will get the Bathpaper, and look over the arrivals.”

“You think it is all for ambition, then? And,upon my word, there are some things thatseem very like it. I cannot forget that, whenshe first knew what my father would do forthem, she seemed quite disappointed that itwas not more. I never was so deceived in any-one’s character in my life before.”

“Among all the great variety that you haveknown and studied.”

“My own disappointment and loss in her isvery great; but, as for poor James, I supposehe will hardly ever recover it.”

“Your brother is certainly very much to be

268 NORTHANGER ABBEY

pitied at present; but we must not, in our con-cern for his sufferings, undervalue yours. Youfeel, I suppose, that in losing Isabella, you losehalf yourself: you feel a void in your heartwhich nothing else can occupy. Society is be-coming irksome; and as for the amusementsin which you were wont to share at Bath, thevery idea of them without her is abhorrent.You would not, for instance, now go to a ballfor the world. You feel that you have no longerany friend to whom you can speak with unre-serve, on whose regard you can place depen-dence, or whose counsel, in any difficulty, youcould rely on. You feel all this?”

“No,” said Catherine, after a few moments’reflection, “I do not—ought I? To say the truth,though I am hurt and grieved, that I cannotstill love her, that I am never to hear from her,perhaps never to see her again, I do not feelso very, very much afflicted as one would havethought.”

“You feel, as you always do, what is mostto the credit of human nature. Such feelingsought to be investigated, that they may knowthemselves.”

Catherine, by some chance or other, foundher spirits so very much relieved by this con-versation that she could not regret her beingled on, though so unaccountably, to mentionthe circumstance which had produced it.

CHAPTER 26

From this time, the subject was frequentlycanvassed by the three young people; andCatherine found, with some surprise, thather two young friends were perfectly agreedin considering Isabella’s want of consequenceand fortune as likely to throw great dif-ficulties in the way of her marrying theirbrother. Their persuasion that the generalwould, upon this ground alone, independentof the objection that might be raised againsther character, oppose the connection, turnedher feelings moreover with some alarm to-wards herself. She was as insignificant, andperhaps as portionless, as Isabella; and if theheir of the Tilney property had not grandeurand wealth enough in himself, at what pointof interest were the demands of his youngerbrother to rest? The very painful reflections towhich this thought led could only be dispersedby a dependence on the effect of that particu-lar partiality, which, as she was given to un-derstand by his words as well as his actions,she had from the first been so fortunate as toexcite in the general; and by a recollection ofsome most generous and disinterested senti-

269

270 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ments on the subject of money, which she hadmore than once heard him utter, and whichtempted her to think his disposition in suchmatters misunderstood by his children.

They were so fully convinced, however,that their brother would not have the courageto apply in person for his father’s consent, andso repeatedly assured her that he had never inhis life been less likely to come to Northangerthan at the present time, that she suffered hermind to be at ease as to the necessity of anysudden removal of her own. But as it was notto be supposed that Captain Tilney, wheneverhe made his application, would give his fatherany just idea of Isabella’s conduct, it occurredto her as highly expedient that Henry shouldlay the whole business before him as it reallywas, enabling the general by that means toform a cool and impartial opinion, and pre-pare his objections on a fairer ground than in-equality of situations. She proposed it to himaccordingly; but he did not catch at the mea-sure so eagerly as she had expected. “No,” saidhe, “my father’s hands need not be strength-ened, and Frederick’s confession of folly neednot be forestalled. He must tell his own story.”

“But he will tell only half of it.”“A quarter would be enough.”A day or two passed away and brought no

tidings of Captain Tilney. His brother and sis-ter knew not what to think. Sometimes it ap-peared to them as if his silence would be thenatural result of the suspected engagement,and at others that it was wholly incompatiblewith it. The general, meanwhile, though of-

CHAPTER 26 271

fended every morning by Frederick’s remiss-ness in writing, was free from any real anxi-ety about him, and had no more pressing so-licitude than that of making Miss Morland’stime at Northanger pass pleasantly. He of-ten expressed his uneasiness on this head,feared the sameness of every day’s societyand employments would disgust her with theplace, wished the Lady Frasers had been inthe country, talked every now and then of hav-ing a large party to dinner, and once or twicebegan even to calculate the number of youngdancing people in the neighbourhood. Butthen it was such a dead time of year, no wild-fowl, no game, and the Lady Frasers were notin the country. And it all ended, at last, inhis telling Henry one morning that when henext went to Woodston, they would take himby surprise there some day or other, and eattheir mutton with him. Henry was greatlyhonoured and very happy, and Catherine wasquite delighted with the scheme. “And whendo you think, sir, I may look forward to thispleasure? I must be at Woodston on Mondayto attend the parish meeting, and shall prob-ably be obliged to stay two or three days.”

“Well, well, we will take our chance someone of those days. There is no need to fix.You are not to put yourself at all out of yourway. Whatever you may happen to have inthe house will be enough. I think I can an-swer for the young ladies making allowancefor a bachelor’s table. Let me see; Mondaywill be a busy day with you, we will not comeon Monday; and Tuesday will be a busy one

272 NORTHANGER ABBEY

with me. I expect my surveyor from Brock-ham with his report in the morning; and after-wards I cannot in decency fail attending theclub. I really could not face my acquaintanceif I stayed away now; for, as I am known to bein the country, it would be taken exceedinglyamiss; and it is a rule with me, Miss Morland,never to give offence to any of my neighbours,if a small sacrifice of time and attention canprevent it. They are a set of very worthy men.They have half a buck from Northanger twicea year; and I dine with them whenever I can.Tuesday, therefore, we may say is out of thequestion. But on Wednesday, I think, Henry,you may expect us; and we shall be with youearly, that we may have time to look about us.Two hours and three quarters will carry us toWoodston, I suppose; we shall be in the car-riage by ten; so, about a quarter before one onWednesday, you may look for us.”

A ball itself could not have been more wel-come to Catherine than this little excursion,so strong was her desire to be acquainted withWoodston; and her heart was still boundingwith joy when Henry, about an hour after-wards, came booted and greatcoated into theroom where she and Eleanor were sitting, andsaid, “I am come, young ladies, in a very mor-alizing strain, to observe that our pleasures inthis world are always to be paid for, and thatwe often purchase them at a great disadvan-tage, giving ready-monied actual happinessfor a draft on the future, that may not be hon-oured. Witness myself, at this present hour.Because I am to hope for the satisfaction of

CHAPTER 26 273

seeing you at Woodston on Wednesday, whichbad weather, or twenty other causes, may pre-vent, I must go away directly, two days beforeI intended it.”

“Go away!” said Catherine, with a verylong face. “And why?”

“Why! How can you ask the question? Be-cause no time is to be lost in frightening myold housekeeper out of her wits, because Imust go and prepare a dinner for you, to besure.”

“Oh! Not seriously!”“Aye, and sadly too—for I had much rather

stay.”“But how can you think of such a thing, af-

ter what the general said? When he so par-ticularly desired you not to give yourself anytrouble, because anything would do.” Henryonly smiled. “I am sure it is quite unnec-essary upon your sister’s account and mine.You must know it to be so; and the generalmade such a point of your providing nothingextraordinary: besides, if he had not said halfso much as he did, he has always such an ex-cellent dinner at home, that sitting down to amiddling one for one day could not signify.”

“I wish I could reason like you, for his sakeand my own. Good-bye. As tomorrow is Sun-day, Eleanor, I shall not return.”

He went; and, it being at any time a muchsimpler operation to Catherine to doubt herown judgment than Henry’s, she was verysoon obliged to give him credit for being right,however disagreeable to her his going. Butthe inexplicability of the general’s conduct

274 NORTHANGER ABBEY

dwelt much on her thoughts. That he wasvery particular in his eating, she had, by herown unassisted observation, already discov-ered; but why he should say one thing so pos-itively, and mean another all the while, wasmost unaccountable! How were people, atthat rate, to be understood? Who but Henrycould have been aware of what his father wasat?

From Saturday to Wednesday, however,they were now to be without Henry. This wasthe sad finale of every reflection: and Cap-tain Tilney’s letter would certainly come in hisabsence; and Wednesday she was very surewould be wet. The past, present, and futurewere all equally in gloom. Her brother so un-happy, and her loss in Isabella so great; andEleanor’s spirits always affected by Henry’sabsence! What was there to interest or amuseher? She was tired of the woods and theshrubberies—always so smooth and so dry;and the abbey in itself was no more to her nowthan any other house. The painful remem-brance of the folly it had helped to nourishand perfect was the only emotion which couldspring from a consideration of the building.What a revolution in her ideas! She, who hadso longed to be in an abbey! Now, there wasnothing so charming to her imagination as theunpretending comfort of a well-connected par-sonage, something like Fullerton, but better:Fullerton had its faults, but Woodston proba-bly had none. If Wednesday should ever come!

