Chapter 15

by Jane Austen

　　Early the next day, a note from Isabella,speaking peace and tenderness in every line, and entreatingthe immediate presence of her friend on a matter of theutmost importance, hastened Catherine, in the happieststate of confidence and curiosity, to Edgar's Buildings.The two youngest Miss Thorpes were by themselves inthe parlour; and, on Anne's quitting it to call her sister,Catherine took the opportunity of asking the otherfor some particulars of their yesterday's party.Maria desired no greater pleasure than to speak of it;and Catherine immediately learnt that it had been altogetherthe most delightful scheme in the world, that nobodycould imagine how charming it had been, and that ithad been more delightful than anybody could conceive.Such was the information of the first five minutes;the second unfolded thus much in detail--that they had drivendirectly to the York Hotel, ate some soup, and bespokean early dinner, walked down to the pump-room, tastedthe water, and laid out some shillings in purses and spars;thence adjoined to eat ice at a pastry-cook's, and hurryingback to the hotel, swallowed their dinner in haste,to prevent being in the dark; and then had a delightfuldrive back, only the moon was not up, and it rained a little,and Mr. Morland's horse was so tired he could hardly get it along.

　　Catherine listened with heartfelt satisfaction.It appeared that Blaize Castle had never been thought of;and, as for all the rest, there was nothing to regretfor half an instant. Maria's intelligence concludedwith a tender effusion of pity for her sister Anne,whom she represented as insupportably cross, from beingexcluded the party.

　　"She will never forgive me, I am sure; but, you know,how could I help it? John would have me go, for he vowed hewould not drive her, because she had such thick ankles.I dare say she will not be in good humour again this month;but I am determined I will not be cross; it is not a littlematter that puts me out of temper."

　　Isabella now entered the room with so eager a step,and a look of such happy importance, as engaged all herfriend's notice. Maria was without ceremony sent away,and Isabella, embracing Catherine, thus began: "Yes,my dear Catherine, it is so indeed; your penetration hasnot deceived you. Oh! That arch eye of yours! It seesthrough everything."

　　Catherine replied only by a look of wondering ignorance.

　　"Nay, my beloved, sweetest friend," continued the other,"compose yourself. I am amazingly agitated, as you perceive.Let us sit down and talk in comfort. Well, and so youguessed it the moment you had my note? Sly creature!Oh! My dear Catherine, you alone, who know my heart,can judge of my present happiness. Your brother is the mostcharming of men. I only wish I were more worthy of him.But what will your excellent father and mother say? Oh!Heavens! When I think of them I am so agitated!"

　　Catherine's understanding began to awake: an ideaof the truth suddenly darted into her mind; and, with thenatural blush of so new an emotion, she cried out,"Good heaven! My dear Isabella, what do you mean? Canyou--can you really be in love with James?"

　　This bold surmise, however, she soon learntcomprehended but half the fact. The anxious affection,which she was accused of having continually watchedin Isabella's every look and action, had, in the courseof their yesterday's party, received the delightfulconfession of an equal love. Her heart and faith werealike engaged to James. Never had Catherine listenedto anything so full of interest, wonder, and joy.Her brother and her friend engaged! New to such circumstances,the importance of it appeared unspeakably great, and shecontemplated it as one of those grand events, of whichthe ordinary course of life can hardly afford a return.The strength of her feelings she could not express;the nature of them, however, contented her friend.The happiness of having such a sister was their first effusion,and the fair ladies mingled in embraces and tears of joy.

　　Delighting, however, as Catherine sincerely didin the prospect of the connection, it must be acknowledgedthat Isabella far surpassed her in tender anticipations."You will be so infinitely dearer to me, my Catherine,than either Anne or Maria: I feel that I shall be so muchmore attached to my dear Morland's family than to my own."

　　This was a pitch of friendship beyond Catherine.

　　"You are so like your dear brother," continued Isabella,"that I quite doted on you the first moment I saw you.But so it always is with me; the first momentsettles everything. The very first day that Morland cameto us last Christmas--the very first moment I beheldhim--my heart was irrecoverably gone. I remember I woremy yellow gown, with my hair done up in braids; and when Icame into the drawing-room, and John introduced him,I thought I never saw anybody so handsome before."

　　Here Catherine secretly acknowledged the powerof love; for, though exceedingly fond of her brother,and partial to all his endowments, she had never in herlife thought him handsome.

　　"I remember too, Miss Andrews drank tea with usthat evening, and wore her puce-coloured sarsenet;and she looked so heavenly that I thought your brothermust certainly fall in love with her; I could not sleepa wink all right for thinking of it. Oh! Catherine,the many sleepless nights I have had on your brother'saccount! I would not have you suffer half what I have done!I am grown wretchedly thin, I know; but I will not painyou by describing my anxiety; you have seen enough of it.I feel that I have betrayed myself perpetually--so unguardedin speaking of my partiality for the church! But my secretI was always sure would be safe with you."

