Chapter 15

Early the next day, a note from Isabella, speaking peace and tenderness

in every line, and entreating the im m ediate presence of her friend on a m atter of the utm ost im portance, hastened Catherine, in the happiest state of confidence and curiosity, to Edgar’s Buildings. The two y oungest Miss Thorpes were by them selves in the parlour; and, on Anne’s quitting it to call her sister, Catherine took the opportunity of asking the other for som e particulars of their y esterday ’s party. Maria desired no greater pleasure than to speak of it; and Catherine im m ediately learnt that it had been altogether the m ost delightful schem e in the world, that nobody could im agine how charm ing it had been, and that it had been m ore delightful than any body could conceive. Such was the inform ation of the first five m inutes; the second unfolded thus m uch in detail – that they had driven directly to the York Hotel, ate som e soup, and bespoke an early dinner, walked down to the pum p-room , tasted the water, and laid out som e shillings in purses and spars; thence adj oined to eat ice at a pastry -cook’s, and hurry ing back to the hotel, swallowed their dinner in haste, to prevent being in the dark; and then had a delightful drive back, only the m oon was not up, and it rained a little, and Mr. Morland’s horse was so tired he could hardly get it along.

Catherine listened with heartfelt satisfaction. It appeared that Blaize

Castle had never been thought of; and, as for all the rest, there was nothing to regret for half an instant. Maria’s intelligence concluded with a tender effusion of pity for her sister Anne, whom she represented as insupportably cross, from being excluded the party.

“She will never forgive m e, I am sure; but, y ou know, how could I help

it? John would have m e go, for he vowed he would not drive her, because she had such thick ankles. I dare say she will not be in good hum our again this m onth; but I am determ ined I will not be cross; it is not a little m atter that puts m e out of tem per.”

Isabella now entered the room with so eager a step, and a look of such

happy im portance, as engaged all her friend’s notice. Maria was without cerem ony sent away, and Isabella, em bracing Catherine, thus began: “Yes, m y dear Catherine, it is so indeed; y our penetration has not deceived y ou. Oh! That arch ey e of y ours! It sees through every thing.”

Catherine replied only by a look of wondering ignorance. “Nay, m y beloved, sweetest friend,” continued the other, “com pose

y ourself. I am am azingly agitated, as y ou perceive. Let us sit down and talk in com fort. Well, and so y ou guessed it the m om ent y ou had m y note? Sly creature! Oh! My dear Catherine, y ou alone, who know m y heart, can j udge of m y present happiness. Your brother is the m ost charm ing of m en. I only wish I were m ore worthy of him . But what will y our excellent father and m other say ? Oh! Heavens! When I think of them I am so agitated!”

Catherine’s understanding began to awake: an idea of the truth suddenly

darted into her m ind; and, with the natural blush of so new an em otion, she cried out, “Good heaven! My dear Isabella, what do y ou m ean? Can y ou – can y ou really be in love with Jam es?”

This bold surm ise, however, she soon learnt com prehended but half the

fact. The anxious affection, which she was accused of having continually watched in Isabella’s every look and action, had, in the course of their y esterday ’s party, received the delightful confession of an equal love. Her heart and faith were alike engaged to Jam es. Never had Catherine listened to any thing so full of interest, wonder, and j oy. Her brother and her friend engaged! New to such circum stances, the im portance of it appeared unspeakably great, and she contem plated it as one of those grand events, of which the ordinary course of life can hardly afford a return. The strength of her feelings she could not express; the nature of them , however, contented her friend. The happiness of having such a sister was their first effusion, and the fair ladies m ingled in em braces and tears of j oy.

Delighting, however, as Catherine sincerely did in the prospect of the

connection, it m ust be acknowledged that Isabella far surpassed her in tender anticipations. “You will be so infinitely dearer to m e, m y Catherine, than either Anne or Maria: I feel that I shall be so m uch m ore attached to m y dear Morland’s fam ily than to m y own.”