It did come, and exactly when it mightbe reasonably looked for. It came—it was

CHAPTER 26 275

fine—and Catherine trod on air. By teno’clock, the chaise and four conveyed the twofrom the abbey; and, after an agreeable driveof almost twenty miles, they entered Wood-ston, a large and populous village, in a situa-tion not unpleasant. Catherine was ashamedto say how pretty she thought it, as the gen-eral seemed to think an apology necessary forthe flatness of the country, and the size of thevillage; but in her heart she preferred it to anyplace she had ever been at, and looked withgreat admiration at every neat house abovethe rank of a cottage, and at all the little chan-dler’s shops which they passed. At the furtherend of the village, and tolerably disengagedfrom the rest of it, stood the parsonage, a new-built substantial stone house, with its semi-circular sweep and green gates; and, as theydrove up to the door, Henry, with the friendsof his solitude, a large Newfoundland puppyand two or three terriers, was ready to receiveand make much of them.

Catherine’s mind was too full, as she en-tered the house, for her either to observe orto say a great deal; and, till called on by thegeneral for her opinion of it, she had very lit-tle idea of the room in which she was sitting.Upon looking round it then, she perceived ina moment that it was the most comfortableroom in the world; but she was too guardedto say so, and the coldness of her praise disap-pointed him.

“We are not calling it a good house,” saidhe. “We are not comparing it with Fullertonand Northanger—we are considering it as a

276 NORTHANGER ABBEY

mere parsonage, small and confined, we al-low, but decent, perhaps, and habitable; andaltogether not inferior to the generality; or,in other words, I believe there are few coun-try parsonages in England half so good. Itmay admit of improvement, however. Far beit from me to say otherwise; and anything inreason—a bow thrown out, perhaps—though,between ourselves, if there is one thing morethan another my aversion, it is a patched-onbow.”

Catherine did not hear enough of thisspeech to understand or be pained by it;and other subjects being studiously broughtforward and supported by Henry, at thesame time that a tray full of refreshmentswas introduced by his servant, the generalwas shortly restored to his complacency, andCatherine to all her usual ease of spirits.

The room in question was of a commodi-ous, well-proportioned size, and handsomelyfitted up as a dining-parlour; and on theirquitting it to walk round the grounds, she wasshown, first into a smaller apartment, belong-ing peculiarly to the master of the house, andmade unusually tidy on the occasion; and af-terwards into what was to be the drawing-room, with the appearance of which, thoughunfurnished, Catherine was delighted enougheven to satisfy the general. It was a pret-tily shaped room, the windows reaching tothe ground, and the view from them pleasant,though only over green meadows; and she ex-pressed her admiration at the moment withall the honest simplicity with which she felt

CHAPTER 26 277

it. “Oh! Why do not you fit up this room, Mr.Tilney? What a pity not to have it fitted up!It is the prettiest room I ever saw; it is theprettiest room in the world!”

“I trust,” said the general, with a most sat-isfied smile, “that it will very speedily be fur-nished: it waits only for a lady’s taste!”

“Well, if it was my house, I should neversit anywhere else. Oh! What a sweet littlecottage there is among the trees—apple trees,too! It is the prettiest cottage!”

“You like it—you approve it as anobject—it is enough. Henry, remember thatRobinson is spoken to about it. The cottageremains.”

Such a compliment recalled all Catherine’sconsciousness, and silenced her directly; and,though pointedly applied to by the general forher choice of the prevailing colour of the pa-per and hangings, nothing like an opinion onthe subject could be drawn from her. The in-fluence of fresh objects and fresh air, however,was of great use in dissipating these embar-rassing associations; and, having reached theornamental part of the premises, consisting ofa walk round two sides of a meadow, on whichHenry’s genius had begun to act about halfa year ago, she was sufficiently recovered tothink it prettier than any pleasure-ground shehad ever been in before, though there was nota shrub in it higher than the green bench inthe corner.

A saunter into other meadows, andthrough part of the village, with a visit to thestables to examine some improvements, and

278 NORTHANGER ABBEY

a charming game of play with a litter of pup-pies just able to roll about, brought them tofour o’clock, when Catherine scarcely thoughtit could be three. At four they were to dine,and at six to set off on their return. Neverhad any day passed so quickly!

She could not but observe that the abun-dance of the dinner did not seem to createthe smallest astonishment in the general; nay,that he was even looking at the side-tablefor cold meat which was not there. His sonand daughter’s observations were of a differ-ent kind. They had seldom seen him eat soheartily at any table but his own, and neverbefore known him so little disconcerted by themelted butter’s being oiled.

At six o’clock, the general having taken hiscoffee, the carriage again received them; andso gratifying had been the tenor of his conductthroughout the whole visit, so well assuredwas her mind on the subject of his expecta-tions, that, could she have felt equally confi-dent of the wishes of his son, Catherine wouldhave quitted Woodston with little anxiety asto the How or the When she might return toit.

CHAPTER 27

The next morning brought the following veryunexpected letter from Isabella:

Bath, AprilMy dearest Catherine, I receivedyour two kind letters with thegreatest delight, and have a thou-sand apologies to make for not an-swering them sooner. I really amquite ashamed of my idleness; butin this horrid place one can findtime for nothing. I have had mypen in my hand to begin a letterto you almost every day since youleft Bath, but have always beenprevented by some silly trifler orother. Pray write to me soon, anddirect to my own home. ThankGod, we leave this vile place to-morrow. Since you went away, Ihave had no pleasure in it—thedust is beyond anything; and ev-erybody one cares for is gone. I be-lieve if I could see you I should notmind the rest, for you are dearerto me than anybody can conceive.

279

280 NORTHANGER ABBEY

I am quite uneasy about your dearbrother, not having heard from himsince he went to Oxford; and amfearful of some misunderstanding.Your kind offices will set all right:he is the only man I ever did orcould love, and I trust you will con-vince him of it. The spring fash-ions are partly down; and the hatsthe most frightful you can imag-ine. I hope you spend your timepleasantly, but am afraid you neverthink of me. I will not say allthat I could of the family you arewith, because I would not be un-generous, or set you against thoseyou esteem; but it is very difficultto know whom to trust, and youngmen never know their minds twodays together. I rejoice to say thatthe young man whom, of all others,I particularly abhor, has left Bath.You will know, from this descrip-tion, I must mean Captain Tilney,who, as you may remember, wasamazingly disposed to follow andtease me, before you went away.Afterwards he got worse, and be-came quite my shadow. Many girlsmight have been taken in, for neverwere such attentions; but I knewthe fickle sex too well. He wentaway to his regiment two days ago,and I trust I shall never be plaguedwith him again. He is the greatest

CHAPTER 27 281

coxcomb I ever saw, and amazinglydisagreeable. The last two days hewas always by the side of CharlotteDavis: I pitied his taste, but took nonotice of him. The last time we metwas in Bath Street, and I turned di-rectly into a shop that he might notspeak to me; I would not even lookat him. He went into the pump-room afterwards; but I would nothave followed him for all the world.Such a contrast between him andyour brother! Pray send me somenews of the latter—I am quite un-happy about him; he seemed so un-comfortable when he went away,with a cold, or something that af-fected his spirits. I would write tohim myself, but have mislaid hisdirection; and, as I hinted above,am afraid he took something in myconduct amiss. Pray explain ev-erything to his satisfaction; or, ifhe still harbours any doubt, a linefrom himself to me, or a call at Put-ney when next in town, might setall to rights. I have not been tothe rooms this age, nor to the play,except going in last night with theHodges, for a frolic, at half price:they teased me into it; and I wasdetermined they should not say Ishut myself up because Tilney wasgone. We happened to sit by theMitchells, and they pretended to

282 NORTHANGER ABBEY

be quite surprised to see me out.I knew their spite: at one timethey could not be civil to me, butnow they are all friendship; but Iam not such a fool as to be takenin by them. You know I have apretty good spirit of my own. AnneMitchell had tried to put on a tur-ban like mine, as I wore it the weekbefore at the concert, but madewretched work of it—it happenedto become my odd face, I believe, atleast Tilney told me so at the time,and said every eye was upon me;but he is the last man whose wordI would take. I wear nothing butpurple now: I know I look hideousin it, but no matter—it is your dearbrother’s favourite colour. Lose notime, my dearest, sweetest Cather-ine, in writing to him and to me,

Who ever am, etc.

Such a strain of shallow artifice could not im-pose even upon Catherine. Its inconsisten-cies, contradictions, and falsehood struck herfrom the very first. She was ashamed of Is-abella, and ashamed of having ever loved her.Her professions of attachment were now asdisgusting as her excuses were empty, andher demands impudent. “Write to James onher behalf! No, James should never hear Is-abella’s name mentioned by her again.”

On Henry’s arrival from Woodston, shemade known to him and Eleanor their

CHAPTER 27 283

brother’s safety, congratulating them withsincerity on it, and reading aloud the mostmaterial passages of her letter with strongindignation. When she had finished it—“Somuch for Isabella,” she cried, “and for all ourintimacy! She must think me an idiot, orshe could not have written so; but perhapsthis has served to make her character betterknown to me than mine is to her. I see whatshe has been about. She is a vain coquette,and her tricks have not answered. I do not be-lieve she had ever any regard either for Jamesor for me, and I wish I had never known her.”

“It will soon be as if you never had,” saidHenry.

“There is but one thing that I cannot un-derstand. I see that she has had designs onCaptain Tilney, which have not succeeded; butI do not understand what Captain Tilney hasbeen about all this time. Why should he payher such attentions as to make her quarrelwith my brother, and then fly off himself?”