　　Catherine felt that nothing could have been safer;but ashamed of an ignorance little expected, she daredno longer contest the point, nor refuse to have beenas full of arch penetration and affectionate sympathyas Isabella chose to consider her. Her brother, she found,was preparing to set off with all speed to Fullerton,to make known his situation and ask consent; and here wasa source of some real agitation to the mind of Isabella.Catherine endeavoured to persuade her, as she washerself persuaded, that her father and mother wouldnever oppose their son's wishes. "It is impossible,"said she, "for parents to be more kind, or more desirousof their children's happiness; I have no doubt of theirconsenting immediately."

　　"Morland says exactly the same," replied Isabella;"and yet I dare not expect it; my fortune will be so small;they never can consent to it. Your brother, who mightmarry anybody!"

　　Here Catherine again discerned the force of love.

　　"Indeed, Isabella, you are too humble. The differenceof fortune can be nothing to signify."

　　"Oh! My sweet Catherine, in your generous heart Iknow it would signify nothing; but we must not expectsuch disinterestedness in many. As for myself, I am sureI only wish our situations were reversed. Had I thecommand of millions, were I mistress of the whole world,your brother would be my only choice."

　　This charming sentiment, recommended as much by senseas novelty, gave Catherine a most pleasing remembrance of allthe heroines of her acquaintance; and she thought her friendnever looked more lovely than in uttering the grand idea."I am sure they will consent," was her frequent declaration;"I am sure they will be delighted with you."

　　"For my own part," said Isabella, "my wishes are so moderatethat the smallest income in nature would be enough for me.Where people are really attached, poverty itself is wealth;grandeur I detest: I would not settle in London for the universe.A cottage in some retired village would be ecstasy.There are some charming little villas about Richmond."

　　"Richmond!" cried Catherine. "You must settlenear Fullerton. You must be near us."

　　"I am sure I shall be miserable if we do not.If I can but be near you, I shall be satisfied.But this is idle talking! I will not allow myself to thinkof such things, till we have your father's answer.Morland says that by sending it tonight to Salisbury,we may have it tomorrow. Tomorrow? I know I shall never havecourage to open the letter. I know it will be the deathof me."

　　A reverie succeeded this conviction--and whenIsabella spoke again, it was to resolve on the qualityof her wedding-gown.

　　Their conference was put an end to by the anxiousyoung lover himself, who came to breathe his parting sighbefore he set off for Wiltshire. Catherine wished tocongratulate him, but knew not what to say, and her eloquencewas only in her eyes. From them, however, the eight partsof speech shone out most expressively, and James couldcombine them with ease. Impatient for the realizationof all that he hoped at home, his adieus were not long;and they would have been yet shorter, had he not beenfrequently detained by the urgent entreaties of his fairone that he would go. Twice was he called almost from thedoor by her eagerness to have him gone. "Indeed, Morland,I must drive you away. Consider how far you have to ride.I cannot bear to see you linger so. For heaven's sake,waste no more time. There, go, go--I insist on it."

　　The two friends, with hearts now more united than ever,were inseparable for the day; and in schemes of sisterlyhappiness the hours flew along. Mrs. Thorpe and her son,who were acquainted with everything, and who seemed onlyto want Mr. Morland's consent, to consider Isabella'sengagement as the most fortunate circumstance imaginablefor their family, were allowed to join their counsels,and add their quota of significant looks and mysteriousexpressions to fill up the measure of curiosityto be raised in the unprivileged younger sisters.To Catherine's simple feelings, this odd sort of reserveseemed neither kindly meant, nor consistently supported;and its unkindness she would hardly have forbornepointing out, had its inconsistency been less their friend;but Anne and Maria soon set her heart at ease by thesagacity of their "I know what"; and the evening was spentin a sort of war of wit, a display of family ingenuity,on one side in the mystery of an affected secret,on the other of undefined discovery, all equally acute.

　　Catherine was with her friend again the next day,endeavouring to support her spirits and while away themany tedious hours before the delivery of the letters;a needful exertion, for as the time of reasonable expectationdrew near, Isabella became more and more desponding,and before the letter arrived, had worked herselfinto a state of real distress. But when it did come,where could distress be found? "I have had no difficultyin gaining the consent of my kind parents, and ampromised that everything in their power shall be doneto forward my happiness," were the first three lines,and in one moment all was joyful security. The brightestglow was instantly spread over Isabella's features,all care and anxiety seemed removed, her spirits becamealmost too high for control, and she called herself withoutscruple the happiest of mortals.

　　Mrs. Thorpe, with tears of joy, embraced her daughter,her son, her visitor, and could have embraced halfthe inhabitants of Bath with satisfaction. Her heartwas overflowing with tenderness. It was "dear John"and "dear Catherine" at every word; "dear Anne and dear Maria"must immediately be made sharers in their felicity;and two "dears" at once before the name of Isabella werenot more than that beloved child had now well earned.John himself was no skulker in joy. He not only bestowedon Mr. Morland the high commendation of being one of thefinest fellows in the world, but swore off many sentencesin his praise.