This was a pitch of friendship bey ond Catherine. “You are so like y our dear brother,” continued Isabella, “that I quite

doted on y ou the first m om ent I saw y ou. But so it alway s is with m e; the first m om ent settles every thing. The very first day that Morland cam e to us last Christm as – the very first m om ent I beheld him – m y heart was irrecoverably gone. I rem em ber I wore m y y ellow gown, with m y hair done up in braids; and when I cam e into the drawing-room , and John introduced him , I thought I never saw any body so handsom e before.”

Here Catherine secretly acknowledged the power of love; for, though

exceedingly fond of her brother, and partial to all his endowm ents, she had never in her life thought him handsom e.

“I rem em ber too, Miss Andrews drank tea with us that evening, and

wore her puce-coloured sarsenet; and she looked so heavenly that I thought y our brother m ust certainly fall in love with her; I could not sleep a wink all right for thinking of it. Oh! Catherine, the m any sleepless nights I have had on y our brother’s account! I would not have y ou suffer half what I have done! I am grown wretchedly thin, I know; but I will not pain y ou by describing m y anxiety ; y ou have seen enough of it. I feel that I have betray ed m y self perpetually – so unguarded in speaking of m y partiality for the church! But m y secret I was alway s sure would be safe with y ou.”

Catherine felt that nothing could have been safer; but asham ed of an

ignorance little expected, she dared no longer contest the point, nor refuse to have been as full of arch penetration and affectionate sy m pathy as Isabella chose to consider her. Her brother, she found, was preparing to set off with all speed to Fullerton, to m ake known his situation and ask consent; and here was a source of som e real agitation to the m ind of Isabella. Catherine endeavoured to persuade her, as she was herself persuaded, that her father and m other would never oppose their son’s wishes. “It is im possible,” said she, “for parents to be m ore kind, or m ore desirous of their children’s happiness; I have no doubt of their consenting im m ediately.”

“Morland say s exactly the sam e,” replied Isabella; “and y et I dare not

expect it; m y fortune will be so sm all; they never can consent to it. Your brother, who m ight m arry any body !”

Here Catherine again discerned the force of love. “Indeed, Isabella, y ou are too hum ble. The difference of fortune can

be nothing to signify.”

“Oh! My sweet Catherine, in y our generous heart I know it would

signify nothing; but we m ust not expect such disinterestedness in m any. As for m y self, I am sure I only wish our situations were reversed. Had I the com m and of m illions, were I m istress of the whole world, y our brother would be m y only choice.”

This charm ing sentim ent, recom -m ended as m uch by sense as novelty,

gave Catherine a m ost pleasing rem em brance of all the heroines of her acquaintance; and she thought her friend never looked m ore lovely than in uttering the grand idea. “I am sure they will consent,” was her frequent declaration; “I am sure they will be delighted with y ou.”

“For m y own part,” said Isabella, “m y wishes are so m oderate that the

sm allest incom e in nature would be enough for m e. Where people are really attached, poverty itself is wealth; grandeur I detest: I would not settle in London for the universe. A cottage in som e retired village would be ecstasy. There are som e charm ing little villas about Richm ond.”

“Richm ond!” cried Catherine. “You m ust settle near Fullerton. You

m ust be near us.”

“I am sure I shall be m iserable if we do not. If I can but be near y ou, I

shall be satisfied. But this is idle talking! I will not allow m y self to think of such things, till we have y our father’s answer. Morland say s that by sending it tonight to Salisbury, we m ay have it tom orrow. Tom orrow? I know I shall never have courage to open the letter. I know it will be the death of m e.”

A reverie succeeded this conviction – and when Isabella spoke again, it

was to resolve on the quality of her wedding-gown.

Their conference was put an end to by the anxious y oung lover him self,

who cam e to breathe his parting sigh before he set off for Wiltshire. Catherine wished to congratulate him , but knew not what to say, and her eloquence was only in her ey es. From them , however, the eight parts of speech shone out m ost expressively, and Jam es could com bine them with ease. Im patient for the realization of all that he hoped at hom e, his adieus were not long; and they would have been y et shorter, had he not been frequently detained by the urgent entreaties of his fair one that he would go. Twice was he called alm ost from the door by her eagerness to have him gone. “Indeed, Morland, I m ust drive y ou away. Consider how far y ou have to ride. I cannot bear to see y ou linger so. For heaven’s sake, waste no m ore tim e. There, go, go – I insist on it.”

