CHAPTER 10
The Allens, Thorpes, and Morlands all met in the evening at thetheatre; and, as Catherine and Isabella sat together, there was then anopportunity for the latter to utter some few of the many thousandthings which had been collecting within her for communication in theimmeasurable length of time which had divided them. ”Oh, heavens!My beloved Catherine, have I got you at last?” was her address onCatherine's entering the box and sitting by her. ”Now, Mr. Morland,” forhe was close to her on the other side, ”I shall not speak another wordto you all the rest of the evening; so I charge you not to expect it. Mysweetest Catherine, how have you been this long age? But I need not askyou, for you look delightfully. You really have done your hair in amore heavenly style than ever; you mischievous creature, do you want toattract everybody? I assure you, my brother is quite in love with youalready; and as for Mr. Tilney--but that is a settled thing--even yourmodesty cannot doubt his attachment now; his coming back to Bath makesit too plain. Oh! What would not I give to see him! I really am quitewild with impatience. My mother says he is the most delightful young manin the world; she saw him this morning, you know; you must introduce himto me. Is he in the house now? Look about, for heaven's sake! I assureyou, I can hardly exist till I see him.”
”No,” said Catherine, ”he is not here; I cannot see him anywhere.”
”Oh, horrid! Am I never to be acquainted with him? How do you like mygown? I think it does not look amiss; the sleeves were entirely my ownthought. Do you know, I get so immoderately sick of Bath; your brotherand I were agreeing this morning that, though it is vastly well to behere for a few weeks, we would not live here for millions. We soon foundout that our tastes were exactly alike in preferring the country toevery other place; really, our opinions were so exactly the same, it wasquite ridiculous! There was not a single point in which we differed; Iwould not have had you by for the world; you are such a sly thing, I amsure you would have made some droll remark or other about it.”
”No, indeed I should not.”
”Oh, yes you would indeed; I know you better than you know yourself. Youwould have told us that we seemed born for each other, or some nonsenseof that kind, which would have distressed me beyond conception; mycheeks would have been as red as your roses; I would not have had you byfor the world.”
”Indeed you do me injustice; I would not have made so improper a remarkupon any account; and besides, I am sure it would never have entered myhead.”
Isabella smiled incredulously and talked the rest of the evening toJames.
Catherine's resolution of endeavouring to meet Miss Tilney againcontinued in full force the next morning; and till the usual moment ofgoing to the pump-room, she felt some alarm from the dread of a secondprevention. But nothing of that kind occurred, no visitors appeared todelay them, and they all three set off in good time for the pump-room,where the ordinary course of events and conversation took place; Mr.Allen, after drinking his glass of water, joined some gentlemen totalk over the politics of the day and compare the accounts of theirnewspapers; and the ladies walked about together, noticing every newface, and almost every new bonnet in the room. The female part of theThorpe family, attended by James Morland, appeared among the crowd inless than a quarter of an hour, and Catherine immediately took herusual place by the side of her friend. James, who was now in constantattendance, maintained a similar position, and separating themselvesfrom the rest of their party, they walked in that manner for sometime, till Catherine began to doubt the happiness of a situation which,confining her entirely to her friend and brother, gave her verylittle share in the notice of either. They were always engaged insome sentimental discussion or lively dispute, but their sentiment wasconveyed in such whispering voices, and their vivacity attended withso much laughter, that though Catherine's supporting opinion was notunfrequently called for by one or the other, she was never able to giveany, from not having heard a word of the subject. At length howevershe was empowered to disengage herself from her friend, by the avowednecessity of speaking to Miss Tilney, whom she most joyfully saw justentering the room with Mrs. Hughes, and whom she instantly joined, witha firmer determination to be acquainted, than she might have had courageto command, had she not been urged by the disappointment of the daybefore. Miss Tilney met her with great civility, returned her advanceswith equal goodwill, and they continued talking together as long asboth parties remained in the room; and though in all probability notan observation was made, nor an expression used by either which had notbeen made and used some thousands of times before, under that roof, inevery Bath season, yet the merit of their being spoken with simplicityand truth, and without personal conceit, might be something uncommon.
”How well your brother dances!” was an artless exclamation ofCatherine's towards the close of their conversation, which at oncesurprised and amused her companion.
”Henry!” she replied with a smile. ”Yes, he does dance very well.”
