Chapter 11

by Jane Austen

　　The morrow brought a very sober-looking morning,the sun making only a few efforts to appear, and Catherineaugured from it everything most favourable to her wishes.A bright morning so early in the year, she allowed,would generally turn to rain, but a cloudy one foretoldimprovement as the day advanced. She applied toMr. Allen for confirmation of her hopes, but Mr. Allen,not having his own skies and barometer about him,declined giving any absolute promise of sunshine.She applied to Mrs. Allen, and Mrs. Allen's opinion wasmore positive. "She had no doubt in the world of itsbeing a very fine day, if the clouds would only go off,and the sun keep out."

　　At about eleven o'clock, however, a few specks of smallrain upon the windows caught Catherine's watchful eye,and "Oh! dear, I do believe it will be wet," broke fromher in a most desponding tone.

　　"I thought how it would be," said Mrs. Allen.

　　"No walk for me today," sighed Catherine; "but perhapsit may come to nothing, or it may hold up before twelve."

　　"Perhaps it may, but then, my dear, it will be so dirty."

　　"Oh! That will not signify; I never mind dirt."

　　"No," replied her friend very placidly, "I know younever mind dirt."

　　After a short pause, "It comes on faster and faster!"said Catherine, as she stood watching at a window.

　　"So it does indeed. If it keeps raining, the streetswill be very wet."

　　"There are four umbrellas up already. How I hatethe sight of an umbrella!"

　　"They are disagreeable things to carry. I wouldmuch rather take a chair at any time."

　　"It was such a nice-looking morning! I feltso convinced it would be dry!"

　　"Anybody would have thought so indeed. There willbe very few people in the pump-room, if it rains allthe morning. I hope Mr. Allen will put on his greatcoatwhen he goes, but I dare say he will not, for he had ratherdo anything in the world than walk out in a greatcoat;I wonder he should dislike it, it must be so comfortable."

　　The rain continued--fast, though not heavy.Catherine went every five minutes to the clock,threatening on each return that, if it still kept onraining another five minutes, she would give up the matteras hopeless. The clock struck twelve, and it still rained."You will not be able to go, my dear."

　　"I do not quite despair yet. I shall not giveit up till a quarter after twelve. This is justthe time of day for it to clear up, and I do think itlooks a little lighter. There, it is twenty minutesafter twelve, and now I shall give it up entirely.Oh! That we had such weather here as they had at Udolpho,or at least in Tuscany and the south of France!--thenight that poor St. Aubin died!--such beautiful weather!"

　　At half past twelve, when Catherine's anxious attentionto the weather was over and she could no longer claimany merit from its amendment, the sky began voluntarilyto clear. A gleam of sunshine took her quite by surprise;she looked round; the clouds were parting, and she instantlyreturned to the window to watch over and encourage thehappy appearance. Ten minutes more made it certain that abright afternoon would succeed, and justified the opinionof Mrs. Allen, who had "always thought it would clear up."But whether Catherine might still expect her friends,whether there had not been too much rain for Miss Tilneyto venture, must yet be a question.

　　It was too dirty for Mrs. Allen to accompany herhusband to the pump-room; he accordingly set off by himself,and Catherine had barely watched him down the streetwhen her notice was claimed by the approach of the sametwo open carriages, containing the same three peoplethat had surprised her so much a few mornings back.

　　"Isabella, my brother, and Mr. Thorpe, I declare!They are coming for me perhaps--but I shall not go--Icannot go indeed, for you know Miss Tilney may still call."Mrs. Allen agreed to it. John Thorpe was soon with them,and his voice was with them yet sooner, for on thestairs he was calling out to Miss Morland to be quick."Make haste! Make haste!" as he threw open the door."Put on your hat this moment--there is no time to be lost--weare going to Bristol. How d'ye do, Mrs. Allen?"

　　"To Bristol! Is not that a great way off? But,however, I cannot go with you today, because I am engaged;I expect some friends every moment." This was of coursevehemently talked down as no reason at all; Mrs. Allenwas called on to second him, and the two others walked in,to give their assistance. "My sweetest Catherine, is notthis delightful? We shall have a most heavenly drive.You are to thank your brother and me for the scheme;it darted into our heads at breakfast-time, I verilybelieve at the same instant; and we should have been offtwo hours ago if it had not been for this detestable rain.But it does not signify, the nights are moonlight, and weshall do delightfully. Oh! I am in such ecstasies at thethoughts of a little country air and quiet! So much betterthan going to the Lower Rooms. We shall drive directlyto Clifton and dine there; and, as soon as dinner is over,if there is time for it, go on to Kingsweston."

　　"I doubt our being able to do so much," said Morland.

　　"You croaking fellow!" cried Thorpe. "We shallbe able to do ten times more. Kingsweston! Aye,and Blaize Castle too, and anything else we can hear of;but here is your sister says she will not go."