“I have very little to say for Frederick’s mo-tives, such as I believe them to have been. Hehas his vanities as well as Miss Thorpe, andthe chief difference is, that, having a strongerhead, they have not yet injured himself. Ifthe effect of his behaviour does not justify himwith you, we had better not seek after thecause.”

“Then you do not suppose he ever reallycared about her?”

“I am persuaded that he never did.”“And only made believe to do so for mis-

chief ’s sake?”

284 NORTHANGER ABBEY

Henry bowed his assent.“Well, then, I must say that I do not like

him at all. Though it has turned out so wellfor us, I do not like him at all. As it happens,there is no great harm done, because I do notthink Isabella has any heart to lose. But, sup-pose he had made her very much in love withhim?”

“But we must first suppose Isabella to havehad a heart to lose—consequently to havebeen a very different creature; and, in thatcase, she would have met with very differenttreatment.”

“It is very right that you should stand byyour brother.”

“And if you would stand by yours, youwould not be much distressed by the disap-pointment of Miss Thorpe. But your mind iswarped by an innate principle of general in-tegrity, and therefore not accessible to the coolreasonings of family partiality, or a desire ofrevenge.”

Catherine was complimented out of fur-ther bitterness. Frederick could not be unpar-donably guilty, while Henry made himself soagreeable. She resolved on not answering Is-abella’s letter, and tried to think no more ofit.

CHAPTER 28

Soon after this, the general found himselfobliged to go to London for a week; andhe left Northanger earnestly regretting thatany necessity should rob him even for anhour of Miss Morland’s company, and anx-iously recommending the study of her com-fort and amusement to his children as theirchief object in his absence. His departuregave Catherine the first experimental convic-tion that a loss may be sometimes a gain. Thehappiness with which their time now passed,every employment voluntary, every laugh in-dulged, every meal a scene of ease and goodhumour, walking where they liked and whenthey liked, their hours, pleasures, and fa-tigues at their own command, made her thor-oughly sensible of the restraint which the gen-eral’s presence had imposed, and most thank-fully feel their present release from it. Suchease and such delights made her love theplace and the people more and more everyday; and had it not been for a dread of itssoon becoming expedient to leave the one, andan apprehension of not being equally belovedby the other, she would at each moment of

285

286 NORTHANGER ABBEY

each day have been perfectly happy; but shewas now in the fourth week of her visit; be-fore the general came home, the fourth weekwould be turned, and perhaps it might seeman intrusion if she stayed much longer. Thiswas a painful consideration whenever it oc-curred; and eager to get rid of such a weighton her mind, she very soon resolved to speakto Eleanor about it at once, propose goingaway, and be guided in her conduct by themanner in which her proposal might be taken.

Aware that if she gave herself much time,she might feel it difficult to bring forwardso unpleasant a subject, she took the firstopportunity of being suddenly alone withEleanor, and of Eleanor’s being in the mid-dle of a speech about something very dif-ferent, to start forth her obligation of goingaway very soon. Eleanor looked and declaredherself much concerned. She had “hopedfor the pleasure of her company for a muchlonger time—had been misled (perhaps by herwishes) to suppose that a much longer visithad been promised—and could not but thinkthat if Mr. and Mrs. Morland were aware ofthe pleasure it was to her to have her there,they would be too generous to hasten her re-turn.”

Catherine explained: “Oh! as to that, Papaand Mamma were in no hurry at all. As longas she was happy, they would always be satis-fied.”

“Then why, might she ask, in such a hurryherself to leave them?”

“Oh! Because she had been there so long.”

CHAPTER 28 287

“Nay, if you can use such a word, I can urgeyou no farther. If you think it long—”

“Oh! No, I do not indeed. For my own plea-sure, I could stay with you as long again.” Andit was directly settled that, till she had, herleaving them was not even to be thought of. Inhaving this cause of uneasiness so pleasantlyremoved, the force of the other was likewiseweakened. The kindness, the earnestnessof Eleanor’s manner in pressing her to stay,and Henry’s gratified look on being told thather stay was determined, were such sweetproofs of her importance with them, as lefther only just so much solicitude as the hu-man mind can never do comfortably without.She did—almost always—believe that Henryloved her, and quite always that his fatherand sister loved and even wished her to belongto them; and believing so far, her doubts andanxieties were merely sportive irritations.

Henry was not able to obey his father’s in-junction of remaining wholly at Northanger inattendance on the ladies, during his absencein London, the engagements of his curate atWoodston obliging him to leave them on Sat-urday for a couple of nights. His loss was notnow what it had been while the general was athome; it lessened their gaiety, but did not ruintheir comfort; and the two girls agreeing inoccupation, and improving in intimacy, foundthemselves so well sufficient for the time tothemselves, that it was eleven o’clock, rathera late hour at the abbey, before they quittedthe supper-room on the day of Henry’s depar-ture. They had just reached the head of the

288 NORTHANGER ABBEY

stairs when it seemed, as far as the thicknessof the walls would allow them to judge, thata carriage was driving up to the door, and thenext moment confirmed the idea by the loudnoise of the house-bell. After the first per-turbation of surprise had passed away, in a“Good heaven! What can be the matter?” itwas quickly decided by Eleanor to be her el-dest brother, whose arrival was often as sud-den, if not quite so unseasonable, and accord-ingly she hurried down to welcome him.

Catherine walked on to her chamber, mak-ing up her mind as well as she could, to a fur-ther acquaintance with Captain Tilney, andcomforting herself under the unpleasant im-pression his conduct had given her, and thepersuasion of his being by far too fine a gen-tleman to approve of her, that at least theyshould not meet under such circumstances aswould make their meeting materially painful.She trusted he would never speak of MissThorpe; and indeed, as he must by this timebe ashamed of the part he had acted, therecould be no danger of it; and as long as allmention of Bath scenes were avoided, shethought she could behave to him very civilly.In such considerations time passed away, andit was certainly in his favour that Eleanorshould be so glad to see him, and have somuch to say, for half an hour was almost gonesince his arrival, and Eleanor did not come up.

At that moment Catherine thought sheheard her step in the gallery, and listened forits continuance; but all was silent. Scarcely,however, had she convicted her fancy of er-

CHAPTER 28 289

ror, when the noise of something moving closeto her door made her start; it seemed as ifsomeone was touching the very doorway—andin another moment a slight motion of thelock proved that some hand must be on it.She trembled a little at the idea of anyone’sapproaching so cautiously; but resolving notto be again overcome by trivial appearancesof alarm, or misled by a raised imagination,she stepped quietly forward, and opened thedoor. Eleanor, and only Eleanor, stood there.Catherine’s spirits, however, were tranquil-lized but for an instant, for Eleanor’s cheekswere pale, and her manner greatly agitated.Though evidently intending to come in, itseemed an effort to enter the room, and astill greater to speak when there. Cather-ine, supposing some uneasiness on CaptainTilney’s account, could only express her con-cern by silent attention, obliged her to beseated, rubbed her temples with lavender-water, and hung over her with affectionatesolicitude. “My dear Catherine, you mustnot—you must not indeed—” were Eleanor’sfirst connected words. “I am quite well. Thiskindness distracts me—I cannot bear it—Icome to you on such an errand!”

“Errand! To me!”“How shall I tell you! Oh! How shall I tell

you!”A new idea now darted into Catherine’s

mind, and turning as pale as her friend, sheexclaimed, “’Tis a messenger from Woodston!”

“You are mistaken, indeed,” returnedEleanor, looking at her most compassionately;

290 NORTHANGER ABBEY

“it is no one from Woodston. It is my fa-ther himself.” Her voice faltered, and hereyes were turned to the ground as she men-tioned his name. His unlooked-for return wasenough in itself to make Catherine’s heartsink, and for a few moments she hardly sup-posed there were anything worse to be told.She said nothing; and Eleanor, endeavouringto collect herself and speak with firmness, butwith eyes still cast down, soon went on. “Youare too good, I am sure, to think the worseof me for the part I am obliged to perform. Iam indeed a most unwilling messenger. Af-ter what has so lately passed, so lately beensettled between us—how joyfully, how thank-fully on my side!—as to your continuing hereas I hoped for many, many weeks longer, howcan I tell you that your kindness is not to beaccepted—and that the happiness your com-pany has hitherto given us is to be repaid by—But I must not trust myself with words. Mydear Catherine, we are to part. My fatherhas recollected an engagement that takes ourwhole family away on Monday. We are goingto Lord Longtown’s, near Hereford, for a fort-night. Explanation and apology are equallyimpossible. I cannot attempt either.”

“My dear Eleanor,” cried Catherine, sup-pressing her feelings as well as she could, “donot be so distressed. A second engagementmust give way to a first. I am very, very sorrywe are to part—so soon, and so suddenly too;but I am not offended, indeed I am not. I canfinish my visit here, you know, at any time; orI hope you will come to me. Can you, when you

CHAPTER 28 291

return from this lord’s, come to Fullerton?”“It will not be in my power, Catherine.”“Come when you can, then.”Eleanor made no answer; and Cather-

ine’s thoughts recurring to something more di-rectly interesting, she added, thinkng aloud,“Monday—so soon as Monday; and you all go.Well, I am certain of—I shall be able to takeleave, however. I need not go till just be-fore you do, you know. Do not be distressed,Eleanor, I can go on Monday very well. Myfather and mother’s having no notice of it isof very little consequence. The general willsend a servant with me, I dare say, half theway—and then I shall soon be at Salisbury,and then I am only nine miles from home.”