The two friends, with hearts now m ore united than ever, were

inseparable for the day ; and in schem es of sisterly happiness the hours flew along. Mrs. Thorpe and her son, who were acquainted with every thing, and who seem ed only to want Mr. Morland’s consent, to consider Isabella’s engagem ent as the m ost fortunate circum stance im aginable for their fam ily, were allowed to j oin their counsels, and add their quota of significant looks and m y sterious expressions to fill up the m easure of curiosity to be raised in the unprivileged y ounger sisters. To Catherine’s sim ple feelings, this odd sort of reserve seem ed neither kindly m eant, nor consistently supported; and its unkindness she would hardly have forborne pointing out, had its inconsistency been less their friend; but Anne and Maria soon set her heart at ease by the sagacity of their “I know what”; and the evening was spent in a sort of war of wit, a display of fam ily ingenuity, on one side in the m y stery of an affected secret, on the other of undefined discovery, all equally acute.

Catherine was with her friend again the next day, endeavouring to

support her spirits and while away the m any tedious hours before the delivery of the letters; a needful exertion, for as the tim e of reasonable expectation drew near, Isabella becam e m ore and m ore desponding, and before the letter arrived, had worked herself into a state of real distress. But when it did com e, where could distress be found? “I have had no difficulty in gaining the consent of m y kind parents, and am prom ised that every thing in their power shall be done to forward m y happiness,” were the first three lines, and in one m om ent all was j oy ful security. The brightest glow was instantly spread over Isabella’s features, all care and anxiety seem ed rem oved, her spirits becam e alm ost too high for control, and she called herself without scruple the happiest of m ortals.

Mrs. Thorpe, with tears of j oy, em braced her daughter, her son, her

visitor, and could have em braced half the inhabitants of Bath with satisfaction. Her heart was overflowing with tenderness. It was “dear John” and “dear Catherine” at every word; “dear Anne and dear Maria” m ust im m ediately be m ade sharers in their felicity ; and two “dears” at once before the nam e of Isabella were not m ore than that beloved child had now well earned. John him self was no skulker in j oy. He not only bestowed on Mr. Morland the high com m endation of being one of the finest fellows in the world, but swore off m any sentences in his praise.

The letter, whence sprang all this felicity, was short, containing little

m ore than this assurance of success; and every particular was deferred till Jam es could write again. But for particulars Isabella could well afford to wait. The needful was com prised in Mr. Morland’s prom ise; his honour was pledged to m ake every thing easy ; and by what m eans their incom e was to be form ed, whether landed property were to be resigned, or funded m oney m ade over, was a m atter in which her disinterested spirit took no concern. She knew enough to feel secure of an honourable and speedy establishm ent, and her im agination took a rapid flight over its attendant felicities. She saw herself at the end of a few weeks, the gaze and adm iration of every new acquaintance at Fullerton, the envy of every valued old friend in Putney, with a carriage at her com m and, a new nam e on her tickets, and a brilliant exhibition of hoop rings on her finger.

When the contents of the letter were ascertained, John Thorpe, who had

only waited its arrival to begin his j ourney to London, prepared to set off. “Well, Miss Morland,” said he, on finding her alone in the parlour, “I am com e to bid y ou good-by e.” Catherine wished him a good j ourney. Without appearing to hear her, he walked to the window, fidgeted about, hum m ed a tune, and seem ed wholly self-occupied.

“Shall not y ou be late at Devizes?” said Catherine. He m ade no answer;

but after a m inute’s silence burst out with, “A fam ous good thing this m arry ing schem e, upon m y soul! A clever fancy of Morland’s and Belle’s. What do y ou think of it, Miss Morland? I say it is no bad notion.”