”He must have thought it very odd to hear me say I was engaged the otherevening, when he saw me sitting down. But I really had been engagedthe whole day to Mr. Thorpe.” Miss Tilney could only bow. ”You cannotthink,” added Catherine after a moment's silence, ”how surprised I wasto see him again. I felt so sure of his being quite gone away.”
”When Henry had the pleasure of seeing you before, he was in Bath butfor a couple of days. He came only to engage lodgings for us.”
”That never occurred to me; and of course, not seeing him anywhere, Ithought he must be gone. Was not the young lady he danced with on Mondaya Miss Smith?”
”Yes, an acquaintance of Mrs. Hughes.”
”I dare say she was very glad to dance. Do you think her pretty?”
”Not very.”
”He never comes to the pump-room, I suppose?”
”Yes, sometimes; but he has rid out this morning with my father.”
Mrs. Hughes now joined them, and asked Miss Tilney if she was ready togo. ”I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again soon,” saidCatherine. ”Shall you be at the cotillion ball tomorrow?”
”Perhaps we--Yes, I think we certainly shall.”
”I am glad of it, for we shall all be there.” This civility was dulyreturned; and they parted--on Miss Tilney's side with some knowledgeof her new acquaintance's feelings, and on Catherine's, without thesmallest consciousness of having explained them.
She went home very happy. The morning had answered all her hopes, andthe evening of the following day was now the object of expectation,the future good. What gown and what head-dress she should wear on theoccasion became her chief concern. She cannot be justified in it. Dressis at all times a frivolous distinction, and excessive solicitude aboutit often destroys its own aim. Catherine knew all this very well; hergreat aunt had read her a lecture on the subject only the Christmasbefore; and yet she lay awake ten minutes on Wednesday night debatingbetween her spotted and her tamboured muslin, and nothing but theshortness of the time prevented her buying a new one for the evening.This would have been an error in judgment, great though not uncommon,from which one of the other sex rather than her own, a brother ratherthan a great aunt, might have warned her, for man only can be aware ofthe insensibility of man towards a new gown. It would be mortifying tothe feelings of many ladies, could they be made to understand how littlethe heart of man is affected by what is costly or new in their attire;how little it is biased by the texture of their muslin, and howunsusceptible of peculiar tenderness towards the spotted, the sprigged,the mull, or the jackonet. Woman is fine for her own satisfaction alone.No man will admire her the more, no woman will like her the better forit. Neatness and fashion are enough for the former, and a something ofshabbiness or impropriety will be most endearing to the latter. But notone of these grave reflections troubled the tranquillity of Catherine.
She entered the rooms on Thursday evening with feelings very differentfrom what had attended her thither the Monday before. She had then beenexulting in her engagement to Thorpe, and was now chiefly anxious toavoid his sight, lest he should engage her again; for though she couldnot, dared not expect that Mr. Tilney should ask her a third time todance, her wishes, hopes, and plans all centred in nothing less. Everyyoung lady may feel for my heroine in this critical moment, for everyyoung lady has at some time or other known the same agitation. All havebeen, or at least all have believed themselves to be, in danger from thepursuit of someone whom they wished to avoid; and all have been anxiousfor the attentions of someone whom they wished to please. As soon asthey were joined by the Thorpes, Catherine's agony began; she fidgetedabout if John Thorpe came towards her, hid herself as much as possiblefrom his view, and when he spoke to her pretended not to hear him. Thecotillions were over, the country-dancing beginning, and she saw nothingof the Tilneys.
”Do not be frightened, my dear Catherine,” whispered Isabella, ”but I amreally going to dance with your brother again. I declare positively itis quite shocking. I tell him he ought to be ashamed of himself, but youand John must keep us in countenance. Make haste, my dear creature, andcome to us. John is just walked off, but he will be back in a moment.”
Catherine had neither time nor inclination to answer. The others walkedaway, John Thorpe was still in view, and she gave herself up for lost.That she might not appear, however, to observe or expect him, she kepther eyes intently fixed on her fan; and a self-condemnation for herfolly, in supposing that among such a crowd they should even meet withthe Tilneys in any reasonable time, had just passed through her mind,when she suddenly found herself addressed and again solicited to dance,by Mr. Tilney himself. With what sparkling eyes and ready motion shegranted his request, and with how pleasing a flutter of heart she wentwith him to the set, may be easily imagined. To escape, and, asshe believed, so narrowly escape John Thorpe, and to be asked, soimmediately on his joining her, asked by Mr. Tilney, as if he had soughther on purpose!--it did not appear to her that life could supply anygreater felicity.
