Chapter 13

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday have

now passed in review before the reader; the events of each day, its hopes and fears, m ortifications and pleasures, have been separately stated, and the pangs of Sunday only now rem ain to be described, and close the week. The Clifton schem e had been deferred, not relinquished, and on the afternoon’s crescent of this day, it was brought forward again. In a private consultation between Isabella and Jam es, the form er of whom had particularly set her heart upon going, and the latter no less anxiously placed his upon pleasing her, it was agreed that, provided the weather were fair, the party should take place on the following m orning; and they were to set off very early, in order to be at hom e in good tim e. The affair thus determ ined, and Thorpe’s approbation secured, Catherine only rem ained to be apprised of it. She had left them for a few m inutes to speak to Miss Tilney. In that interval the plan was com pleted, and as soon as she cam e again, her agreem ent was dem anded; but instead of the gay acquiescence expected by Isabella, Catherine looked grave, was very sorry, but could not go. The engagem ent which ought to have kept her from j oining in the form er attem pt would m ake it im possible for her to accom pany them now. She had that m om ent settled with Miss Tilney to take their proposed walk tom orrow; it was quite determ ined, and she would not, upon any account, retract. But that she m ust and should retract was instantly the eager cry of both the Thorpes; they m ust go to Clifton tom orrow, they would not go without her, it would be nothing to put off a m ere walk for one day longer, and they would not hear of a refusal. Catherine was distressed, but not subdued. “Do not urge m e, Isabella. I am engaged to Miss Tilney. I cannot go.” This availed nothing. The sam e argum ents assailed her again; she m ust go, she should go, and they would not hear of a refusal. “It would be so easy to tell Miss Tilney that y ou had j ust been rem inded of a prior engagem ent, and m ust only beg to put off the walk till Tuesday.”

“No, it would not be easy. I could not do it. There has been no prior

engagem ent.” But Isabella becam e only m ore and m ore urgent, calling on her in the m ost affectionate m anner, addressing her by the m ost endearing nam es. She was sure her dearest, sweetest Catherine would not seriously refuse such a trifling request to a friend who loved her so dearly. She knew her beloved Catherine to have so feeling a heart, so sweet a tem per, to be so easily persuaded by those she loved. But all in vain; Catherine felt herself to be in the right, and though pained by such tender, such flattering supplication, could not allow it to influence her. Isabella then tried another m ethod. She reproached her with having m ore affection for Miss Tilney, though she had known her so little a while, than for her best and oldest friends, with being grown cold and indifferent, in short, towards herself. “I cannot help being j ealous, Catherine, when I see m y self slighted for strangers, I, who love y ou so excessively ! When once m y affections are placed, it is not in the power of any thing to change them . But I believe m y feelings are stronger than any body ’s; I am sure they are too strong for m y own peace; and to see m y self supplanted in y our friendship by strangers does cut m e to the quick, I own. These Tilney s seem to swallow up every thing else.”

Catherine thought this reproach equally strange and unkind. Was it the

part of a friend thus to expose her feelings to the notice of others? Isabella appeared to her ungenerous and selfish, regardless of every thing but her own gratification. These painful ideas crossed her m ind, though she said nothing. Isabella, in the m eanwhile, had applied her handkerchief to her ey es; and Morland, m iserable at such a sight, could not help say ing, “Nay, Catherine. I think y ou cannot stand out any longer now. The sacrifice is not m uch; and to oblige such a friend – I shall think y ou quite unkind, if y ou still refuse.”

This was the first tim e of her brother’s openly siding against her, and

anxious to avoid his displeasure, she proposed a com prom ise. If they would only put off their schem e till Tuesday, which they m ight easily do, as it depended only on them selves, she could go with them , and every body m ight then be satisfied. But “No, no, no!” was the im m ediate answer; “that could not be, for Thorpe did not know that he m ight not go to town on Tuesday.” Catherine was sorry, but could do no m ore; and a short silence ensued, which was broken by Isabella, who in a voice of cold resentm ent said, “Very well, then there is an end of the party. If Catherine does not go, I cannot. I cannot be the only wom an. I would not, upon any account in the world, do so im proper a thing.”

“Catherine, y ou m ust go,” said Jam es.

“But why cannot Mr. Thorpe drive one of his other sisters? I dare say

either of them would like to go.”

“Thank y e,” cried Thorpe, “but I did not com e to Bath to drive m y

sisters about, and look like a fool. No, if y ou do not go, d... m e if I do. I only go for the sake of driving y ou.”

“That is a com plim ent which gives m e no pleasure.” But her words

were lost on Thorpe, who had turned abruptly away.

The three others still continued together, walking in a m ost

uncom fortable m anner to poor Catherine; som etim es not a word was said, som etim es she was again attacked with supplications or reproaches, and her arm was still linked within Isabella’s, though their hearts were at war. At one m om ent she was softened, at another irritated; alway s distressed, but alway s steady.