“Ah, Catherine! Were it settled so, it wouldbe somewhat less intolerable, though in suchcommon attentions you would have receivedbut half what you ought. But—how can Itell you?—tomorrow morning is fixed for yourleaving us, and not even the hour is left toyour choice; the very carriage is ordered, andwill be here at seven o’clock, and no servantwill be offered you.”

Catherine sat down, breathless andspeechless. “I could hardly believe my senses,when I heard it; and no displeasure, noresentment that you can feel at this moment,however justly great, can be more than Imyself—but I must not talk of what I felt. Oh!That I could suggest anything in extenuation!Good God! What will your father and mothersay! After courting you from the protection ofreal friends to this—almost double distance

292 NORTHANGER ABBEY

from your home, to have you driven out ofthe house, without the considerations evenof decent civility! Dear, dear Catherine, inbeing the bearer of such a message, I seemguilty myself of all its insult; yet, I trust youwill acquit me, for you must have been longenough in this house to see that I am but anominal mistress of it, that my real power isnothing.”

“Have I offended the general?” saidCatherine in a faltering voice.

“Alas! For my feelings as a daughter, allthat I know, all that I answer for, is thatyou can have given him no just cause of of-fence. He certainly is greatly, very greatlydiscomposed; I have seldom seen him moreso. His temper is not happy, and somethinghas now occurred to ruffle it in an uncommondegree; some disappointment, some vexation,which just at this moment seems important,but which I can hardly suppose you to haveany concern in, for how is it possible?”

It was with pain that Catherine couldspeak at all; and it was only for Eleanor’s sakethat she attempted it. “I am sure,” said she, “Iam very sorry if I have offended him. It wasthe last thing I would willingly have done. Butdo not be unhappy, Eleanor. An engagement,you know, must be kept. I am only sorry it wasnot recollected sooner, that I might have writ-ten home. But it is of very little consequence.”

“I hope, I earnestly hope, that to your realsafety it will be of none; but to everything elseit is of the greatest consequence: to comfort,appearance, propriety, to your family, to the

CHAPTER 28 293

world. Were your friends, the Allens, still inBath, you might go to them with comparativeease; a few hours would take you there; but ajourney of seventy miles, to be taken post byyou, at your age, alone, unattended!”

“Oh, the journey is nothing. Do not thinkabout that. And if we are to part, a few hourssooner or later, you know, makes no differ-ence. I can be ready by seven. Let me becalled in time.” Eleanor saw that she wishedto be alone; and believing it better for eachthat they should avoid any further conversa-tion, now left her with, “I shall see you in themorning.”

Catherine’s swelling heart needed relief.In Eleanor’s presence friendship and pridehad equally restrained her tears, but nosooner was she gone than they burst forthin torrents. Turned from the house, and insuch a way! Without any reason that couldjustify, any apology that could atone for theabruptness, the rudeness, nay, the insolenceof it. Henry at a distance—not able even tobid him farewell. Every hope, every expecta-tion from him suspended, at least, and whocould say how long? Who could say when theymight meet again? And all this by such aman as General Tilney, so polite, so well bred,and heretofore so particularly fond of her! Itwas as incomprehensible as it was mortify-ing and grievous. From what it could arise,and where it would end, were considerationsof equal perplexity and alarm. The mannerin which it was done so grossly uncivil, hurry-ing her away without any reference to her own

294 NORTHANGER ABBEY

convenience, or allowing her even the appear-ance of choice as to the time or mode of hertravelling; of two days, the earliest fixed on,and of that almost the earliest hour, as if re-solved to have her gone before he was stirringin the morning, that he might not be obligedeven to see her. What could all this meanbut an intentional affront? By some meansor other she must have had the misfortune tooffend him. Eleanor had wished to spare herfrom so painful a notion, but Catherine couldnot believe it possible that any injury or anymisfortune could provoke such ill will againsta person not connected, or, at least, not sup-posed to be connected with it.

Heavily passed the night. Sleep, or reposethat deserved the name of sleep, was out of thequestion. That room, in which her disturbedimagination had tormented her on her first ar-rival, was again the scene of agitated spiritsand unquiet slumbers. Yet how different nowthe source of her inquietude from what it hadbeen then—how mournfully superior in real-ity and substance! Her anxiety had founda-tion in fact, her fears in probability; and witha mind so occupied in the contemplation of ac-tual and natural evil, the solitude of her situ-ation, the darkness of her chamber, the antiq-uity of the building, were felt and consideredwithout the smallest emotion; and though thewind was high, and often produced strangeand sudden noises throughout the house, sheheard it all as she lay awake, hour after hour,without curiosity or terror.

Soon after six Eleanor entered her room,

CHAPTER 28 295

eager to show attention or give assistancewhere it was possible; but very little remainedto be done. Catherine had not loitered; shewas almost dressed, and her packing almostfinished. The possibility of some conciliatorymessage from the general occurred to her ashis daughter appeared. What so natural, asthat anger should pass away and repentancesucceed it? And she only wanted to knowhow far, after what had passed, an apologymight properly be received by her. But theknowledge would have been useless here; itwas not called for; neither clemency nor dig-nity was put to the trial—Eleanor brought nomessage. Very little passed between themon meeting; each found her greatest safetyin silence, and few and trivial were the sen-tences exchanged while they remained up-stairs, Catherine in busy agitation complet-ing her dress, and Eleanor with more goodwillthan experience intent upon filling the trunk.When everything was done they left the room,Catherine lingering only half a minute behindher friend to throw a parting glance on ev-ery well-known, cherished object, and wentdown to the breakfast-parlour, where break-fast was prepared. She tried to eat, as well tosave herself from the pain of being urged as tomake her friend comfortable; but she had noappetite, and could not swallow many mouth-fuls. The contrast between this and her lastbreakfast in that room gave her fresh mis-ery, and strengthened her distaste for every-thing before her. It was not four and twentyhours ago since they had met there to the

296 NORTHANGER ABBEY

same repast, but in circumstances how differ-ent! With what cheerful ease, what happy,though false, security, had she then lookedaround her, enjoying everything present, andfearing little in future, beyond Henry’s goingto Woodston for a day! Happy, happy break-fast! For Henry had been there; Henry hadsat by her and helped her. These reflectionswere long indulged undisturbed by any ad-dress from her companion, who sat as deep inthought as herself; and the appearance of thecarriage was the first thing to startle and re-call them to the present moment. Catherine’scolour rose at the sight of it; and the indig-nity with which she was treated, striking atthat instant on her mind with peculiar force,made her for a short time sensible only of re-sentment. Eleanor seemed now impelled intoresolution and speech.

“You must write to me, Catherine,” shecried; “you must let me hear from you as soonas possible. Till I know you to be safe at home,I shall not have an hour’s comfort. For one let-ter, at all risks, all hazards, I must entreat.Let me have the satisfaction of knowing thatyou are safe at Fullerton, and have found yourfamily well, and then, till I can ask for yourcorrespondence as I ought to do, I will not ex-pect more. Direct to me at Lord Longtown’s,and, I must ask it, under cover to Alice.”

“No, Eleanor, if you are not allowed to re-ceive a letter from me, I am sure I had betternot write. There can be no doubt of my gettinghome safe.”

Eleanor only replied, “I cannot wonder at

CHAPTER 28 297

your feelings. I will not importune you. I willtrust to your own kindness of heart when Iam at a distance from you.” But this, with thelook of sorrow accompanying it, was enoughto melt Catherine’s pride in a moment, andshe instantly said, “Oh, Eleanor, I will writeto you indeed.”

There was yet another point which MissTilney was anxious to settle, though some-what embarrassed in speaking of. It had oc-curred to her that after so long an absencefrom home, Catherine might not be providedwith money enough for the expenses of herjourney, and, upon suggesting it to her withmost affectionate offers of accommodation, itproved to be exactly the case. Catherine hadnever thought on the subject till that moment,but, upon examining her purse, was convincedthat but for this kindness of her friend, shemight have been turned from the house with-out even the means of getting home; and thedistress in which she must have been therebyinvolved filling the minds of both, scarcely an-other word was said by either during the timeof their remaining together. Short, however,was that time. The carriage was soon an-nounced to be ready; and Catherine, instantlyrising, a long and affectionate embrace sup-plied the place of language in bidding eachother adieu; and, as they entered the hall,unable to leave the house without some men-tion of one whose name had not yet been spo-ken by either, she paused a moment, and withquivering lips just made it intelligible thatshe left “her kind remembrance for her absent

298 NORTHANGER ABBEY

friend.” But with this approach to his nameended all possibility of restraining her feel-ings; and, hiding her face as well as she couldwith her handkerchief, she darted across thehall, jumped into the chaise, and in a momentwas driven from the door.

