Catherine's expectations of pleasure from her visit
in Milsom Street were so very high that disappointment
was inevitable; and accordingly, though she was most
politely received by General Tilney, and kindly welcomed
by his daughter, though Henry was at home, and no one else
of the party, she found, on her return, without spending
many hours in the examination of her feelings, that she
had gone to her appointment preparing for happiness which it
had not afforded. Instead of finding herself improved
in acquaintance with Miss Tilney, from the intercourse of
the day, she seemed hardly so intimate with her as before;
instead of seeing Henry Tilney to greater advantage
than ever, in the ease of a family party, he had never said
so little, nor been so little agreeable; and, in spite
of their father's great civilities to her--in spite
of his thanks, invitations, and compliments--it had been
a release to get away from him. It puzzled her to account
for all this. It could not be General Tilney's fault.
That he was perfectly agreeable and good-natured, and
altogether a very charming man, did not admit of a doubt,
for he was tall and handsome, and Henry's father.
He could not be accountable for his children's want
of spirits, or for her want of enjoyment in his company.
The former she hoped at last might have been accidental,
and the latter she could only attribute to her own stupidity.
Isabella, on hearing the particulars of the visit,
gave a different explanation: "It was all pride, pride,
insufferable haughtiness and pride! She had long suspected
the family to be very high, and this made it certain.
Such insolence of behaviour as Miss Tilney's she had
never heard of in her life! Not to do the honours of her
house with common good breeding! To behave to her guest
with such superciliousness! Hardly even to speak to her!"
"But it was not so bad as that, Isabella; there was
no superciliousness; she was very civil."
"Oh! Don't defend her! And then the brother, he,
who had appeared so attached to you! Good heavens! Well,
some people's feelings are incomprehensible. And so he
hardly looked once at you the whole day?"
"I do not say so; but he did not seem in good spirits."
"How contemptible! Of all things in the world inconstancy
is my aversion. Let me entreat you never to think
of him again, my dear Catherine; indeed he is unworthy of you."
"Unworthy! I do not suppose he ever thinks of me."
"That is exactly what I say; he never thinks
of you. Such fickleness! Oh! How different to your
brother and to mine! I really believe John has the most
constant heart."
"But as for General Tilney, I assure you it would
be impossible for anybody to behave to me with greater
civility and attention; it seemed to be his only care
to entertain and make me happy."
"Oh! I know no harm of him; I do not suspect him
of pride. I believe he is a very gentleman-like man.
John thinks very well of him, and John's judgment--"
"Well, I shall see how they behave to me this evening;
we shall meet them at the rooms."
"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 insist upon my being very agreeable,
for my heart, you know, will be some forty miles off.
And as for dancing, do not mention it, I beg; that is
quite out of the question. Charles Hodges will plague me
to death, I dare say; but I shall cut him very short.
Ten to one but he guesses the reason, and that is exactly
what I want to avoid, so I shall insist on his keeping his
conjecture to himself."
Isabella's opinion of the Tilneys did not influence
her friend; she was sure there had been no insolence
in the manners either of brother or sister; and she
did not credit there being any pride in their hearts.
The evening rewarded her confidence; she was met by one with
the same kindness, and by the other with the same attention,
as heretofore: Miss Tilney took pains to be near her,
and Henry asked her to dance.
Having heard the day before in Milsom Street
that their elder brother, Captain Tilney, was expected
almost every hour, she was at no loss for the name of a
very fashionable-looking, handsome young man, whom she
had never seen before, and who now evidently belonged
to their party. She looked at him with great admiration,
and even supposed it possible that some people might think
him handsomer than his brother, though, in her eyes,
his air was more assuming, and his countenance
less prepossessing. His taste and manners were beyond
a doubt decidedly inferior; for, within her hearing, he not
only protested against every thought of dancing himself,
but even laughed openly at Henry for finding it possible.
From the latter circumstance it may be presumed that,
whatever might be our heroine's opinion of him,
his admiration of her was not of a very dangerous kind;
not likely to produce animosities between the brothers,
nor persecutions to the lady. He cannot be the instigator
of the three villains in horsemen's greatcoats, by whom
she will hereafter be forced into a traveling-chaise
and four, which will drive off with incredible speed.
