Chapter 27

The next m orning brought the following unexpected letter from

Isabella:

Bath, April,

My dearest Catherine, I received your two kind letters with the greatest

delight, and have a thousand apologies to make for not answering them sooner. I really am quite ashamed of my idleness; but in this horrid place one can find time

for nothing. I have had my pen in my hand to begin a letter to you almost every day since you left Bath, but have always been prevented by some silly trifler or

other. Pray write to me soon, and direct to my own home. Thank God, we leave this vile place tomorrow. Since you went away, I have had no pleasure in it – the dust is beyond anything; and everybody one cares for is gone. I believe if I could see you I should not mind the rest, for you are dearer to me than anybody can conceive. I am quite uneasy about your dear brother, not having heard from him since he went

to Oxford; and am fearful of some misunderstanding. Your kind offices will set all

right: he is the only man I ever did or could love, and I trust you will convince him

of it. The spring fashions are partly down; and the hats the most frightful you can imagine. I hope you spend your time pleasantly, but am afraid you never think of

me. I will not say all that I could of the family you are with, because I would not be

ungenerous, or set you against those you esteem; but it is very difficult to know

whom to trust, and young men never know their minds two days together. I rejoice

to say that the young man whom, of all others, I particularly abhor, has left Bath.

You will know, from this description, I must mean Captain Tilney, who, as you may remember, was amazingly disposed to follow and tease me, before you went away.

Afterwards he got worse, and became quite my shadow. Many girls might have been taken in, for never were such attentions; but I knew the fickle sex too well. He went away to his regiment two days ago, and I trust I shall never be plagued

with him again. He is the greatest coxcomb I ever saw, and amazingly

disagreeable. The last two days he was always by the side of Charlotte Davis: I

pitied his taste, but took no notice of him. The last time we met was in Bath Street, and I turned directly into a shop that he might not speak to me; I would not even

look at him. He went into the pump-room afterwards; but I would not have followed him for all the world. Such a contrast between him and your brother! Pray send me

some news of the latter. I am quite unhappy about him; he seemed so

uncomfortable when he went away, with a cold, or something that affected his

spirits. I would write to him myself, but have mislaid his direction; and, as I hinted above, am afraid he took something in my conduct amiss. Pray explain everything to his satisfaction; or, if he still harbours any doubt, a line from himself to me, or a

call at Putney when next in town, might set all to rights. I have not been to the

rooms this age, nor to the play, except going in last night with the Hodges, for a

frolic, at half price: they teased me into it; and I was determined they should not

say I shut myself up because Tilney was gone. We happened to sit by the Mitchells,

and they pretended to be quite surprised to see me out. I knew their spite: at one

time they could not be civil to me, but now they are all friendship; but I am not such a fool as to be taken in by them. You know I have a pretty good spirit of my own. Anne Mitchell had tried to put on a turban like mine, as I wore it the week before at the concert, but made wretched work of it – it happened to become my odd face, I believe, at least Tilney told me so at the time, and said every eye was

upon me; but he is the last man whose word I would take. I wear nothing but purple

now: I know I look hideous in it, but no matter – it is your dear brother’s favourite colour. Lose no time, my dearest, sweetest Catherine, in writing to him and to me,

Who ever am, etc.

Such a strain of shallow artifice could not im pose even upon Catherine.

Its inconsistencies, contradictions, and falsehood struck her from the very first. She was asham ed of Isabella, and asham ed of having ever loved her. Her professions of attachm ent were now as disgusting as her excuses were em pty, and her dem ands im pudent. “Write to Jam es on her behalf! No, Jam es should never hear Isabella’s nam e m entioned by her again.”

On Henry ’s arrival from Woodston, she m ade known to him and

Eleanor their brother’s safety, congratulating them with sincerity on it, and reading aloud the m ost m aterial passages of her letter with strong indignation. When she had finished it – “So m uch for Isabella,” she cried, “and for all our intim acy ! She m ust think m e an idiot, or she could not have written so; but perhaps this has served to m ake her character better known to m e than m ine is to her. I see what she has been about. She is a vain coquette, and her tricks have not answered. I do not believe she had ever any regard either for Jam es or for m e, and I wish I had never known her.”

“It will soon be as if y ou never had,” said Henry. “There is but one thing that I cannot understand. I see that she has had

designs on Captain Tilney, which have not succeeded; but I do not understand what Captain Tilney has been about all this tim e. Why should he pay her such attentions as to m ake her quarrel with m y brother, and then fly off him self?”

“I have very little to say for Frederick’s m otives, such as I believe them

to have been. He has his vanities as well as Miss Thorpe, and the chief difference is, that, having a stronger head, they have not y et inj ured him self. If the effect of his behaviour does not j ustify him with y ou, we had better not seek after the cause.”

“Then y ou do not suppose he ever really cared about her?”

“I am persuaded that he never did.”

“And only m ade believe to do so for m ischief ’s sake?”

Henry bowed his assent.

“Well, then, I m ust say that I do not like him at all. Though it has turned

out so well for us, I do not like him at all. As it happens, there is no great harm done, because I do not think Isabella has any heart to lose. But, suppose he had m ade her very m uch in love with him ?”

“But we m ust first suppose Isabella to have had a heart to lose –

consequently to have been a very different creature; and, in that case, she would have m et with very different treatm ent.”

“It is very right that y ou should stand by y our brother.”

“And if y ou would stand by y ours, y ou would not be m uch distressed

by the disappointm ent of Miss Thorpe. But y our m ind is warped by an innate principle of general integrity, and therefore not accessible to the cool reasonings of fam ily partiality, or a desire of revenge.”

Catherine was com plim ented out of further bitterness. Frederick could

not be unpardonably guilty, while Henry m ade him self so agreeable. She resolved on not answering Isabella’s letter, and tried to think no m ore of it.