CHAPTER 29

Catherine was too wretched to be fearful.The journey in itself had no terrors for her;and she began it without either dreading itslength or feeling its solitariness. Leaningback in one comer of the carriage, in a vio-lent burst of tears, she was conveyed somemiles beyond the walls of the abbey beforeshe raised her head; and the highest pointof ground within the park was almost closedfrom her view before she was capable of turn-ing her eyes towards it. Unfortunately, theroad she now travelled was the same whichonly ten days ago she had so happily passedalong in going to and from Woodston; and, forfourteen miles, every bitter feeling was ren-dered more severe by the review of objects onwhich she had first looked under impressionsso different. Every mile, as it brought hernearer Woodston, added to her sufferings, andwhen within the distance of five, she passedthe turning which led to it, and thought ofHenry, so near, yet so unconscious, her griefand agitation were excessive.

The day which she had spent at that placehad been one of the happiest of her life. It

299

300 NORTHANGER ABBEY

was there, it was on that day, that the generalhad made use of such expressions with regardto Henry and herself, had so spoken and solooked as to give her the most positive con-viction of his actually wishing their marriage.Yes, only ten days ago had he elated her by hispointed regard—had he even confused her byhis too significant reference! And now—whathad she done, or what had she omitted to do,to merit such a change?

The only offence against him of whichshe could accuse herself had been such aswas scarcely possible to reach his knowledge.Henry and her own heart only were privy tothe shocking suspicions which she had so idlyentertained; and equally safe did she believeher secret with each. Designedly, at least,Henry could not have betrayed her. If, in-deed, by any strange mischance his fathershould have gained intelligence of what shehad dared to think and look for, of her cause-less fancies and injurious examinations, shecould not wonder at any degree of his indig-nation. If aware of her having viewed him asa murderer, she could not wonder at his eventurning her from his house. But a justificationso full of torture to herself, she trusted, wouldnot be in his power.

Anxious as were all her conjectures on thispoint, it was not, however, the one on whichshe dwelt most. There was a thought yetnearer, a more prevailing, more impetuousconcern. How Henry would think, and feel,and look, when he returned on the morrow toNorthanger and heard of her being gone, was

CHAPTER 29 301

a question of force and interest to rise over ev-ery other, to be never ceasing, alternately ir-ritating and soothing; it sometimes suggestedthe dread of his calm acquiescence, and at oth-ers was answered by the sweetest confidencein his regret and resentment. To the general,of course, he would not dare to speak; but toEleanor—what might he not say to Eleanorabout her?

In this unceasing recurrence of doubts andinquiries, on any one article of which her mindwas incapable of more than momentary re-pose, the hours passed away, and her jour-ney advanced much faster than she lookedfor. The pressing anxieties of thought, whichprevented her from noticing anything beforeher, when once beyond the neighbourhood ofWoodston, saved her at the same time fromwatching her progress; and though no objecton the road could engage a moment’s atten-tion, she found no stage of it tedious. Fromthis, she was preserved too by another cause,by feeling no eagerness for her journey’s con-clusion; for to return in such a manner toFullerton was almost to destroy the plea-sure of a meeting with those she loved best,even after an absence such as hers—an elevenweeks’ absence. What had she to say thatwould not humble herself and pain her fam-ily, that would not increase her own grief bythe confession of it, extend an useless resent-ment, and perhaps involve the innocent withthe guilty in undistinguishing ill will? Shecould never do justice to Henry and Eleanor’smerit; she felt it too strongly for expression;

302 NORTHANGER ABBEY

and should a dislike be taken against them,should they be thought of unfavourably, ontheir father’s account, it would cut her to theheart.

With these feelings, she rather dreadedthan sought for the first view of that well-known spire which would announce herwithin twenty miles of home. Salisburyshe had known to be her point on leavingNorthanger; but after the first stage she hadbeen indebted to the post-masters for thenames of the places which were then to con-duct her to it; so great had been her ignoranceof her route. She met with nothing, however,to distress or frighten her. Her youth, civilmanners, and liberal pay procured her all theattention that a traveller like herself could re-quire; and stopping only to change horses, shetravelled on for about eleven hours withoutaccident or alarm, and between six and seveno’clock in the evening found herself enteringFullerton.

A heroine returning, at the close of her ca-reer, to her native village, in all the triumphof recovered reputation, and all the dignityof a countess, with a long train of noble re-lations in their several phaetons, and threewaiting-maids in a travelling chaise and four,behind her, is an event on which the pen ofthe contriver may well delight to dwell; itgives credit to every conclusion, and the au-thor must share in the glory she so liberallybestows. But my affair is widely different; Ibring back my heroine to her home in solitudeand disgrace; and no sweet elation of spirits

CHAPTER 29 303

can lead me into minuteness. A heroine ina hack post-chaise is such a blow upon senti-ment, as no attempt at grandeur or pathos canwithstand. Swiftly therefore shall her post-boy drive through the village, amid the gazeof Sunday groups, and speedy shall be her de-scent from it.

But, whatever might be the distress ofCatherine’s mind, as she thus advanced to-wards the parsonage, and whatever the hu-miliation of her biographer in relating it, shewas preparing enjoyment of no everyday na-ture for those to whom she went; first, in theappearance of her carriage—and secondly, inherself. The chaise of a traveller being a raresight in Fullerton, the whole family were im-mediately at the window; and to have it stopat the sweep-gate was a pleasure to brightenevery eye and occupy every fancy—a pleasurequite unlooked for by all but the two youngestchildren, a boy and girl of six and four yearsold, who expected a brother or sister in everycarriage. Happy the glance that first distin-guished Catherine! Happy the voice that pro-claimed the discovery! But whether such hap-piness were the lawful property of George orHarriet could never be exactly understood.

Her father, mother, Sarah, George, andHarriet, all assembled at the door to welcomeher with affectionate eagerness, was a sight toawaken the best feelings of Catherine’s heart;and in the embrace of each, as she steppedfrom the carriage, she found herself soothedbeyond anything that she had believed possi-ble. So surrounded, so caressed, she was even

304 NORTHANGER ABBEY

happy! In the joyfulness of family love every-thing for a short time was subdued, and thepleasure of seeing her, leaving them at firstlittle leisure for calm curiosity, they were allseated round the tea-table, which Mrs. Mor-land had hurried for the comfort of the poortraveller, whose pale and jaded looks sooncaught her notice, before any inquiry so directas to demand a positive answer was addressedto her.

Reluctantly, and with much hesitation, didshe then begin what might perhaps, at theend of half an hour, be termed, by the courtesyof her hearers, an explanation; but scarcely,within that time, could they at all discover thecause, or collect the particulars, of her sud-den return. They were far from being an ir-ritable race; far from any quickness in catch-ing, or bitterness in resenting, affronts: buthere, when the whole was unfolded, was aninsult not to be overlooked, nor, for the firsthalf hour, to be easily pardoned. Without suf-fering any romantic alarm, in the considera-tion of their daughter’s long and lonely jour-ney, Mr. and Mrs. Morland could not but feelthat it might have been productive of muchunpleasantness to her; that it was what theycould never have voluntarily suffered; andthat, in forcing her on such a measure, Gen-eral Tilney had acted neither honourably norfeelingly—neither as a gentleman nor as aparent. Why he had done it, what could haveprovoked him to such a breach of hospitality,and so suddenly turned all his partial regardfor their daughter into actual ill will, was a

CHAPTER 29 305

matter which they were at least as far fromdivining as Catherine herself; but it did notoppress them by any means so long; and, aftera due course of useless conjecture, that “it wasa strange business, and that he must be a verystrange man,” grew enough for all their indig-nation and wonder; though Sarah indeed stillindulged in the sweets of incomprehensibility,exclaiming and conjecturing with youthful ar-dour.

“My dear, you give yourself a great deal ofneedless trouble,” said her mother at last; “de-pend upon it, it is something not at all worthunderstanding.”

“I can allow for his wishing Catherineaway, when he recollected this engagement,”said Sarah, “but why not do it civilly?”

“I am sorry for the young people,” returnedMrs. Morland; “they must have a sad time ofit; but as for anything else, it is no matternow; Catherine is safe at home, and our com-fort does not depend upon General Tilney.”Catherine sighed. “Well,” continued her philo-sophic mother, “I am glad I did not know ofyour journey at the time; but now it is anover, perhaps there is no great harm done.It is always good for young people to be putupon exerting themselves; and you know, mydear Catherine, you always were a sad littleshatter-brained creature; but now you musthave been forced to have your wits about you,with so much changing of chaises and so forth;and I hope it will appear that you have not leftanything behind you in any of the pockets.”

Catherine hoped so too, and tried to feel an

306 NORTHANGER ABBEY

interest in her own amendment, but her spir-its were quite worn down; and, to be silentand alone becoming soon her only wish, shereadily agreed to her mother’s next counsel ofgoing early to bed. Her parents, seeing noth-ing in her ill looks and agitation but the natu-ral consequence of mortified feelings, and ofthe unusual exertion and fatigue of such ajourney, parted from her without any doubtof their being soon slept away; and though,when they all met the next morning, her re-covery was not equal to their hopes, they werestill perfectly unsuspicious of there being anydeeper evil. They never once thought of herheart, which, for the parents of a young ladyof seventeen, just returned from her first ex-cursion from home, was odd enough!