Scarcely had they worked themselves into the quiet possession of aplace, however, when her attention was claimed by John Thorpe, who stoodbehind her. ”Heyday, Miss Morland!” said he. ”What is the meaning ofthis? I thought you and I were to dance together.”
”I wonder you should think so, for you never asked me.”
”That is a good one, by Jove! I asked you as soon as I came into theroom, and I was just going to ask you again, but when I turned round,you were gone! This is a cursed shabby trick! I only came for the sakeof dancing with you, and I firmly believe you were engaged to me eversince Monday. Yes; I remember, I asked you while you were waiting in thelobby for your cloak. And here have I been telling all my acquaintancethat I was going to dance with the prettiest girl in the room; andwhen they see you standing up with somebody else, they will quiz mefamously.”
”Oh, no; they will never think of me, after such a description as that.”
”By heavens, if they do not, I will kick them out of the room forblockheads. What chap have you there?” Catherine satisfied hiscuriosity. ”Tilney,” he repeated. ”Hum--I do not know him. A good figureof a man; well put together. Does he want a horse? Here is a friendof mine, Sam Fletcher, has got one to sell that would suit anybody. Afamous clever animal for the road--only forty guineas. I had fifty mindsto buy it myself, for it is one of my maxims always to buy a good horsewhen I meet with one; but it would not answer my purpose, it would notdo for the field. I would give any money for a real good hunter. Ihave three now, the best that ever were backed. I would not takeeight hundred guineas for them. Fletcher and I mean to get a house inLeicestershire, against the next season. It is so d--uncomfortable,living at an inn.”
This was the last sentence by which he could weary Catherine'sattention, for he was just then borne off by the resistless pressure ofa long string of passing ladies. Her partner now drew near, and said,”That gentleman would have put me out of patience, had he stayed withyou half a minute longer. He has no business to withdraw the attentionof my partner from me. We have entered into a contract of mutualagreeableness for the space of an evening, and all our agreeablenessbelongs solely to each other for that time. Nobody can fasten themselveson the notice of one, without injuring the rights of the other.I consider a country-dance as an emblem of marriage. Fidelity andcomplaisance are the principal duties of both; and those men who do notchoose to dance or marry themselves, have no business with the partnersor wives of their neighbours.”
”But they are such very different things!”
”--That you think they cannot be compared together.”
”To be sure not. People that marry can never part, but must go and keephouse together. People that dance only stand opposite each other in along room for half an hour.”
”And such is your definition of matrimony and dancing. Taken in thatlight certainly, their resemblance is not striking; but I think I couldplace them in such a view. You will allow, that in both, man has theadvantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal; that in both,it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage ofeach; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to eachother till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty, eachto endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she hadbestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their ownimaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours,or fancying that they should have been better off with anyone else. Youwill allow all this?”
”Yes, to be sure, as you state it, all this sounds very well; but stillthey are so very different. I cannot look upon them at all in the samelight, nor think the same duties belong to them.”
”In one respect, there certainly is a difference. In marriage, the manis supposed to provide for the support of the woman, the woman to makethe home agreeable to the man; he is to purvey, and she is to smile.But in dancing, their duties are exactly changed; the agreeableness, thecompliance are expected from him, while she furnishes the fan and thelavender water. That, I suppose, was the difference of duties whichstruck you, as rendering the conditions incapable of comparison.”
”No, indeed, I never thought of that.”
”Then I am quite at a loss. One thing, however, I must observe. Thisdisposition on your side is rather alarming. You totally disallow anysimilarity in the obligations; and may I not thence infer that yournotions of the duties of the dancing state are not so strict as yourpartner might wish? Have I not reason to fear that if the gentleman whospoke to you just now were to return, or if any other gentleman were toaddress you, there would be nothing to restrain you from conversing withhim as long as you chose?”
”Mr. Thorpe is such a very particular friend of my brother's, that if hetalks to me, I must talk to him again; but there are hardly three youngmen in the room besides him that I have any acquaintance with.”
”And is that to be my only security? Alas, alas!”
”Nay, I am sure you cannot have a better; for if I do not know anybody,it is impossible for me to talk to them; and, besides, I do not want totalk to anybody.”
”Now you have given me a security worth having; and I shall proceedwith courage. Do you find Bath as agreeable as when I had the honour ofmaking the inquiry before?”
