Chapter 16

Catherine’s expectations of pleasure from her visit in Milsom Street

were so very high that disappointm ent was inevitable; and accordingly, though she was m ost politely received by General Tilney, and kindly welcom ed by his daughter, though Henry was at hom e, and no one else of the party, she found, on her return, without spending m any hours in the exam ination of her feelings, that she had gone to her appointm ent preparing for happiness which it had not afforded. Instead of finding herself im proved in acquaintance with Miss Tilney, from the intercourse of the day, she seem ed hardly so intim ate with her as before; instead of seeing Henry Tilney to greater advantage than ever, in the ease of a fam ily 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 com plim ents – 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 charm ing m an, did not adm it of a doubt, for he was tall and handsom e, and Henry ’s father. He could not be accountable for his children’s want of spirits, or for her want of enj oy m ent in his com pany. The form er she hoped at last m ight 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 fam ily to be very high, and this m ade 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 com m on 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 y ou! Good heavens! Well, som e people’s feelings are incom prehensible. And so he hardly looked once at y ou the whole day ?”

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

“How contem ptible! Of all things in the world inconstancy is m y

aversion. Let m e entreat y ou never to think of him again, m y dear Catherine; indeed he is unworthy of y ou.”

“Unworthy ! I do not suppose he ever thinks of m e.”

“That is exactly what I say ; he never thinks of y ou. Such fickleness!

Oh! How different to y our brother and to m ine! I really believe John has the m ost constant heart.”

“But as for General Tilney, I assure y ou it would be im possible for

any body to behave to m e with greater civility and attention; it seem ed to be his only care to entertain and m ake m e happy.”

“Oh! I know no harm of him ; I do not suspect him of pride. I believe he

is a very gentlem an-like m an. John thinks very well of him , and John’s j udgm ent – “

“Well, I shall see how they behave to m e this evening; we shall m eet

them at the room s.”

“And m ust I go?”

“Do not y ou intend it? I thought it was all settled.”

“Nay, since y ou m ake such a point of it, I can refuse y ou nothing. But

do not insist upon m y being very agreeable, for m y heart, y ou know, will be som e forty m iles off. And as for dancing, do not m ention it, I beg; that is quite out of the question. Charles Hodges will plague m e 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 conj ecture to him self.”

Isabella’s opinion of the Tilney s did not influence her friend; she was

sure there had been no insolence in the m anners either of brother or sister; and she did not credit there being any pride in their hearts. The evening rewarded her confidence; she was m et by one with the sam e kindness, and by the other with the sam e 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 alm ost every hour, she was at no loss for the nam e of a very fashionable-looking, handsom e y oung m an, whom she had never seen before, and who now evidently belonged to their party. She looked at him with great adm iration, and even supposed it possible that som e people m ight think him handsom er than his brother, though, in her ey es, his air was m ore assum ing, and his countenance less prepossessing. His taste and m anners were bey ond a doubt decidedly inferior; for, within her hearing, he not only protested against every thought of dancing him self, but even laughed openly at Henry for finding it possible. From the latter circum stance it m ay be presum ed that, whatever m ight be our heroine’s opinion of him , his adm iration of her was not of a very dangerous kind; not likely to produce anim osities between the brothers, nor persecutions to the lady. He cannot be the instigator of the three villains in horsem en’s greatcoats, by whom she will hereafter be forced into a traveling-chaise and four, which will drive off with incredible speed. Catherine, m eanwhile, undisturbed by presentim ents of such an evil, or of any evil at all, except that of having but a short set to dance down, enj oy ed her usual happiness with Henry Tilney, listening with sparkling ey es to every thing he said; and, in finding him irresistible, becom ing so herself.

At the end of the first dance, Captain Tilney cam e towards them again,

and, m uch to Catherine’s dissatisfaction, pulled his brother away. They retired whispering together; and, though her delicate sensibility did not take im m ediate alarm , and lay it down as fact, that Captain Tilney m ust have heard som e m alevolent m isrepresentation of her, which he now hastened to com m unicate to his brother, in the hope of separating them forever, she could not have her partner convey ed from her sight without very uneasy sensations. Her suspense was of full five m inutes’ 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 obj ection to dancing, as his brother would be m ost happy to be introduced to her. Catherine, without hesitation, replied that she was very sure Miss Thorpe did not m ean to dance at all. The cruel reply was passed on to the other, and he im m ediately walked away.

“Your brother will not m ind 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 m ight wish for a partner; but he is quite m istaken, for she would not dance upon any account in the world.”

Henry sm iled, and said, “How very little trouble it can give y ou to

understand the m otive of other people’s actions.”

“Why ? What do y ou m ean?”

“With y ou, it is not, How is such a one likely to be influenced, What is

the inducem ent m ost 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 m y inducem ent in acting so and so?”

“I do not understand y ou.”

“Then we are on very unequal term s, for I understand y ou perfectly

well.”

“Me? Yes; I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible.”

“Bravo! An excellent satire on m odern language.”

“But pray tell m e what y ou m ean.”

“Shall I indeed? Do y ou really desire it? But y ou are not aware of the

consequences; it will involve y ou in a very cruel em barrassm ent, and certainly bring on a disagreem ent between us”.

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

“Well, then, I only m eant that y our attributing m y brother’s wish of

dancing with Miss Thorpe to good nature alone convinced m e of y our being superior in good nature y ourself to all the rest of the world.”

Catherine blushed and disclaim ed, and the gentlem an’s predictions were

verified. There was a som ething, however, in his words which repaid her for the pain of confusion; and that som ething occupied her m ind so m uch that she drew back for som e tim e, forgetting to speak or to listen, and alm ost 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 sm iled, the only explanation of this

extraor-dinary change which could at that tim e be given; but as it was not quite enough for Catherine’s com prehension, she spoke her as-tonishm ent in very plain term s to her partner.