　　"Blaize Castle!" cried Catherine. "What is that'?"

　　"The finest place in England--worth going fiftymiles at any time to see."

　　"What, is it really a castle, an old castle?"

　　"The oldest in the kingdom."

　　"But is it like what one reads of?"

　　"Exactly--the very same."

　　"But now really--are there towers and long galleries?"

　　"By dozens."

　　"Then I should like to see it; but I cannot--Icannot go.

　　"Not go! My beloved creature, what do you mean'?"

　　"I cannot go, because"--looking down as she spoke,fearful of Isabella's smile--"I expect Miss Tilneyand her brother to call on me to take a country walk.They promised to come at twelve, only it rained; but now,as it is so fine, I dare say they will be here soon."

　　"Not they indeed," cried Thorpe; "for, as we turnedinto Broad Street, I saw them--does he not drive a phaetonwith bright chestnuts?"

　　"I do not know indeed."

　　"Yes, I know he does; I saw him. You are talkingof the man you danced with last night, are not you?"

　　"Yes.

　　"Well, I saw him at that momentturn up the Lansdown Road, driving a smart-looking girl."

　　"Did you indeed?"

　　"Did upon my soul; knew him again directly, and heseemed to have got some very pretty cattle too."

　　"It is very odd! But I suppose they thought it wouldbe too dirty for a walk."

　　"And well they might, for I never saw so much dirtin my life. Walk! You could no more walk than youcould fly! It has not been so dirty the whole winter;it is ankle-deep everywhere."

　　Isabella corroborated it: "My dearest Catherine,you cannot form an idea of the dirt; come, you must go;you cannot refuse going now."

　　"I should like to see the castle; but may we goall over it? May we go up every staircase, and into everysuite of rooms?"

　　"Yes, yes, every hole and corner."

　　"But then, if they should only be gone out foran hour till it is dryer, and call by and by?"

　　"Make yourself easy, there is no danger of that,for I heard Tilney hallooing to a man who was just passingby on horseback, that they were going as far as Wick Rocks."

　　"Then I will. Shall I go, Mrs. Allen?"

　　"Just as you please, my dear."

　　"Mrs. Allen, you must persuade her to go,"was the general cry. Mrs. Allen was not inattentiveto it: "Well, my dear," said she, "suppose you go."And in two minutes they were off.

　　Catherine's feelings, as she got into the carriage,were in a very unsettled state; divided between regretfor the loss of one great pleasure, and the hope of soonenjoying another, almost its equal in degree, however unlikein kind. She could not think the Tilneys had acted quitewell by her, in so readily giving up their engagement,without sending her any message of excuse. It was nowbut an hour later than the time fixed on for the beginningof their walk; and, in spite of what she had heard of theprodigious accumulation of dirt in the course of that hour,she could not from her own observation help thinkingthat they might have gone with very little inconvenience.To feel herself slighted by them was very painful.On the other hand, the delight of exploring an edificelike Udolpho, as her fancy represented Blaize Castle to be,was such a counterpoise of good as might console her foralmost anything.

　　They passed briskly down Pulteney Street, and throughLaura Place, without the exchange of many words.Thorpe talked to his horse, and she meditated, by turns,on broken promises and broken arches, phaetons andfalse hangings, Tilneys and trap-doors. As they enteredArgyle Buildings, however, she was roused by this addressfrom her companion, "Who is that girl who looked at youso hard as she went by?"

　　"Who? Where?"

　　"On the right-hand pavement--she must be almostout of sight now." Catherine looked round and saw MissTilney leaning on her brother's arm, walking slowly downthe street. She saw them both looking back at her."Stop, stop, Mr. Thorpe," she impatiently cried;"it is Miss Tilney; it is indeed. How could you tell methey were gone? Stop, stop, I will get out this momentand go to them." But to what purpose did she speak? Thorpeonly lashed his horse into a brisker trot; the Tilneys,who had soon ceased to look after her, were in a momentout of sight round the corner of Laura Place, and in anothermoment she was herself whisked into the marketplace.Still, however, and during the length of another street,she entreated him to stop. "Pray, pray stop, Mr. Thorpe.I cannot go on. I will not go on. I must go back toMiss Tilney." But Mr. Thorpe only laughed, smacked his whip,encouraged his horse, made odd noises, and drove on;and Catherine, angry and vexed as she was, having nopower of getting away, was obliged to give up the pointand submit. Her reproaches, however, were not spared."How could you deceive me so, Mr. Thorpe? How could yousay that you saw them driving up the Lansdown Road? Iwould not have had it happen so for the world. They mustthink it so strange, so rude of me! To go by them, too,without saying a word! You do not know how vexed I am;I shall have no pleasure at Clifton, nor in anything else.I had rather, ten thousand times rather, get out now,and walk back to them. How could you say you saw them drivingout in a phaeton?" Thorpe defended himself very stoutly,declared he had never seen two men so much alike in his life,and would hardly give up the point of its having beenTilney himself.