　　The letter, whence sprang all this felicity, was short,containing little more than this assurance of success;and every particular was deferred till James could write again.But for particulars Isabella could well afford to wait.The needful was comprised in Mr. Morland's promise;his honour was pledged to make everything easy; and bywhat means their income was to be formed, whether landedproperty were to be resigned, or funded money made over,was a matter in which her disinterested spirit tookno concern. She knew enough to feel secure of an honourableand speedy establishment, and her imagination took a rapidflight over its attendant felicities. She saw herself atthe end of a few weeks, the gaze and admiration of everynew acquaintance at Fullerton, the envy of every valuedold friend in Putney, with a carriage at her command,a new name on her tickets, and a brilliant exhibitionof hoop rings on her finger.

　　When the contents of the letter were ascertained,John Thorpe, who had only waited its arrival to begin hisjourney to London, prepared to set off. "Well, Miss Morland,"said he, on finding her alone in the parlour, "I am cometo bid you good-bye." Catherine wished him a good journey.Without appearing to hear her, he walked to the window,fidgeted about, hummed a tune, and seemed whollyself-occupied.

　　"Shall not you be late at Devizes?" said Catherine.He made no answer; but after a minute's silence burstout with, "A famous good thing this marrying scheme,upon my soul! A clever fancy of Morland's and Belle's.What do you think of it, Miss Morland? I say it is nobad notion."

　　"I am sure I think it a very good one."

　　"Do you? That's honest, by heavens! I am glad youare no enemy to matrimony, however. Did you ever hearthe old song 'Going to One Wedding Brings on Another?'I say, you will come to Belle's wedding, I hope."

　　"Yes; I have promised your sister to be with her,if possible."

　　"And then you know"--twisting himself aboutand forcing a foolish laugh--"I say, then you know,we may try the truth of this same old song."

　　"May we? But I never sing. Well, I wish you a good journey.I dine with Miss Tilney today, and must now be going home."

　　"Nay, but there is no such confounded hurry.Who knows when we may be together again? Not but that Ishall be down again by the end of a fortnight, and adevilish long fortnight it will appear to me."

　　"Then why do you stay away so long?"replied Catherine--finding that he waited for an answer.

　　"That is kind of you, however--kind and good-natured.I shall not forget it in a hurry. But you have more goodnature and all that, than anybody living, I believe.A monstrous deal of good nature, and it is not onlygood nature, but you have so much, so much of everything;and then you have such-- upon my soul, I do not knowanybody like you."

　　"Oh! dear, there are a great many people like me,I dare say, only a great deal better. Good morningto you."

　　"But I say, Miss Morland, I shall come and pay myrespects at Fullerton before it is long, if not disagreeable."

　　"Pray do. My father and mother will be very gladto see you."

　　"And I hope--I hope, Miss Morland, you will notbe sorry to see me."

　　"Oh! dear, not at all. There are very few peopleI am sorry to see. Company is always cheerful."

　　"That is just my way of thinking. Give me but a littlecheerful company, let me only have the company of the peopleI love, let me only be where I like and with whom I like,and the devil take the rest, say I. And I am heartilyglad to hear you say the same. But I have a notion,Miss Morland, you and I think pretty much alike uponmost matters."

　　"Perhaps we may; but it is more than I ever thought of.And as to most matters, to say the truth, there are notmany that I know my own mind about."

　　"By Jove, no more do I. It is not my way to bothermy brains with what does not concern me. My notionof things is simple enough. Let me only have the girlI like, say I, with a comfortable house over my head,and what care I for all the rest? Fortune is nothing.I am sure of a good income of my own; and if she had nota penny, why, so much the better."

　　"Very true. I think like you there. If there is a goodfortune on one side, there can be no occasion for any onthe other. No matter which has it, so that there is enough.I hate the idea of one great fortune looking out for another.And to marry for money I think the wickedest thingin existence. Good day. We shall be very glad to seeyou at Fullerton, whenever it is convenient." And awayshe went. It was not in the power of all his gallantryto detain her longer. With such news to communicate,and such a visit to prepare for, her departure was notto be delayed by anything in his nature to urge; and shehurried away, leaving him to the undivided consciousnessof his own happy address, and her explicit encouragement.

　　The agitation which she had herself experiencedon first learning her brother's engagement made herexpect to raise no inconsiderable emotion in Mr. andMrs. Allen, by the communication of the wonderful event.How great was her disappointment! The important affair,which many words of preparation ushered in, had beenforeseen by them both ever since her brother's arrival;and all that they felt on the occasion was comprehendedin a wish for the young people's happiness, with a remark,on the gentleman's side, in favour of Isabella's beauty,and on the lady's, of her great good luck. It was toCatherine the most surprising insensibility. The disclosure,however, of the great secret of James's going to Fullertonthe day before, did raise some emotion in Mrs. Allen.She could not listen to that with perfect calmness,but repeatedly regretted the necessity of its concealment,wished she could have known his intention, wished she couldhave seen him before he went, as she should certainly havetroubled him with her best regards to his father and mother,and her kind compliments to all the Skinners.