As soon as breakfast was over, she satdown to fulfil her promise to Miss Tilney,whose trust in the effect of time and distanceon her friend’s disposition was already justi-fied, for already did Catherine reproach her-self with having parted from Eleanor coldly,with having never enough valued her meritsor kindness, and never enough commiseratedher for what she had been yesterday left to en-dure. The strength of these feelings, however,was far from assisting her pen; and never hadit been harder for her to write than in address-ing Eleanor Tilney. To compose a letter whichmight at once do justice to her sentimentsand her situation, convey gratitude with-out servile regret, be guarded without cold-ness, and honest without resentment—a let-ter which Eleanor might not be pained by the

CHAPTER 29 307

perusal of—and, above all, which she mightnot blush herself, if Henry should chance tosee, was an undertaking to frighten away allher powers of performance; and, after longthought and much perplexity, to be very briefwas all that she could determine on with anyconfidence of safety. The money thereforewhich Eleanor had advanced was enclosedwith little more than grateful thanks, and thethousand good wishes of a most affectionateheart.

“This has been a strange acquaintance,”observed Mrs. Morland, as the letter was fin-ished; “soon made and soon ended. I am sorryit happens so, for Mrs. Allen thought themvery pretty kind of young people; and youwere sadly out of luck too in your Isabella. Ah!Poor James! Well, we must live and learn; andthe next new friends you make I hope will bebetter worth keeping.”

Catherine coloured as she warmly an-swered, “No friend can be better worth keep-ing than Eleanor.”

“If so, my dear, I dare say you will meetagain some time or other; do not be uneasy.It is ten to one but you are thrown togetheragain in the course of a few years; and thenwhat a pleasure it will be!”

Mrs. Morland was not happy in her at-tempt at consolation. The hope of meetingagain in the course of a few years could onlyput into Catherine’s head what might happenwithin that time to make a meeting dreadfulto her. She could never forget Henry Tilney,or think of him with less tenderness than

308 NORTHANGER ABBEY

she did at that moment; but he might forgether; and in that case, to meet—! Her eyesfilled with tears as she pictured her acquain-tance so renewed; and her mother, perceivingher comfortable suggestions to have had nogood effect, proposed, as another expedient forrestoring her spirits, that they should call onMrs. Allen.

The two houses were only a quarter of amile apart; and, as they walked, Mrs. Mor-land quickly dispatched all that she felt onthe score of James’s disappointment. “We aresorry for him,” said she; “but otherwise thereis no harm done in the match going off; for itcould not be a desirable thing to have him en-gaged to a girl whom we had not the small-est acquaintance with, and who was so en-tirely without fortune; and now, after such be-haviour, we cannot think at all well of her.Just at present it comes hard to poor James;but that will not last forever; and I dare sayhe will be a discreeter man all his life, for thefoolishness of his first choice.”

This was just such a summary view of theaffair as Catherine could listen to; anothersentence might have endangered her com-plaisance, and made her reply less rational;for soon were all her thinking powers swal-lowed up in the reflection of her own changeof feelings and spirits since last she had trod-den that well-known road. It was not threemonths ago since, wild with joyful expecta-tion, she had there run backwards and for-wards some ten times a day, with an heartlight, gay, and independent; looking forward

CHAPTER 29 309

to pleasures untasted and unalloyed, and freefrom the apprehension of evil as from theknowledge of it. Three months ago had seenher all this; and now, how altered a being didshe return!

She was received by the Allens with all thekindness which her unlooked-for appearance,acting on a steady affection, would naturallycall forth; and great was their surprise, andwarm their displeasure, on hearing how shehad been treated—though Mrs. Morland’s ac-count of it was no inflated representation, nostudied appeal to their passions. “Catherinetook us quite by surprise yesterday evening,”said she. “She travelled all the way post byherself, and knew nothing of coming till Sat-urday night; for General Tilney, from someodd fancy or other, all of a sudden grew tired ofhaving her there, and almost turned her out ofthe house. Very unfriendly, certainly; and hemust be a very odd man; but we are so glad tohave her amongst us again! And it is a greatcomfort to find that she is not a poor helplesscreature, but can shift very well for herself.”

Mr. Allen expressed himself on the occa-sion with the reasonable resentment of a sen-sible friend; and Mrs. Allen thought his ex-pressions quite good enough to be immedi-ately made use of again by herself. His won-der, his conjectures, and his explanations be-came in succession hers, with the additionof this single remark—“I really have not pa-tience with the general”—to fill up every ac-cidental pause. And, “I really have not pa-tience with the general,” was uttered twice af-

310 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ter Mr. Allen left the room, without any re-laxation of anger, or any material digressionof thought. A more considerable degree ofwandering attended the third repetition; and,after completing the fourth, she immediatelyadded, “Only think, my dear, of my having gotthat frightful great rent in my best Mechlinso charmingly mended, before I left Bath, thatone can hardly see where it was. I must showit you some day or other. Bath is a nice place,Catherine, after all. I assure you I did notabove half like coming away. Mrs. Thorpe’sbeing there was such a comfort to us, was notit? You know, you and I were quite forlorn atfirst.”

“Yes, but that did not last long,” saidCatherine, her eyes brightening at the recol-lection of what had first given spirit to her ex-istence there.

“Very true: we soon met with Mrs. Thorpe,and then we wanted for nothing. My dear, donot you think these silk gloves wear very well?I put them on new the first time of our going tothe Lower Rooms, you know, and I have wornthem a great deal since. Do you rememberthat evening?”

“Do I! Oh! Perfectly.”“It was very agreeable, was not it? Mr.

Tilney drank tea with us, and I alwaysthought him a great addition, he is so veryagreeable. I have a notion you danced withhim, but am not quite sure. I remember I hadmy favourite gown on.”

Catherine could not answer; and, after ashort trial of other subjects, Mrs. Allen again

CHAPTER 29 311

returned to—“I really have not patience withthe general! Such an agreeable, worthy manas he seemed to be! I do not suppose, Mrs.Morland, you ever saw a better-bred man inyour life. His lodgings were taken the veryday after he left them, Catherine. But no won-der; Milsom Street, you know.”

As they walked home again, Mrs. Morlandendeavoured to impress on her daughter’smind the happiness of having such steadywell-wishers as Mr. and Mrs. Allen, and thevery little consideration which the neglect orunkindness of slight acquaintance like theTilneys ought to have with her, while shecould preserve the good opinion and affectionof her earliest friends. There was a greatdeal of good sense in all this; but there aresome situations of the human mind in whichgood sense has very little power; and Cather-ine’s feelings contradicted almost every posi-tion her mother advanced. It was upon thebehaviour of these very slight acquaintancethat all her present happiness depended; andwhile Mrs. Morland was successfully confirm-ing her own opinions by the justness of herown representations, Catherine was silentlyreflecting that now Henry must have arrivedat Northanger; now he must have heard of herdeparture; and now, perhaps, they were allsetting off for Hereford.

312 NORTHANGER ABBEY

CHAPTER 30

Catherine’s disposition was not naturallysedentary, nor had her habits been eververy industrious; but whatever might hith-erto have been her defects of that sort, hermother could not but perceive them now to begreatly increased. She could neither sit stillnor employ herself for ten minutes together,walking round the garden and orchard againand again, as if nothing but motion was volun-tary; and it seemed as if she could even walkabout the house rather than remain fixed forany time in the parlour. Her loss of spiritswas a yet greater alteration. In her ramblingand her idleness she might only be a carica-ture of herself; but in her silence and sadnessshe was the very reverse of all that she hadbeen before.

For two days Mrs. Morland allowed it topass even without a hint; but when a thirdnight’s rest had neither restored her cheer-fulness, improved her in useful activity, norgiven her a greater inclination for needle-work, she could no longer refrain from thegentle reproof of, “My dear Catherine, I amafraid you are growing quite a fine lady. I do

313

314 NORTHANGER ABBEY

not know when poor Richard’s cravats wouldbe done, if he had no friend but you. Your headruns too much upon Bath; but there is a timefor everything—a time for balls and plays, anda time for work. You have had a long run ofamusement, and now you must try to be use-ful.”

Catherine took up her work directly, say-ing, in a dejected voice, that “her head did notrun upon Bath—much.”

“Then you are fretting about GeneralTilney, and that is very simple of you; for tento one whether you ever see him again. Youshould never fret about trifles.” After a shortsilence—“I hope, my Catherine, you are notgetting out of humour with home because itis not so grand as Northanger. That would beturning your visit into an evil indeed. Wher-ever you are you should always be contented,but especially at home, because there youmust spend the most of your time. I did notquite like, at breakfast, to hear you talk somuch about the French bread at Northanger.”

“I am sure I do not care about the bread. itis all the same to me what I eat.”

“There is a very clever essay in one ofthe books upstairs upon much such a subject,about young girls that have been spoilt forhome by great acquaintance—The Mirror, Ithink. I will look it out for you some day orother, because I am sure it will do you good.”

