"My dearest Catherine, have you settled what to wear on your head
to-night? I am determined, at all events, to be dressed exactly like
you. The men take notice of _that_ sometimes, you know."
"But it does not signify if they do," said Catherine, very innocently.
"Signify! oh, heavens! I make it a rule never to mind what they say.
They are very often amazingly impertinent, if you do not treat them with
spirit, and make them keep their distance."
"Are they? Well I never observed _that_. They always behave very well to
me."
"Oh! they give themselves such airs. They are the most conceited
creatures in the world, and think themselves of so much importance! By
the by, though I have thought of it a hundred times, I have always
forgot to ask you what is your favorite complexion in a man. Do you like
them best dark or fair?"
"I hardly know. I never much thought about it. Something between both, I
think--brown: not fair, and not very dark."
"Very well, Catherine. That is exactly he. I have not forgot your
description of Mr. Tilney: 'a brown skin, with dark eyes, and rather
dark hair.' Well, my taste is different. I prefer light eyes; and as to
complexion, do you know, I like a sallow better than any other. You must
not betray me, if you should ever meet with one of your acquaintance
answering that description."
"Betray you! What do you mean?"
"Nay, do not distress me. I believe I have said too much. Let us drop
the subject."
Catherine, in some amazement, complied; and after remaining a few
moments silent, was on the point of reverting to what interested her at
that time rather more than anything else in the world, Laurentina's
skeleton, when her friend prevented her by saying, "For Heaven's sake!
let us move away from this end of the room. Do you know, there are two
odious young men who have been staring at me this half-hour. They really
put me quite out of countenance. Let us go and look at the arrivals.
They will hardly follow us there."
Away they walked to the book; and while Isabella examined the names, it
was Catherine's employment to watch the proceedings of these alarming
young men.
"They are not coming this way, are they? I hope they are not so
impertinent as to follow us. Pray let me know if they are coming. I am
determined I will not look up."
In a few moments Catherine, with unaffected pleasure, assured her that
she need not be longer uneasy, as the gentlemen had just left the
Pump-room.
"And which way are they gone?" said Isabella, turning hastily round.
"One was a very good-looking young man."
"They went towards the churchyard."
"Well, I am amazingly glad I have got rid of them! And now what say you
to going to Edgar's Buildings with me, and looking at my new hat? You
said you should like to see it."
Catherine readily agreed. "Only," she added, "perhaps we may overtake
the two young men."
"Oh! never mind that. If we make haste, we shall pass by them presently,
and I am dying to show you my hat."
"But if we only wait a few minutes, there will be no danger of our
seeing them at all."
"I shall not pay them any such compliment, I assure you. I have no
notion of treating men with such respect. _That_ is the way to
spoil them."
Catherine had nothing to oppose against such reasoning; and therefore,
to show the independence of Miss Thorpe, and her resolution of humbling
the sex, they set off immediately, as fast as they could walk, in
pursuit of the two young men.
Half a minute conducted them through the Pump-yard to the archway,
opposite Union Passage; but here they were stopped. Everybody acquainted
with Bath may remember the difficulties of crossing Cheap Street at this
point; it is indeed a street of so impertinent a nature, so
unfortunately connected with the great London and Oxford roads, and the
principal inn of the city, that a day never passes in which parties of
ladies, however important their business, whether in quest of pastry,
millinery, or even (as in the present case) of young men, are not
detained on one side or other by carriages, horsemen, or carts. This
evil had been felt and lamented, at least three times a day, by Isabella
since her residence in Bath: and she was now fated to feel and lament it
once more; for at the very moment of coming opposite to Union Passage,
and within view of the two gentlemen who were proceeding through the
crowds and treading the gutters of that interesting alley, they were
prevented crossing by the approach of a gig, driven along on bad
pavements by a most knowing-looking coachman, with all the vehemence
that could most fitly endanger the lives of himself, his companion, and
his horse.
"Oh, these odious gigs!" said Isabella, looking up, "how I detest them!"
But this detestation, though so just, was of short duration, for she
looked again, and exclaimed, "Delightful! Mr. Morland and my brother!"
"Good Heaven! 'tis James!" was uttered at the same moment by Catherine;
and on catching the young men's eyes, the horse was immediately checked
with a violence which almost threw him on his haunches; and the servant
having now scampered up, the gentlemen jumped out, and the equipage was
delivered to his care.