“I did not think y ou had been so obstinate, Catherine,” said Jam es; “y ou

were not used to be so hard to persuade; y ou once were the kindest, best-tem pered of m y sisters.”

“I hope I am not less so now,” she replied, very feelingly ; “but indeed I

cannot go. If I am wrong, 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 away her arm , and Isabella m ade

no opposition. Thus passed a long ten m inutes, till they were again j oined by Thorpe, who, com ing to them with a gay er look, said, “Well, I have settled the m atter, and now we m ay all go tom orrow with a safe conscience. I have been to Miss Tilney, and m ade y our excuses.”

“You have not!” cried Catherine.

“I have, upon m y soul. Left her this m om ent. Told her y ou had sent m e

to say that, having j ust recollected a prior engagem ent of going to Clifton with us tom orrow, y ou could not have the pleasure of walking with her till Tuesday. She said very well, Tuesday was j ust as convenient to her; so there is an end of all our difficulties. A pretty good thought of m ine – hey ?”

Isabella’s countenance was once m ore all sm iles and good hum our, and

Jam es too looked happy again.

“A m ost heavenly thought indeed! Now, m y sweet Catherine, all our

distresses are over; y ou are honourably acquitted, and we shall have a m ost delightful party.”

“This will not do,” said Catherine; “I cannot subm it to this. I m ust run

after Miss Tilney directly and set her right.”

Isabella, however, caught hold of one hand, Thorpe of the other, and

rem onstrances poured in from all three. Even Jam es was quite angry. When every thing was settled, when Miss Tilney herself said that Tuesday would suit her as well, it was quite ridiculous, quite absurd, to m ake any further obj ection.

“I do not care. Mr. Thorpe had no business to invent any such m essage.

If I had thought it right to put it off, I could have spoken to Miss Tilney m y self. This is only doing it in a ruder way ; and how do I know that Mr. Thorpe has – He m ay be m istaken again perhaps; he led m e into one act of rudeness by his m istake on Friday. Let m e go, Mr. Thorpe; Isabella, do not hold m e.”

Thorpe told her it would be in vain to go after the Tilney s; they were

turning the corner into Brock Street, when he had overtaken them , and were at hom e by this tim e.

“Then I will go after them ,” said Catherine; “wherever they are I will

go after them . It does not signify talking. If I could not be persuaded into doing what I thought wrong, I never will be tricked into it.” And with these words she broke away and hurried off. Thorpe would have darted after her, but Morland withheld him . “Let her go, let her go, if she will go. She is as obstinate as...”

Thorpe never finished the sim ile, for it could hardly have been a proper

one.

Away walked Catherine in great agitation, as fast as the crowd would

perm it her, fearful of being pursued, y et determ ined to persevere. As she walked, she reflected on what had passed. It was painful to her to disappoint and displease them , particularly to displease her brother; but she could not repent her resistance. Setting her own inclination apart, to have failed a second tim e in her engagem ent to Miss Tilney, to have retracted a prom ise voluntarily m ade only five m inutes before, and on a false pretence too, m ust have been wrong. She had not been withstanding them on selfish principles alone, she had not consulted m erely her own gratification; that m ight have been ensured in som e degree by the excursion itself, by seeing Blaize Castle; no, she had attended to what was due to others, and to her own character in their opinion. Her conviction of being right, however, was not enough to restore her com posure; till she had spoken to Miss Tilney she could not be at ease; and quickening her pace when she got clear of the Crescent, she alm ost ran over the rem aining ground till she gained the top of Milsom Street. So rapid had been her m ovem ents that in spite of the Tilney s’ advantage in the outset, they were but j ust turning into their lodgings as she cam e within view of them ; and the servant still rem aining at the open door, she used only the cerem ony of say ing that she m ust speak with Miss Tilney that m om ent, and hurry ing by him proceeded upstairs. Then, opening the first door before her, which happened to be the right, she im m ediately found herself in the drawing-room with General Tilney, his son, and daughter. Her explanation, defective only in being – from her irritation of nerves and shortness of breath – no explanation at all, was instantly given. “I am com e in a great hurry – It was all a m istake – I never prom ised to go – I told them from the first I could not go. – I ran away in a great hurry to explain it. – I did not care what y ou thought of m e. – I would not stay for the servant.”

The business, however, though not perfectly elucidated by this speech,

soon ceased to be a puzzle. Catherine found that John Thorpe had given the m essage; and Miss Tilney had no scruple in owning herself greatly surprised by it. But whether her brother had still exceeded her in resentm ent, Catherine, though she instinctively addressed herself as m uch to one as to the other in her vindication, had no m eans of knowing. Whatever m ight have been felt before her arrival, her eager declarations im m ediately m ade every look and sentence as friendly as she could desire.