　　Their drive, even when this subject was over, was notlikely to be very agreeable. Catherine's complaisancewas no longer what it had been in their former airing.She listened reluctantly, and her replies were short.Blaize Castle remained her only comfort; towards that,she still looked at intervals with pleasure; though ratherthan be disappointed of the promised walk, and especiallyrather than be thought ill of by the Tilneys, she wouldwillingly have given up all the happiness which its wallscould supply--the happiness of a progress through a longsuite of lofty rooms, exhibiting the remains of magnificentfurniture, though now for many years deserted--the happinessof being stopped in their way along narrow, winding vaults,by a low, grated door; or even of having their lamp,their only lamp, extinguished by a sudden gust of wind,and of being left in total darkness. In the meanwhile,they proceeded on their journey without any mischance,and were within view of the town of Keynsham, when a halloofrom Morland, who was behind them, made his friend pull up,to know what was the matter. The others then came closeenough for conversation, and Morland said, "We hadbetter go back, Thorpe; it is too late to go on today;your sister thinks so as well as I. We have been exactlyan hour coming from Pulteney Street, very little morethan seven miles; and, I suppose, we have at least eightmore to go. It will never do. We set out a great dealtoo late. We had much better put it off till another day,and turn round."

　　"It is all one to me," replied Thorpe rather angrily;and instantly turning his horse, they were on their wayback to Bath.

　　"If your brother had not got such a d-- beast to drive,"said he soon afterwards, "we might have done it very well.My horse would have trotted to Clifton within the hour,if left to himself, and I have almost broke my arm withpulling him in to that cursed broken-winded jade's pace.Morland is a fool for not keeping a horse and gig ofhis own."

　　"No, he is not," said Catherine warmly, "for I amsure he could not afford it."

　　"And why cannot he afford it?"

　　"Because he has not money enough."

　　"And whose fault is that?"

　　"Nobody's, that I know of." Thorpe then said somethingin the loud, incoherent way to which he had often recourse,about its being a d-- thing to be miserly; and that ifpeople who rolled in money could not afford things,he did not know who could, which Catherine did not evenendeavour to understand. Disappointed of what was tohave been the consolation for her first disappointment,she was less and less disposed either to be agreeableherself or to find her companion so; and they returnedto Pulteney Street without her speaking twenty words.

　　As she entered the house, the footman told her that agentleman and lady had catted and inquired for her a fewminutes after her setting off; that, when he told them shewas gone out with Mr. Thorpe, the lady had asked whetherany message had been left for her; and on his saying no,had felt for a card, but said she had none about her,and went away. Pondering over these heart-rending tidings,Catherine walked slowly upstairs. At the head of themshe was met by Mr. Allen, who, on hearing the reasonof their speedy return, said, "I am glad your brotherhad so much sense; I am glad you are come back.It was a strange, wild scheme."

　　They all spent the evening together at Thorpe's.Catherine was disturbed and out of spirits; but Isabellaseemed to find a pool of commerce, in the fate ofwhich she shared, by private partnership with Morland,a very good equivalent for the quiet and country airof an inn at Clifton. Her satisfaction, too, in notbeing at the Lower Rooms was spoken more than once."How I pity the poor creatures that are going there! Howglad I am that I am not amongst them! I wonder whetherit will be a full ball or not! They have not begundancing yet. I would not be there for all the world.It is so delightful to have an evening now and thento oneself. I dare say it will not be a very good ball.I know the Mitchells will not be there. I am sure Ipity everybody that is. But I dare say, Mr. Morland,you long to be at it, do not you? I am sure you do.Well, pray do not let anybody here be a restraint on you.I dare say we could do very well without you; but you menthink yourselves of such consequence."

　　Catherine could almost have accused Isabella of beingwanting in tenderness towards herself and her sorrows,so very little did they appear to dwell on her mind,and so very inadequate was the comfort she offered."Do not be so dull, my dearest creature," she whispered."You will quite break my heart. It was amazingly shocking,to be sure; but the Tilneys were entirely to blame.Why were not they more punctual? It was dirty, indeed,but what did that signify? I am sure John and I shouldnot have minded it. I never mind going through anything,where a friend is concerned; that is my disposition,and John is just the same; he has amazing strong feelings.Good heavens! What a delightful hand you have got! Kings,I vow! I never was so happy in my life! I would fifty timesrather you should have them than myself."

　　And now I may dismiss my heroine to thesleepless couch, which is the true heroine's portion;to a pillow strewed with thorns and wet with tears.And lucky may she think herself, if she get anothergood night's rest in the course of the next three months.