Catherine, by whom this meeting was wholly unexpected, received her
brother with the liveliest pleasure; and he, being of a very amiable
disposition, and sincerely attached to her, gave every proof on his side
of equal satisfaction, which he could have leisure to do, while the
bright eyes of Miss Thorpe were incessantly challenging his notice; and
to her his devoirs were speedily paid, with a mixture of joy and
embarrassment which might have informed Catherine, had she been more
expert in the development of other people's feelings, and less simply
engrossed by her own, that her brother thought her friend quite as
pretty as she could do herself.
John Thorpe, who in the mean time had been giving orders about the
horse, soon joined them, and from him she directly received the amends
which were her due; for while he slightly and carelessly touched the
hand of Isabella, on her he bestowed a whole scrape and half a short
bow. He was a stout young man, of middling height, who, with a plain
face and ungraceful form, seemed fearful of being too handsome unless he
wore the dress of a groom, and too much like a gentleman unless he were
easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent where he might be allowed
to be easy. He took out his watch:--"How long do you think we have been
running in from Tetbury, Miss Morland?"
"I do not know the distance." Her brother told her that it was
twenty-three miles.
"_Three_-and-twenty!" cried Thorpe; "five-and-twenty if it is an inch."
Morland remonstrated, pleaded the authority of road-books, innkeepers,
and milestones: but his friend disregarded them all; he had a surer test
of distance. "I know it must be five-and-twenty," said he, "by the time
we have been doing it." "It is now half after one; we drove out of the
inn-yard at Tetbury as the town-clock struck eleven; and I defy any man
in England to make my horse go less than ten miles an hour in harness;
that makes it exactly twenty-five."
"You have lost an hour," said Morland: "it was only ten o'clock when we
came from Tetbury."
"Ten o'clock! it was eleven, upon my soul! I counted every stroke. This
brother of yours would persuade me out of my senses, Miss Morland. Do
but look at my horse: did you ever see an animal so made for speed in
your life?" (The servant had just mounted the carriage and was driving
off.) "Such true blood! Three hours and a half, indeed, coming only
three-and-twenty miles! Look at that creature, and suppose it possible,
if you can!"
"He _does_ look very hot, to be sure."
"Hot! he had not turned a hair till we came to Walcot Church: but look
at his forehand; look at his loins; only see how he moves: that horse
_cannot_ go less than ten miles an hour; tie his legs, and he will get
on. What do you think of my gig, Miss Morland? A neat one, is it not?
Well hung; town built: I have not had it a month. It was built for a
Christ Church man, a friend of mine, a very good sort of fellow; he ran
it a few weeks, till, I believe, it was convenient to have done with it.
I happened just then to be looking out for some light thing of the kind,
though I had pretty well determined on a curricle too; but I chanced to
meet him on Magdalen Bridge, as he was driving into Oxford, last term:
'Ah, Thorpe,' said he, 'do you happen to want such a little thing as
this? It is a capital one of the kind, but I am cursed tired of it.'
'Oh! d----,' said I, 'I am your man; what do you ask?' And how much do
you think he did, Miss Morland?"
"I am sure I cannot guess at all."
"Curricle-hung, you see; seat, trunk, sword-case, splashing-board,
lamps, silver molding, all, you see, complete; the ironwork as good as
new, or better. He asked fifty guineas: I closed with him directly,
threw down the money, and the carriage was mine."
"And I am sure," said Catherine, "I know so little of such things, that
I cannot judge whether it was cheap or dear."
"Neither one nor t'other; I might have got it for less, I dare say; but
I hate haggling, and poor Freeman wanted cash."
"That was very good-natured of you," said Catherine, quite pleased.
"Oh! d---- it, when one has the means of doing a kind thing by a friend,
I hate to be pitiful."
An inquiry now took place into the intended movements of the young
ladies; and on finding whither they were going, it was decided that the
gentlemen should accompany them to Edgar's Buildings, and pay their
respects to Mrs. Thorpe. James and Isabella led the way; and so well
satisfied was the latter with her lot, so contentedly was she
endeavoring to insure a pleasant walk to him who brought the double
recommendation of being her brother's friend and her friend's brother,
so pure and uncoquettish were her feelings, that though they overtook
and passed the two offending young men in Milsom Street, she was so far
from seeking to attract their notice that she looked back at them only
three times.