Catherine said no more, and, with an en-deavour to do right, applied to her work;but, after a few minutes, sunk again, withoutknowing it herself, into languor and listless-

CHAPTER 30 315

ness, moving herself in her chair, from the ir-ritation of weariness, much oftener than shemoved her needle. Mrs. Morland watched theprogress of this relapse; and seeing, in herdaughter’s absent and dissatisfied look, thefull proof of that repining spirit to which shehad now begun to attribute her want of cheer-fulness, hastily left the room to fetch the bookin question, anxious to lose no time in at-tacking so dreadful a malady. It was sometime before she could find what she lookedfor; and other family matters occurring to de-tain her, a quarter of an hour had elapsedere she returned downstairs with the volumefrom which so much was hoped. Her avo-cations above having shut out all noise butwhat she created herself, she knew not thata visitor had arrived within the last few min-utes, till, on entering the room, the first ob-ject she beheld was a young man whom shehad never seen before. With a look of muchrespect, he immediately rose, and being in-troduced to her by her conscious daughter as“Mr. Henry Tilney,” with the embarrassmentof real sensibility began to apologize for hisappearance there, acknowledging that afterwhat had passed he had little right to expecta welcome at Fullerton, and stating his im-patience to be assured of Miss Morland’s hav-ing reached her home in safety, as the causeof his intrusion. He did not address himselfto an uncandid judge or a resentful heart. Farfrom comprehending him or his sister in theirfather’s misconduct, Mrs. Morland had beenalways kindly disposed towards each, and in-

316 NORTHANGER ABBEY

stantly, pleased by his appearance, receivedhim with the simple professions of unaffectedbenevolence; thanking him for such an atten-tion to her daughter, assuring him that thefriends of her children were always welcomethere, and entreating him to say not anotherword of the past.

He was not ill-inclined to obey this request,for, though his heart was greatly relieved bysuch unlooked-for mildness, it was not just atthat moment in his power to say anything tothe purpose. Returning in silence to his seat,therefore, he remained for some minutes mostcivilly answering all Mrs. Morland’s com-mon remarks about the weather and roads.Catherine meanwhile—the anxious, agitated,happy, feverish Catherine—said not a word;but her glowing cheek and brightened eyemade her mother trust that this good-naturedvisit would at least set her heart at ease for atime, and gladly therefore did she lay asidethe first volume of The Mirror for a futurehour.

Desirous of Mr. Morland’s assistance, aswell in giving encouragement, as in findingconversation for her guest, whose embarrass-ment on his father’s account she earnestlypitied, Mrs. Morland had very early dis-patched one of the children to summon him;but Mr. Morland was from home—and beingthus without any support, at the end of aquarter of an hour she had nothing to say.After a couple of minutes’ unbroken silence,Henry, turning to Catherine for the first timesince her mother’s entrance, asked her, with

CHAPTER 30 317

sudden alacrity, if Mr. and Mrs. Allen werenow at Fullerton? And on developing, fromamidst all her perplexity of words in reply, themeaning, which one short syllable would havegiven, immediately expressed his intention ofpaying his respects to them, and, with a ris-ing colour, asked her if she would have thegoodness to show him the way. “You may seethe house from this window, sir,” was informa-tion on Sarah’s side, which produced only abow of acknowledgment from the gentleman,and a silencing nod from her mother; for Mrs.Morland, thinking it probable, as a secondaryconsideration in his wish of waiting on theirworthy neighbours, that he might have someexplanation to give of his father’s behaviour,which it must be more pleasant for him tocommunicate only to Catherine, would not onany account prevent her accompanying him.They began their walk, and Mrs. Morland wasnot entirely mistaken in his object in wishingit. Some explanation on his father’s accounthe had to give; but his first purpose was toexplain himself, and before they reached Mr.Allen’s grounds he had done it so well thatCatherine did not think it could ever be re-peated too often. She was assured of his af-fection; and that heart in return was solicited,which, perhaps, they pretty equally knew wasalready entirely his own; for, though Henrywas now sincerely attached to her, though hefelt and delighted in all the excellencies of hercharacter and truly loved her society, I mustconfess that his affection originated in noth-ing better than gratitude, or, in other words,

318 NORTHANGER ABBEY

that a persuasion of her partiality for him hadbeen the only cause of giving her a seriousthought. It is a new circumstance in romance,I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory ofan heroine’s dignity; but if it be as new in com-mon life, the credit of a wild imagination willat least be all my own.

A very short visit to Mrs. Allen, in whichHenry talked at random, without sense orconnection, and Catherine, rapt in the con-templation of her own unutterable happiness,scarcely opened her lips, dismissed them tothe ecstasies of another tête-à-tête; and beforeit was suffered to close, she was enabled tojudge how far he was sanctioned by parentalauthority in his present application. On hisreturn from Woodston, two days before, hehad been met near the abbey by his impa-tient father, hastily informed in angry termsof Miss Morland’s departure, and ordered tothink of her no more.

Such was the permission upon which hehad now offered her his hand. The affrightedCatherine, amidst all the terrors of expecta-tion, as she listened to this account, couldnot but rejoice in the kind caution with whichHenry had saved her from the necessity of aconscientious rejection, by engaging her faithbefore he mentioned the subject; and as heproceeded to give the particulars, and explainthe motives of his father’s conduct, her feel-ings soon hardened into even a triumphantdelight. The general had had nothing to ac-cuse her of, nothing to lay to her charge, buther being the involuntary, unconscious object

CHAPTER 30 319

of a deception which his pride could not par-don, and which a better pride would have beenashamed to own. She was guilty only of beingless rich than he had supposed her to be. Un-der a mistaken persuasion of her possessionsand claims, he had courted her acquaintancein Bath, solicited her company at Northanger,and designed her for his daughter-in-law. Ondiscovering his error, to turn her from thehouse seemed the best, though to his feel-ings an inadequate proof of his resentment to-wards herself, and his contempt of her family.

John Thorpe had first misled him. Thegeneral, perceiving his son one night at thetheatre to be paying considerable attention toMiss Morland, had accidentally inquired ofThorpe if he knew more of her than her name.Thorpe, most happy to be on speaking termswith a man of General Tilney’s importance,had been joyfully and proudly communicative;and being at that time not only in daily ex-pectation of Morland’s engaging Isabella, butlikewise pretty well resolved upon marryingCatherine himself, his vanity induced him torepresent the family as yet more wealthy thanhis vanity and avarice had made him believethem. With whomsoever he was, or was likelyto be connected, his own consequence alwaysrequired that theirs should be great, and ashis intimacy with any acquaintance grew, soregularly grew their fortune. The expecta-tions of his friend Morland, therefore, fromthe first overrated, had ever since his intro-duction to Isabella been gradually increasing;and by merely adding twice as much for the

320 NORTHANGER ABBEY

grandeur of the moment, by doubling what hechose to think the amount of Mr. Morland’spreferment, trebling his private fortune, be-stowing a rich aunt, and sinking half the chil-dren, he was able to represent the whole fam-ily to the general in a most respectable light.For Catherine, however, the peculiar objectof the general’s curiosity, and his own spec-ulations, he had yet something more in re-serve, and the ten or fifteen thousand poundswhich her father could give her would be apretty addition to Mr. Allen’s estate. Her in-timacy there had made him seriously deter-mine on her being handsomely legacied here-after; and to speak of her therefore as the al-most acknowledged future heiress of Fuller-ton naturally followed. Upon such intelli-gence the general had proceeded; for neverhad it occurred to him to doubt its author-ity. Thorpe’s interest in the family, by his sis-ter’s approaching connection with one of itsmembers, and his own views on another (cir-cumstances of which he boasted with almostequal openness), seemed sufficient vouchersfor his truth; and to these were added the ab-solute facts of the Allens being wealthy andchildless, of Miss Morland’s being under theircare, and—as soon as his acquaintance al-lowed him to judge—of their treating her withparental kindness. His resolution was soonformed. Already had he discerned a likingtowards Miss Morland in the countenance ofhis son; and thankful for Mr. Thorpe’s com-munication, he almost instantly determinedto spare no pains in weakening his boasted in-

CHAPTER 30 321

terest and ruining his dearest hopes. Cather-ine herself could not be more ignorant at thetime of all this, than his own children. Henryand Eleanor, perceiving nothing in her situ-ation likely to engage their father’s particu-lar respect, had seen with astonishment thesuddenness, continuance, and extent of his at-tention; and though latterly, from some hintswhich had accompanied an almost positivecommand to his son of doing everything in hispower to attach her, Henry was convinced ofhis father’s believing it to be an advantageousconnection, it was not till the late explana-tion at Northanger that they had the smallestidea of the false calculations which had hur-ried him on. That they were false, the generalhad learnt from the very person who had sug-gested them, from Thorpe himself, whom hehad chanced to meet again in town, and who,under the influence of exactly opposite feel-ings, irritated by Catherine’s refusal, and yetmore by the failure of a very recent endeavourto accomplish a reconciliation between Mor-land and Isabella, convinced that they wereseparated forever, and spurning a friendshipwhich could be no longer serviceable, has-tened to contradict all that he had said beforeto the advantage of the Morlands—confessedhimself to have been totally mistaken in hisopinion of their circumstances and character,misled by the rhodomontade of his friend tobelieve his father a man of substance andcredit, whereas the transactions of the two orthree last weeks proved him to be neither; forafter coming eagerly forward on the first over-

322 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ture of a marriage between the families, withthe most liberal proposals, he had, on beingbrought to the point by the shrewdness of therelator, been constrained to acknowledge him-self incapable of giving the young people evena decent support. They were, in fact, a neces-sitous family; numerous, too, almost beyondexample; by no means respected in their ownneighbourhood, as he had lately had particu-lar opportunities of discovering; aiming at astyle of life which their fortune could not war-rant; seeking to better themselves by wealthyconnections; a forward, bragging, schemingrace.