The affair thus happily settled, she was introduced by Miss Tilney to

her father, and received by him with such ready, such solicitous politeness as recalled Thorpe’s inform ation to her m ind, and m ade her think with pleasure that he m ight be som etim es depended on. To such anxious attention was the general’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartm ent herself. “What did William m ean by it? He should m ake a point of inquiring into the m atter.” And if Catherine had not m ost warm ly asserted his innocence, it seem ed likely that William would lose the favour of his m aster forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

After sitting with them a quarter of an hour, she rose to take leave, and

was then m ost agreeably surprised by General Tilney ’s asking her if she would do his daughter the honour of dining and spending the rest of the day with her. Miss Tilney added her own wishes. Catherine was greatly obliged; but it was quite out of her power. Mr. and Mrs. Allen would expect her back every m om ent. The general declared he could say no m ore; the claim s of Mr. and Mrs. Allen were not to be superseded; but on som e other day he trusted, when longer notice could be given, they would not refuse to spare her to her friend. “Oh, no; Catherine was sure they would not have the least obj ection, and she should have great pleasure in com ing.” The general attended her him self to the street-door, say ing every thing gallant as they went downstairs, adm iring the elasticity of her walk, which corresponded exactly with the spirit of her dancing, and m aking her one of the m ost graceful bows she had ever beheld, when they parted.

Catherine, delighted by all that had passed, proceeded gaily to Pulteney

Street, walking, as she concluded, with great elasticity, though she had never thought of it before. She reached hom e without seeing any thing m ore of the offended party ; and now that she had been trium phant throughout, had carried her point, and was secure of her walk, she began (as the flutter of her spirits subsided) to doubt whether she had been perfectly right. A sacrifice was alway s noble; and if she had given way to their entreaties, she should have been spared the distressing idea of a friend displeased, a brother angry, and a schem e of great happiness to both destroy ed, perhaps through her m eans. To ease her m ind, and ascertain by the opinion of an unprej udiced person what her own conduct had really been, she took occasion to m ention before Mr. Allen the half-settled schem e of her brother and the Thorpes for the following day. Mr. Allen caught at it directly. “Well,” said he, “and do y ou think of going too?”

“No; I had j ust engaged m y self to walk with Miss Tilney before they

told m e of it; and therefore y ou know I could not go with them , could I?”

“No, certainly not; and I am glad y ou do not think of it. These schem es

are not at all the thing. Young m en and wom en driving about the country in open carriages! Now and then it is very well; but going to inns and public places together! It is not right; and I wonder Mrs. Thorpe should allow it. I am glad y ou do not think of going; I am sure Mrs. Morland would not be pleased. Mrs. Allen, are not y ou of m y way of thinking? Do not y ou think these kind of proj ects obj ectionable?”

“Yes, very m uch so indeed. Open carriages are nasty things. A clean

gown is not five m inutes’ wear in them . You are splashed getting in and getting out; and the wind takes y our hair and y our bonnet in every direction. I hate an open carriage m y self.”

“I know y ou do; but that is not the question. Do not y ou think it has an

odd appearance, if y oung ladies are frequently driven about in them by y oung m en, to whom they are not even related?”

“Yes, m y dear, a very odd appearance indeed. I cannot bear to see it.”

“Dear m adam ,” cried Catherine, “then why did not y ou tell m e so

before? I am sure if I had known it to be im proper, I would not have gone with Mr. Thorpe at all; but I alway s hoped y ou would tell m e, if y ou thought I was doing wrong.”

“And so I should, m y dear, y ou m ay depend on it; for as I told Mrs.

Morland at parting, I would alway s do the best for y ou in m y power. But one m ust not be over particular. Young people will be y oung people, as y our good m other say s herself. You know I wanted y ou, when we first cam e, not to buy that sprigged m uslin, but y ou would. Young people do not like to be alway s thwarted.”

“But this was som ething of real consequence; and I do not think y ou

would have found m e hard to persuade.”

“As far as it has gone hitherto, there is no harm done,” said Mr. Allen;

“and I would only advise y ou, m y dear, not to go out with Mr. Thorpe any m ore.”

“That is j ust what I was going to say,” added his wife. Catherine, relieved for herself, felt uneasy for Isabella, and after a

m om ent’s thought, asked Mr. Allen whether it would not be both proper and kind in her to write to Miss Thorpe, and explain the indecorum of which she m ust be as insensible as herself; for she considered that Isabella m ight otherwise perhaps be going to Clifton the next day, in spite of what had passed. Mr. Allen, however, discouraged her from doing any such thing. “You had better leave her alone, m y dear; she is old enough to know what she is about, and if not, has a m other to advise her. Mrs. Thorpe is too indulgent bey ond a doubt; but, however, y ou had better not interfere. She and y our brother choose to go, and y ou will be only getting ill will.”

Catherine subm itted, and though sorry to think that Isabella should be

doing wrong, felt greatly relieved by Mr. Allen’s approbation of her own conduct, and truly rej oiced to be preserved by his advice from the danger of falling into such an error herself. Her escape from being one of the party to Clifton was now an escape indeed; for what would the Tilney s have thought of her, if she had broken her prom ise to them in order to do what was wrong in itself, if she had been guilty of one breach of propriety, only to enable her to be guilty of another?