John Thorpe kept of course with Catherine, and after a few minutes'
silence renewed the conversation about his gig:--"You will find,
however, Miss Morland, it would be reckoned a cheap thing by some
people, for I might have sold it for ten guineas more the next day;
Jackson of Oriel bid me sixty at once; Morland was with me at the time."
"Yes," said Morland, who overheard this; "bet you forgot that your horse
was included."
"My horse! oh, d---- it! I would not sell my horse for a hundred. Are
you fond of an open carriage, Miss Morland?"
"Yes, very: I have hardly ever an opportunity of being in one; but I am
particularly fond of it."
"I am glad of it: I will drive you out in mine every day."
"Thank you," said Catherine, in some distress, from a doubt of the
propriety of accepting such an offer.
"I will drive you up Lansdown Hill to-morrow."
"Thank you; but will not your horse want rest?"
"Rest! he has only come three-and-twenty miles to-day; all nonsense:
nothing ruins horses so much as rest; nothing knocks them up so soon.
No, no: I shall exercise mine at the average of four hours every day
while I am here."
"Shall you, indeed!" said Catherine, very seriously: "that will be
forty miles a day."
"Forty! ay, fifty, for what I care. Well, I will drive you up Lansdown
to-morrow; mind, I am engaged."
"How delightful that will be!" cried Isabella, turning round; "my
dearest Catherine, I quite envy you; but I am afraid, brother, you will
not have room for a third."
"A third, indeed! no, no; I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters
about: that would be a good joke, faith! Morland must take care of you."
This brought on a dialogue of civilities between the other two; but
Catherine heard neither the particulars nor the result. Her companion's
discourse now sunk from its hitherto animated pitch to nothing more than
a short, decisive sentence of praise or condemnation on the face of
every women they met; and Catherine, after listening and agreeing as
long as she could, with all the civility and deference of the youthful
female mind, fearful of hazarding an opinion of its own in opposition to
that of a self-assured man, especially where the beauty of her own sex
is concerned, ventured at length to vary the subject by a question which
had been long uppermost in her thoughts. It was, "Have you ever read
'Udolpho,' Mr. Thorpe?"
"'Udolpho'! O Lord! not I: I never read novels; I have something else to
do."
Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was going to apologize for her question;
but he prevented her by saying, "Novels are all so full of nonsense and
stuff! there has not been a tolerable decent one come out since 'Tom
Jones,' except the 'Monk'; I read that t'other day: but as for all the
others, they are the stupidest things in creation."
"I think you must like 'Udolpho,' if you were to read it: it is so very
interesting."
"Not I, faith! No, if I read any, it shall be Mrs. Radcliffe's; her
novels are amusing enough: they are worth reading; some fun and nature
in _them_.
"'Udolpho' was written by Mrs. Radcliffe," said Catherine, with some
hesitation, from the fear of mortifying him.
"No, sure; was it? Ay, I remember, so it was; I was thinking of that
other stupid book, written by that woman they made such a fuss about;
she who married the French emigrant."
"I suppose you mean 'Camilla'?"
"Yes, that's the book: such unnatural stuff! An old man playing at
see-saw: I took up the first volume once, and looked it over, but I soon
found it would not do; indeed, I guessed what sort of stuff it must be
before I saw it; as soon as I heard she had married an emigrant, I was
sure I should never be able to get through it."
"I have never read it."
"You have no loss, I assure you; it is the horridest nonsense you can
imagine: there is nothing in the world in it but an old man's playing at
see-saw and learning Latin; upon my soul, there is not."
This critique, the justness of which was unfortunately lost on poor
Catherine, brought them to the door of Mrs. Thorpe's lodgings, and the
feelings of the discerning and unprejudiced reader of 'Camilla' gave way
to the feelings of the dutiful and affectionate son, as they met Mrs.
Thorpe, who had descried them from above, in the passage. "Ah, mother,
how do you do?" said he, giving her a hearty shake of the hand; "where
did you get that quiz of a hat? it makes you look like an old witch.
Here is Morland and I come to stay a few days with you; so you must look
out for a couple of good beds somewhere near." And this address seemed
to satisfy all the fondest wishes of the mother's heart, for she
received him with the most delighted and exulting affection. On his two
younger sisters he then bestowed an equal portion of his fraternal
tenderness, for he asked each of them how they did, and observed that
they both looked very ugly.