A few days passed away, and Catherine, though not
allowing herself to suspect her friend, could not help
watching her closely. The result of her observations
was not agreeable. Isabella seemed an altered creature.
When she saw her, indeed, surrounded only by their
immediate friends in Edgar's Buildings or Pulteney Street,
her change of manners was so trifling that, had it
gone no farther, it might have passed unnoticed.
A something of languid indifference, or of that boasted
absence of mind which Catherine had never heard of before,
would occasionally come across her; but had nothing
worse appeared, that might only have spread a new grace
and inspired a warmer interest. But when Catherine saw
her in public, admitting Captain Tilney's attentions
as readily as they were offered, and allowing him almost
an equal share with James in her notice and smiles,
the alteration became too positive to be passed over.
What could be meant by such unsteady conduct, what her
friend could be at, was beyond her comprehension.
Isabella could not be aware of the pain she was inflicting;
but it was a degree of wilful thoughtlessness which
Catherine could not but resent. James was the sufferer.
She saw him grave and uneasy; and however careless
of his present comfort the woman might be who had
given him her heart, to her it was always an object.
For poor Captain Tilney too she was greatly concerned.
Though his looks did not please her, his name was a passport
to her goodwill, and she thought with sincere compassion
of his approaching disappointment; for, in spite of what
she had believed herself to overbear in the pump-room,
his behaviour was so incompatible with a knowledge of
Isabella's engagement that she could not, upon reflection,
imagine him aware of it. He might be jealous of her
brother as a rival, but if more bad seemed implied,
the fault must have been in her misapprehension.
She wished, by a gentle remonstrance, to remind Isabella of
her situation, and make her aware of this double unkindness;
but for remonstrance, either opportunity or comprehension
was always against her. If able to suggest a hint,
Isabella could never understand it. In this distress,
the intended departure of the Tilney family became her
chief consolation; their journey into Gloucestershire
was to take place within a few days, and Captain Tilney's
removal would at least restore peace to every heart but
his own. But Captain Tilney had at present no intention
of removing; he was not to be of the party to Northanger;
he was to continue at Bath. When Catherine knew this,
her resolution was directly made. She spoke to Henry Tilney
on the subject, regretting his brother's evident partiality
for Miss Thorpe, and entreating him to make known her
prior engagement.
"My brother does know it," was Henry's answer.
"Does he? Then why does he stay here?"
He made no reply, and was beginning to talk
of something else; but she eagerly continued, "Why do
not you persuade him to go away? The longer he stays,
the worse it will be for him at last. Pray advise
him for his own sake, and for everybody's sake,
to leave Bath directly. Absence will in time make
him comfortable again; but he can have no hope here,
and it is only staying to be miserable." Henry smiled
and said, "I am sure my brother would not 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 persuade him. I have myself
told him that Miss Thorpe is engaged. He knows what he
is about, and must be his own master."
"No, he does not know what he is about," cried Catherine;
"he does not know the pain he is giving my brother.
Not that James has ever told me so, but I am sure he is
very uncomfortable."
"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?"
"I think Mr. Morland would acknowledge a difference.
No man is offended by another man's admiration of the
woman he loves; it is the woman only who can make it
a torment."
Catherine blushed for her friend, and said,
"Isabella is wrong. But I am sure she cannot mean
to torment, for she is very much attached to my brother.
She has been in love with him ever since they first met,
and while my father's consent was uncertain, she fretted
herself almost into a fever. You know she must be attached
to him."
"I understand: she is in love with James, and flirts
with Frederick."
"Oh! no, not flirts. A woman in love with one man
cannot flirt with another."
"It is probable that she will neither love so well,
nor flirt so well, as she might do either singly.
The gentlemen must each give up a little."
After a short pause, Catherine resumed with,
"Then you do not believe Isabella so very much 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 by his 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 expected 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 at."
"Well?"
"Well! Nay, if it is to be guesswork, let us all guess
for ourselves. To be guided by second-hand conjecture
is pitiful. The premises are before you. My brother is
a lively and perhaps sometimes a thoughtless young man;
he has had about a week's acquaintance with your friend,
and he has known her engagement almost as long as he has
known her."
"Well," said Catherine, after some moments' consideration,
"you may be able to guess at your brother's intentions from
all this; but I am sure I cannot. But is not your father
uncomfortable about it? Does not he want Captain Tilney
to go away? Sure, if your father were to speak to him,
he would go."
"My dear Miss Morland," said Henry, "in this amiable
solicitude for your brother's comfort, may you not be
a little mistaken? Are you not carried a little too far?
Would he thank you, either on his own account or Miss
Thorpe's, for supposing that her affection, or at least
her good behaviour, is only to be secured by her seeing
nothing of Captain Tilney? Is he safe only in solitude?
Or is her heart constant to him only when unsolicited
by anyone else? He cannot think this--and you may be sure
that he would not have you think it. I will not say,
'Do not be uneasy,' because I know that you are so,
at this moment; but be as little uneasy as you can.
You have no doubt of the mutual attachment of your brother
and your friend; depend upon it, therefore, that real
jealousy never can exist between them; depend upon it
that no disagreement between them can be of any duration.
Their hearts are open to each other, as neither heart can
be to you; they know exactly what is required and what can
be borne; and you may be certain that one will never tease
the other beyond what is known to be pleasant."
Perceiving her still to look doubtful and grave,
he added, "Though Frederick does not leave Bath with us,
he will probably remain but a very short time,
perhaps only a few days behind us. His leave of absence
will soon expire, and he must return to his regiment.
And what will then be their acquaintance? The mess-room
will drink Isabella Thorpe for a fortnight, and she will
laugh with your brother over poor Tilney's passion for
a month."
Catherine would contend no longer against comfort.
She had resisted its approaches during the whole length
of a speech, but it now carried her captive. Henry Tilney
must know best. She blamed herself for the extent
of her fears, and resolved never to think so seriously
on the subject again.
Her resolution was supported by Isabella's behaviour
in their parting interview. The Thorpes spent the last
evening of Catherine's stay in Pulteney Street, and nothing
passed between the lovers to excite her uneasiness,
or make her quit them in apprehension. James was in
excellent spirits, and Isabella most engagingly placid.
Her tenderness for her friend seemed rather the first feeling
of her heart; but that at such a moment was allowable;
and once she gave her lover a flat contradiction, and once
she drew back her hand; but Catherine remembered Henry's
instructions, and placed it all to judicious affection.
The embraces, tears, and promises of the parting fair
ones may be fancied.