The terrified general pronounced the nameof Allen with an inquiring look; and here tooThorpe had learnt his error. The Allens, hebelieved, had lived near them too long, and heknew the young man on whom the Fullertonestate must devolve. The general needed nomore. Enraged with almost everybody in theworld but himself, he set out the next day forthe abbey, where his performances have beenseen.

I leave it to my reader’s sagacity to de-termine how much of all this it was possi-ble for Henry to communicate at this timeto Catherine, how much of it he could havelearnt from his father, in what points his ownconjectures might assist him, and what por-tion must yet remain to be told in a letter fromJames. I have united for their case what theymust divide for mine. Catherine, at any rate,heard enough to feel that in suspecting Gen-eral Tilney of either murdering or shutting up

CHAPTER 30 323

his wife, she had scarcely sinned against hischaracter, or magnified his cruelty.

Henry, in having such things to relate ofhis father, was almost as pitiable as in theirfirst avowal to himself. He blushed for thenarrow-minded counsel which he was obligedto expose. The conversation between them atNorthanger had been of the most unfriendlykind. Henry’s indignation on hearing howCatherine had been treated, on comprehend-ing his father’s views, and being ordered to ac-quiesce in them, had been open and bold. Thegeneral, accustomed on every ordinary occa-sion to give the law in his family, prepared forno reluctance but of feeling, no opposing de-sire that should dare to clothe itself in words,could ill brook the opposition of his son, steadyas the sanction of reason and the dictate ofconscience could make it. But, in such a cause,his anger, though it must shock, could not in-timidate Henry, who was sustained in his pur-pose by a conviction of its justice. He felt him-self bound as much in honour as in affectionto Miss Morland, and believing that heart tobe his own which he had been directed to gain,no unworthy retraction of a tacit consent, noreversing decree of unjustifiable anger, couldshake his fidelity, or influence the resolutionsit prompted.

He steadily refused to accompany hisfather into Herefordshire, an engagementformed almost at the moment to promote thedismissal of Catherine, and as steadily de-clared his intention of offering her his hand.The general was furious in his anger, and they

324 NORTHANGER ABBEY

parted in dreadful disagreement. Henry, in anagitation of mind which many solitary hourswere required to compose, had returned al-most instantly to Woodston, and, on the after-noon of the following day, had begun his jour-ney to Fullerton.

CHAPTER 31

Mr. and Mrs. Morland’s surprise on being ap-plied to by Mr. Tilney for their consent to hismarrying their daughter was, for a few min-utes, considerable, it having never enteredtheir heads to suspect an attachment on ei-ther side; but as nothing, after all, could bemore natural than Catherine’s being beloved,they soon learnt to consider it with only thehappy agitation of gratified pride, and, as faras they alone were concerned, had not a sin-gle objection to start. His pleasing mannersand good sense were self-evident recommen-dations; and having never heard evil of him,it was not their way to suppose any evil couldbe told. Goodwill supplying the place of ex-perience, his character needed no attestation.“Catherine would make a sad, heedless younghousekeeper to be sure,” was her mother’sforeboding remark; but quick was the conso-lation of there being nothing like practice.

There was but one obstacle, in short, tobe mentioned; but till that one was removed,it must be impossible for them to sanctionthe engagement. Their tempers were mild,but their principles were steady, and while

325

326 NORTHANGER ABBEY

his parent so expressly forbade the connec-tion, they could not allow themselves to en-courage it. That the general should come for-ward to solicit the alliance, or that he shouldeven very heartily approve it, they were notrefined enough to make any parading stipu-lation; but the decent appearance of consentmust be yielded, and that once obtained—andtheir own hearts made them trust that itcould not be very long denied—their willingapprobation was instantly to follow. His con-sent was all that they wished for. They wereno more inclined than entitled to demand hismoney. Of a very considerable fortune, hisson was, by marriage settlements, eventuallysecure; his present income was an income ofindependence and comfort, and under everypecuniary view, it was a match beyond theclaims of their daughter.

The young people could not be surprisedat a decision like this. They felt and theydeplored—but they could not resent it; andthey parted, endeavouring to hope that sucha change in the general, as each believed al-most impossible, might speedily take place,to unite them again in the fullness of privi-leged affection. Henry returned to what wasnow his only home, to watch over his youngplantations, and extend his improvements forher sake, to whose share in them he lookedanxiously forward; and Catherine remainedat Fullerton to cry. Whether the torments ofabsence were softened by a clandestine corre-spondence, let us not inquire. Mr. and Mrs.Morland never did—they had been too kind to

CHAPTER 31 327

exact any promise; and whenever Catherinereceived a letter, as, at that time, happenedpretty often, they always looked another way.

The anxiety, which in this state of their at-tachment must be the portion of Henry andCatherine, and of all who loved either, as toits final event, can hardly extend, I fear, tothe bosom of my readers, who will see in thetell-tale compression of the pages before them,that we are all hastening together to per-fect felicity. The means by which their earlymarriage was effected can be the only doubt:what probable circumstance could work upona temper like the general’s? The circumstancewhich chiefly availed was the marriage of hisdaughter with a man of fortune and conse-quence, which took place in the course of thesummer—an accession of dignity that threwhim into a fit of good humour, from which hedid not recover till after Eleanor had obtainedhis forgiveness of Henry, and his permissionfor him “to be a fool if he liked it!”

The marriage of Eleanor Tilney, her re-moval from all the evils of such a home asNorthanger had been made by Henry’s ban-ishment, to the home of her choice and theman of her choice, is an event which I expectto give general satisfaction among all her ac-quaintance. My own joy on the occasion isvery sincere. I know no one more entitled, byunpretending merit, or better prepared by ha-bitual suffering, to receive and enjoy felicity.Her partiality for this gentleman was not ofrecent origin; and he had been long withheldonly by inferiority of situation from address-

328 NORTHANGER ABBEY

ing her. His unexpected accession to title andfortune had removed all his difficulties; andnever had the general loved his daughter sowell in all her hours of companionship, utility,and patient endurance as when he first hailedher “Your Ladyship!” Her husband was reallydeserving of her; independent of his peerage,his wealth, and his attachment, being to aprecision the most charming young man inthe world. Any further definition of his mer-its must be unnecessary; the most charmingyoung man in the world is instantly before theimagination of us all. Concerning the one inquestion, therefore, I have only to add—awarethat the rules of composition forbid the in-troduction of a character not connected withmy fable—that this was the very gentlemanwhose negligent servant left behind him thatcollection of washing-bills, resulting from along visit at Northanger, by which my hero-ine was involved in one of her most alarmingadventures.

The influence of the viscount and viscount-ess in their brother’s behalf was assisted bythat right understanding of Mr. Morland’s cir-cumstances which, as soon as the generalwould allow himself to be informed, they werequalified to give. It taught him that he hadbeen scarcely more misled by Thorpe’s firstboast of the family wealth than by his sub-sequent malicious overthrow of it; that in nosense of the word were they necessitous orpoor, and that Catherine would have threethousand pounds. This was so material anamendment of his late expectations that it

CHAPTER 31 329

greatly contributed to smooth the descent ofhis pride; and by no means without its ef-fect was the private intelligence, which he wasat some pains to procure, that the Fullertonestate, being entirely at the disposal of itspresent proprietor, was consequently open toevery greedy speculation.

On the strength of this, the general, soonafter Eleanor’s marriage, permitted his sonto return to Northanger, and thence madehim the bearer of his consent, very courte-ously worded in a page full of empty profes-sions to Mr. Morland. The event which it au-thorized soon followed: Henry and Cather-ine were married, the bells rang, and every-body smiled; and, as this took place within atwelvemonth from the first day of their meet-ing, it will not appear, after all the dread-ful delays occasioned by the general’s cruelty,that they were essentially hurt by it. To be-gin perfect happiness at the respective agesof twenty-six and eighteen is to do prettywell; and professing myself moreover con-vinced that the general’s unjust interference,so far from being really injurious to their fe-licity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, byimproving their knowledge of each other, andadding strength to their attachment, I leaveit to be settled, by whomsoever it may con-cern, whether the tendency of this work be al-together to recommend parental tyranny, orreward filial disobedience.

330 NORTHANGER ABBEY

A NOTE ON THETEXT

Northanger Abbey was written in 1797-98 un-der a different title. The manuscript was re-vised around 1803 and sold to a London pub-lisher, Crosbie & Co., who sold it back in 1816.The Signet Classic text is based on the firstedition, published by John Murray, London, in1818—the year following Miss Austen’s death.Spelling and punctuation have been largelybrought into conformity with modern Britishusage.

331