“I am sure I think it a very good one.”

“Do y ou? That’s honest, by heavens! I am glad y ou are no enem y to

m atrim ony, however. Did y ou ever hear the old song ‘Going to One Wedding Brings on Another?’ I say, y ou will com e to Belle’s wedding, I hope.”

“Yes; I have prom ised y our sister to be with her, if possible.”

“And then y ou know” – twisting him self about and forcing a foolish

laugh – “I say, then y ou know, we m ay try the truth of this sam e old song.”

“May we? But I never sing. Well, I wish y ou a good j ourney. I dine with

Miss Tilney today, and m ust now be going hom e.”

“Nay, but there is no such confounded hurry. Who knows when we m ay

be together again? Not but that I shall be down again by the end of a fortnight, and a devilish long fortnight it will appear to m e.”

“Then why do y ou stay away so long?” replied Catherine – finding that

he waited for an answer.

“That is kind of y ou, however – kind and good-natured. I shall not forget it in a hurry. But y ou have m ore good nature and all that, than any body living, I believe. A m onstrous deal of good nature, and it is not only good nature, but y ou have so m uch, so m uch of every thing; and then y ou have such – upon m y soul, I do not know any body like y ou.”

“Oh! dear, there are a great m any people like m e, I dare say, only a

great deal better. Good m orning to y ou.”

“But I say, Miss Morland, I shall com e and pay m y respects at Fullerton

before it is long, if not disagreeable.”

“Pray do. My father and m other will be very glad to see y ou.”

“And I hope – I hope, Miss Morland, y ou will not be sorry to see m e.”

“Oh! dear, not at all. There are very few people I am sorry to see.

Com pany is alway s cheerful.”

“That is j ust m y way of thinking. Give m e but a little cheerful

com pany, let m e only have the com pany of the people I love, let m e only be where I like and with whom I like, and the devil take the rest, say I. And I am heartily glad to hear y ou say the sam e. But I have a notion, Miss Morland, y ou and I think pretty m uch alike upon m ost m atters.”

“Perhaps we m ay ; but it is m ore than I ever thought of. And as to m ost

m atters, to say the truth, there are not m any that I know m y own m ind about.”

“By Jove, no m ore do I. It is not m y way to bother m y brains with what

does not concern m e. My notion of things is sim ple enough. Let m e only have the girl I like, say I, with a com fortable house over m y head, and what care I for all the rest? Fortune is nothing. I am sure of a good incom e of m y own; and if she had not a penny, why, so m uch the better.”

“Very true. I think like y ou there. If there is a good fortune on one side,

there can be no occasion for any on the other. No m atter which has it, so that there is enough. I hate the idea of one great fortune looking out for another. And to m arry for m oney I think the wickedest thing in existence. Good day. We shall be very glad to see y ou at Fullerton, whenever it is convenient.” And away she went. It was not in the power of all his gallantry to detain her longer. With such news to com m unicate, and such a visit to prepare for, her departure was not to be delay ed by any thing in his nature to urge; and she hurried away, leaving him to the undivided consciousness of his own happy address, and her explicit encouragem ent.

The agitation which she had herself experienced on first learning her

brother’s engagem ent m ade her expect to raise no inconsiderable em otion in Mr. and Mrs. Allen, by the com m unication of the wonderful event. How great was her disappointm ent! The im portant affair, which m any words of preparation ushered in, had been foreseen by them both ever since her brother’s arrival; and all that they felt on the occasion was com prehended in a wish for the y oung people’s happiness, with a rem ark, on the gentlem an’s side, in favour of Isabella’s beauty, and on the lady ’s, of her great good luck. It was to Catherine the m ost surprising insensibility. The disclosure, however, of the great secret of Jam es’s going to Fullerton the day before, did raise som e em otion in Mrs. Allen. She could not listen to that with perfect calm ness, but repeatedly regretted the necessity of its concealm ent, wished she could have known his intention, wished she could have seen him before he went, as she should certainly have troubled him with her best regards to his father and m other, and her kind com plim ents to all the Skinners.