Catherine, meanwhile, undisturbed by presentiments
of such an evil, or of any evil at all, except that of
having but a short set to dance down, enjoyed her usual
happiness with Henry Tilney, listening with sparkling eyes
to everything he said; and, in finding him irresistible,
becoming so herself.
At the end of the first dance, Captain Tilney came
towards them again, and, much to Catherine's dissatisfaction,
pulled his brother away. They retired whispering together;
and, though her delicate sensibility did not take immediate alarm,
and lay it down as fact, that Captain Tilney must have
heard some malevolent misrepresentation of her, which he
now hastened to communicate to his brother, in the hope
of separating them forever, she could not have her partner
conveyed from her sight without very uneasy sensations.
Her suspense was of full five minutes' duration; and she
was beginning to think it a very long quarter of an hour,
when they both returned, and an explanation was given,
by Henry's requesting to know if she thought her friend,
Miss Thorpe, would have any objection to dancing,
as his brother would be most happy to be introduced
to her. Catherine, without hesitation, replied that she
was very sure Miss Thorpe did not mean to dance at all.
The cruel reply was passed on to the other, and he
immediately walked away.
"Your brother will not mind it, I know," said she,
"because I heard him say before that he hated dancing;
but it was very good-natured in him to think of it.
I suppose he saw Isabella sitting down, and fancied she
might wish for a partner; but he is quite mistaken,
for she would not dance upon any account in the world."
Henry smiled, and said, "How very little trouble it can
give you to understand the motive of other people's actions."
"Why? What do you mean?"
"With you, it is not, How is such a one likely to
be influenced, What is the inducement most likely to act
upon such a person's feelings, age, situation, and probable
habits of life considered--but, How should I be influenced,
What would be my inducement in acting 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 language."
"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 embarrassment, and certainly bring
on a disagreement between us.
"No, no; it shall not do either; I am not afraid."
"Well, then, I only meant that your attributing my
brother's wish of dancing with Miss Thorpe to good nature
alone convinced me of your being superior in good nature
yourself to all the rest of the world."
Catherine blushed and disclaimed, and the gentleman's
predictions were verified. There was a something, however,
in his words which repaid her for the pain of confusion;
and that something occupied her mind so much that she drew
back for some time, forgetting to speak or to listen,
and almost forgetting where she was; till, roused by the
voice of Isabella, she looked up and saw her with Captain
Tilney preparing to give them hands across.
Isabella shrugged her shoulders and smiled, the only
explanation of this extraordinary change which could
at that time be given; but as it was not quite enough
for Catherine's comprehension, she spoke her astonishment
in very plain terms to her partner.
"I cannot think how it could happen! Isabella was
so determined not to dance."
"And did Isabella never change her mind before?"
"Oh! But, because-- And your brother! After what you
told him from me, how could he think of going to ask her?"
"I cannot take surprise to myself on that head.
You bid me be surprised on your friend's account,
and therefore I am; but as for my brother, his conduct
in the business, I must own, has been no more than I
believed him perfectly equal to. The fairness of your
friend was an open attraction; her firmness, you know,
could only be understood by yourself."
"You are laughing; but, I assure you, Isabella is
very firm in general."
"It is as much as should be said of anyone. To be
always firm must be to be often obstinate. When properly
to relax is the trial of judgment; and, without reference
to my brother, I really think Miss Thorpe has by no means
chosen ill in fixing on the present hour."
The friends were not able to get together for any
confidential discourse till all the dancing was over;
but then, as they walked about the room arm in arm,
Isabella thus explained herself: "I do not wonder at
your surprise; and I am really fatigued to death. He is such
a rattle! Amusing enough, if my mind had been disengaged;
but I would have given the world to sit still."
"Then why did not you?"
"Oh! My dear! It would have looked so particular;
and you know how I abhor doing that. I refused him as
long as I possibly could, but he would take no denial.