”Yes, quite--more so, indeed.”
”More so! Take care, or you will forget to be tired of it at the propertime. You ought to be tired at the end of six weeks.”
”I do not think I should be tired, if I were to stay here six months.”
”Bath, compared with London, has little variety, and so everybody findsout every year. 'For six weeks, I allow Bath is pleasant enough; butbeyond that, it is the most tiresome place in the world.' You would betold so by people of all descriptions, who come regularly every winter,lengthen their six weeks into ten or twelve, and go away at last becausethey can afford to stay no longer.”
”Well, other people must judge for themselves, and those who go toLondon may think nothing of Bath. But I, who live in a small retiredvillage in the country, can never find greater sameness in such a placeas this than in my own home; for here are a variety of amusements, avariety of things to be seen and done all day long, which I can knownothing of there.”
”You are not fond of the country.”
”Yes, I am. I have always lived there, and always been very happy. Butcertainly there is much more sameness in a country life than in a Bathlife. One day in the country is exactly like another.”
”But then you spend your time so much more rationally in the country.”
”Do I?”
”Do you not?”
”I do not believe there is much difference.”
”Here you are in pursuit only of amusement all day long.”
”And so I am at home--only I do not find so much of it. I walk abouthere, and so I do there; but here I see a variety of people in everystreet, and there I can only go and call on Mrs. Allen.”
Mr. Tilney was very much amused.
”Only go and call on Mrs. Allen!” he repeated. ”What a picture ofintellectual poverty! However, when you sink into this abyss again, youwill have more to say. You will be able to talk of Bath, and of all thatyou did here.”
”Oh! Yes. I shall never be in want of something to talk of again to Mrs.Allen, or anybody else. I really believe I shall always be talking ofBath, when I am at home again--I do like it so very much. If I could buthave Papa and Mamma, and the rest of them here, I suppose I should betoo happy! James's coming (my eldest brother) is quite delightful--andespecially as it turns out that the very family we are just got sointimate with are his intimate friends already. Oh! Who can ever betired of Bath?”
”Not those who bring such fresh feelings of every sort to it as you do.But papas and mammas, and brothers, and intimate friends are a good dealgone by, to most of the frequenters of Bath--and the honest relish ofballs and plays, and everyday sights, is past with them.” Heretheir conversation closed, the demands of the dance becoming now tooimportunate for a divided attention.
Soon after their reaching the bottom of the set, Catherine perceivedherself to be earnestly regarded by a gentleman who stood among thelookers-on, immediately behind her partner. He was a very handsome man,of a commanding aspect, past the bloom, but not past the vigour oflife; and with his eye still directed towards her, she saw him presentlyaddress Mr. Tilney in a familiar whisper. Confused by his notice, andblushing from the fear of its being excited by something wrong inher appearance, she turned away her head. But while she did so, thegentleman retreated, and her partner, coming nearer, said, ”I see thatyou guess what I have just been asked. That gentleman knows your name,and you have a right to know his. It is General Tilney, my father.”
Catherine's answer was only ”Oh!”--but it was an ”Oh!” expressingeverything needful: attention to his words, and perfect reliance ontheir truth. With real interest and strong admiration did her eye nowfollow the general, as he moved through the crowd, and ”How handsome afamily they are!” was her secret remark.
In chatting with Miss Tilney before the evening concluded, a new sourceof felicity arose to her. She had never taken a country walk sinceher arrival in Bath. Miss Tilney, to whom all the commonly frequentedenvirons were familiar, spoke of them in terms which made her alleagerness to know them too; and on her openly fearing that she mightfind nobody to go with her, it was proposed by the brother and sisterthat they should join in a walk, some morning or other. ”I shall likeit,” she cried, ”beyond anything in the world; and do not let us putit off--let us go tomorrow.” This was readily agreed to, with only aproviso of Miss Tilney's, that it did not rain, which Catherine was sureit would not. At twelve o'clock, they were to call for her in PulteneyStreet; and ”Remember--twelve o'clock,” was her parting speech toher new friend. Of her other, her older, her more established friend,Isabella, of whose fidelity and worth she had enjoyed a fortnight'sexperience, she scarcely saw anything during the evening. Yet, thoughlonging to make her acquainted with her happiness, she cheerfullysubmitted to the wish of Mr. Allen, which took them rather early away,and her spirits danced within her, as she danced in her chair all theway home.