“I cannot think how it could happen! Isabella was so determ ined not to

dance.”

“And did Isabella never change her m ind before?”

“Oh! But, because... And y our brother! After what y ou told him from

m e, how could he think of going to ask her?”

“I cannot take surprise to m y self on that head. You bid m e be surprised

on y our friend’s account, and therefore I am ; but as for m y brother, his conduct in the business, I m ust own, has been no m ore than I believed him perfectly equal to. The fairness of y our friend was an open attraction; her firm ness, y ou know, could only be understood by y ourself.”

“You are laughing; but, I assure y ou, Isabella is very firm in general.”

“It is as m uch as should be said of any one. To be alway s firm m ust be

to be often obstinate. When properly to relax is the trial of j udgm ent; and, without reference to m y brother, I really think Miss Thorpe has by no m eans 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 y our surprise; and I am really fatigued to death. He is such a rattle! Am using enough, if m y m ind had been disengaged; but I would have given the world to sit still.”

“Then why did not y ou?”

“Oh! My dear! It would have looked so particular; and y ou 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 m e. I begged him to excuse m e, and get som e other partner – but no, not he; after aspiring to m y hand, there was nobody else in the room he could bear to think of; and it was not that he wanted m erely to dance, he wanted to be with m e. Oh! Such nonsense! I told him he had taken a very unlikely way to prevail upon m e; for, of all things in the world, I hated fine speeches and com plim ents; 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 , m ight take it ill if I did not: and y our dear brother, I am sure he would have been m iserable if I had sat down the whole evening. I am so glad it is over! My spirits are quite j aded with listening to his nonsense: and then, being such a sm art y oung fellow, I saw every ey e was upon us.”

“He is very handsom e indeed.”

“Handsom e! Yes, I suppose he m ay. I dare say people would adm ire

him in general; but he is not at all in m y sty le of beauty. I hate a florid com plexion and dark ey es in a m an. However, he is very well. Am azingly conceited, I am sure. I took him down several tim es, y ou know, in m y way.”

When the y oung ladies next m et, they had a far m ore interesting

subj ect to discuss. Jam es Morland’s second letter was then received, and the kind intentions of his father fully explained. A living, of which Mr. Morland was him self patron and incum bent, of about four hundred pounds y early value, was to be resigned to his son as soon as he should be old enough to take it; no trifling deduction from the fam ily incom e, no niggardly assignm ent to one of ten children. An estate of at least equal value, m oreover, was assured as his future inheritance.

Jam es expressed him self on the occasion with becom ing gratitude; and

the necessity of waiting between two and three y ears before they could m arry, being, however unwelcom e, no m ore than he had expected, was borne by him without discontent. Catherine, whose expectations had been as unfixed as her ideas of her father’s incom e, and whose j udgm ent was now entirely led by her brother, felt equally well satisfied, and heartily congratulated Isabella on having every thing so pleasantly settled.

“It is very charm ing indeed,” said Isabella, with a grave face. “Mr.

Morland has behaved vastly handsom e indeed,” said the gentle Mrs. Thorpe, looking anxiously at her daughter. “I only wish I could do as m uch. One could not expect m ore from him , y ou know. If he finds he can do m ore by and by, I dare say he will, for I am sure he m ust be an excellent good-hearted m an. Four hundred is but a sm all incom e to begin on indeed, but y our wishes, m y dear Isabella, are so m oderate, y ou do not consider how little y ou ever want, m y dear.”

“It is not on m y own account I wish for m ore; but I cannot bear to be

the m eans of inj uring m y dear Morland, m aking him sit down upon an incom e hardly enough to find one in the com m on necessaries of life. For m y self, it is nothing; I never think of m y self.”

“I know y ou never do, m y dear; and y ou will alway s find y our reward

in the affection it m akes every body feel for y ou. There never was a y oung wom an so beloved as y ou are by every body that knows y ou; and I dare say when Mr. Morland sees y ou, m y dear child – but do not let us distress our dear Catherine by talking of such things. Mr. Morland has behaved so very handsom e, y ou know. I alway s heard he was a m ost excellent m an; and y ou know, m y dear, we are not to suppose but what, if y ou had had a suitable fortune, he would have com e down with som ething m ore, for I am sure he m ust be a m ost liberal-m inded m an.”

“Nobody can think better of Mr. Morland than I do, I am sure. But every body has their failing, y ou know, and every body has a right to do what they like with their own m oney.” Catherine was hurt by these insinuations. “I am very sure,” said she, “that m y father has prom ised to do as m uch as he can afford.”

Isabella recollected herself. “As to that, m y sweet Catherine, there

cannot be a doubt, and y ou know m e well enough to be sure that a m uch sm aller incom e would satisfy m e. It is not the want of m ore m oney that m akes m e j ust at present a little out of spirits; I hate m oney ; and if our union could take place now upon only fifty pounds a y ear, I should not have a wish unsatisfied. Ah! m y Catherine, y ou have found m e out. There’s the sting. The long, long, endless two y ears and half that are to pass before y our brother can hold the living.”

“Yes, y es, m y darling Isabella,” said Mrs. Thorpe, “we perfectly see

into y our heart. You have no disguise. We perfectly understand the present vexation; and every body m ust love y ou the better for such a noble honest affection.”

Catherine’s uncom fortable feelings began to lessen. She endeavoured to

believe that the delay of the m arriage was the only source of Isabella’s regret; and when she saw her at their next interview as cheerful and am iable as ever, endeavoured to forget that she had for a m inute thought otherwise. Jam es soon followed his letter, and was received with the m ost gratify ing kindness.