You have no idea how he pressed me. I begged him to
excuse me, and get some other partner--but no, not he;
after aspiring to my hand, there was nobody else in the
room he could bear to think of; and it was not that he
wanted merely to dance, he wanted to be with me.
Oh! Such nonsense! I told him he had taken a very unlikely
way to prevail upon me; for, of all things in the world,
I hated fine speeches and compliments; and so--and so then
I found there would be no peace if I did not stand up.
Besides, I thought Mrs. Hughes, who introduced him,
might take it ill if I did not: and your dear brother,
I am sure he would have been miserable if I had sat down
the whole evening. I am so glad it is over! My spirits
are quite jaded with listening to his nonsense: and then,
being such a smart young 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; but he is not at all in my
style of beauty. I hate a florid complexion and dark eyes
in a man. However, he is very well. Amazingly conceited,
I am sure. I took him down several times, you know,
in my way."
When the young ladies next met, they had a far
more interesting subject to discuss. James Morland's
second letter was then received, and the kind intentions
of his father fully explained. A living, of which
Mr. Morland was himself patron and incumbent, of about
four hundred pounds yearly value, was to be resigned
to his son as soon as he should be old enough to take it;
no trifling deduction from the family income, no niggardly
assignment to one of ten children. An estate of at least
equal value, moreover, was assured as his future inheritance.
James expressed himself on the occasion with
becoming gratitude; and the necessity of waiting between
two and three years before they could marry, being,
however unwelcome, no more than he had expected, was borne
by him without discontent. Catherine, whose expectations
had been as unfixed as her ideas of her father's income,
and whose judgment was now entirely led by her brother,
felt equally well satisfied, and heartily congratulated
Isabella on having everything so pleasantly settled.
"It is very charming indeed," said Isabella,
with a grave face. "Mr. Morland has behaved vastly
handsome indeed," said the gentle Mrs. Thorpe,
looking anxiously at her daughter. "I only wish I could
do as much. One could not expect more from him, you know.
If he finds he can do more by and by, I dare say he will,
for I am sure he must be an excellent good-hearted man.
Four hundred is but a small income to begin on indeed,
but your wishes, my dear Isabella, are so moderate, you do
not consider how little you ever want, my dear."
"It is not on my own account I wish for more; but I
cannot bear to be the means of injuring my dear Morland,
making him sit down upon an income hardly enough to find
one in the common necessaries of life. For myself,
it is nothing; I never think of myself."
"I know you never do, my dear; and you will always
find your reward in the affection it makes everybody
feel for you. There never was a young woman so beloved
as you are by everybody that knows you; and I dare say
when Mr. Morland sees you, my dear child--but do not let
us distress our dear Catherine by talking of such things.
Mr. Morland has behaved so very handsome, you know.
I always heard he was a most excellent man; and you know,
my dear, we are not to suppose but what, if you had had a
suitable fortune, he would have come down with something more,
for I am sure he must be a most liberal-minded man."
"Nobody can think better of Mr. Morland than I do,
I am sure. But everybody has their failing, you know,
and everybody has a right to do what they like with their
own money." Catherine was hurt by these insinuations.
"I am very sure," said she, "that my father has promised
to do as much as he can afford."
Isabella recollected herself. "As to that,
my sweet Catherine, there cannot be a doubt, and you know
me well enough to be sure that a much smaller income would
satisfy me. It is not the want of more money that makes
me just at present a little out of spirits; I hate money;
and if our union could take place now upon only fifty
pounds a year, I should not have a wish unsatisfied.
Ah! my Catherine, you have found me out. There's the sting.
The long, long, endless two years and half that are to pass
before your brother can hold the living."
"Yes, yes, my darling Isabella," said Mrs. Thorpe,
"we perfectly see into your heart. You have no disguise.
We perfectly understand the present vexation; and everybody
must love you the better for such a noble honest affection."
Catherine's uncomfortable feelings began to lessen.
She endeavoured to believe that the delay of the marriage
was the only source of Isabella's regret; and when she
saw her at their next interview as cheerful and amiable
as ever, endeavoured to forget that she had for a minute
thought otherwise. James soon followed his letter,
and was received with the most gratifying kindness.