Chapter 18

by Jane Austen

　　With a mind thus full of happiness, Catherine was hardlyaware that two or three days had passed away, without herseeing Isabella for more than a few minutes together.She began first to be sensible of this, and to sighfor her conversation, as she walked along the pump-roomone morning, by Mrs. Allen's side, without anything to sayor to hear; and scarcely had she felt a five minutes'longing of friendship, before the object of it appeared,and inviting her to a secret conference, led the wayto a seat. "This is my favourite place," said she as theysat down on a bench between the doors, which commandeda tolerable view of everybody entering at either;"it is so out of the way."

　　Catherine, observing that Isabella's eyes werecontinually bent towards one door or the other, as ineager expectation, and remembering how often she had beenfalsely accused of being arch, thought the present a fineopportunity for being really so; and therefore gaily said,"Do not be uneasy, Isabella, James will soon be here."

　　"Psha! My dear creature," she replied, "do not thinkme such a simpleton as to be always wanting to confine himto my elbow. It would be hideous to be always together;we should be the jest of the place. And so you aregoing to Northanger! I am amazingly glad of it. It isone of the finest old places in England, I understand.I shall depend upon a most particular description of it."

　　"You shall certainly have the best in my power to give.But who are you looking for? Are your sisters coming?"

　　"I am not looking for anybody. One's eyes mustbe somewhere, and you know what a foolish trick I have offixing mine, when my thoughts are an hundred miles off.I am amazingly absent; I believe I am the most absentcreature in the world. Tilney says it is always the casewith minds of a certain stamp."

　　"But I thought, Isabella, you had somethingin particular to tell me?"

　　"Oh! Yes, and so I have. But here is a proof ofwhat I was saying. My poor head, I had quite forgot it.Well, the thing is this: I have just had a letter from John;you can guess the contents."

　　"No, indeed, I cannot."

　　"My sweet love, do not be so abominably affected.What can he write about, but yourself? You know he is overhead and ears in love with you."

　　"With me, dear Isabella!"

　　"Nay, my sweetest Catherine, this is being quiteabsurd! Modesty, and all that, is very well in its way,but really a little common honesty is sometimes quiteas becoming. I have no idea of being so overstrained!It is fishing for compliments. His attentions weresuch as a child must have noticed. And it was but halfan hour before he left Bath that you gave him the mostpositive encouragement. He says so in this letter,says that he as good as made you an offer, and that youreceived his advances in the kindest way; and now hewants me to urge his suit, and say all manner of prettythings to you. So it is in vain to affect ignorance."

　　Catherine, with all the earnestness of truth,expressed her astonishment at such a charge, protestingher innocence of every thought of Mr. Thorpe's beingin love with her, and the consequent impossibility ofher having ever intended to encourage him. "As to anyattentions on his side, I do declare, upon my honour,I never was sensible of them for a moment--except justhis asking me to dance the first day of his coming.And as to making me an offer, or anything like it,there must be some unaccountable, mistake. I could nothave misunderstood a thing of that kind, you know! And,as I ever wish to be believed, I solemnly protest thatno syllable of such a nature ever passed between us.The last half hour before he went away! It must be alland completely a mistake--for I did not see him oncethat whole morning."

　　"But that you certainly did, for you spent the wholemorning in Edgar's Buildings--it was the day your father'sconsent came--and I am pretty sure that you and John werealone in the parlour some time before you left the house."

　　"Are you? Well, if you say it, it was so, I daresay--but for the life of me, I cannot recollect it.I do remember now being with you, and seeing him aswell as the rest--but that we were ever alone for fiveminutes-- However, it is not worth arguing about,for whatever might pass on his side, you must be convinced,by my having no recollection of it, that I never thought,nor expected, nor wished for anything of the kind from him.I am excessively concerned that he should have any regardfor me--but indeed it has been quite unintentionalon my side; I never had the smallest idea of it.Pray undeceive him as soon as you can, and tell him I beghis pardon--that is--I do not know what I ought to say--butmake him understand what I mean, in the properest way.I would not speak disrespectfully of a brother of yours,Isabella, I am sure; but you know very well that if I couldthink of one man more than another--he is not the person."Isabella was silent. "My dear friend, you must not beangry with me. I cannot suppose your brother caresso very much about me. And, you know, we shall stillbe sisters."

　　"Yes, yes" (with a blush), "there are more waysthan one of our being sisters. But where am I wanderingto? Well, my dear Catherine, the case seems to bethat you are determined against poor John--is not it so?"

　　"I certainly cannot return his affection, and ascertainly never meant to encourage it."

　　"Since that is the case, I am sure I shall nottease you any further. John desired me to speak to youon the subject, and therefore I have. But I confess,as soon as I read his letter, I thought it a very foolish,imprudent business, and not likely to promote the goodof either; for what were you to live upon, supposing youcame together? You have both of you something, to be sure,but it is not a trifle that will support a family nowadays;and after all that romancers may say, there is no doingwithout money. I only wonder John could think of it;he could not have received my last."

　　"You do acquit me, then, of anything wrong?--Youare convinced that I never meant to deceive your brother,never suspected him of liking me till this moment?"

　　"Oh! As to that," answered Isabella laughingly,"I do not pretend to determine what your thoughts anddesigns in time past may have been. All that is best knownto yourself. A little harmless flirtation or so will occur,and one is often drawn on to give more encouragement thanone wishes to stand by. But you may be assured that Iam the last person in the world to judge you severely.All those things should be allowed for in youth andhigh spirits. What one means one day, you know, one maynot mean the next. Circumstances change, opinions alter."

　　"But my opinion of your brother never did alter;it was always the same. You are describing what never happened."

　　"My dearest Catherine," continued the other withoutat all listening to her, "I would not for all the worldbe the means of hurrying you into an engagement before youknew what you were about. I do not think anything wouldjustify me in wishing you to sacrifice all your happinessmerely to oblige my brother, because he is my brother,and who perhaps after all, you know, might be just as happywithout you, for people seldom know what they would be at,young men especially, they are so amazingly changeableand inconstant. What I say is, why should a brother'shappiness be dearer to me than a friend's? You know Icarry my notions of friendship pretty high. But, aboveall things, my dear Catherine, do not be in a hurry.Take my word for it, that if you are in too great a hurry,you will certainly live to repent it. Tilney says thereis nothing people are so often deceived in as the stateof their own affections, and I believe he is very right.Ah! Here he comes; never mind, he will not see us,I am sure."

　　Catherine, looking up, perceived Captain Tilney;and Isabella, earnestly fixing her eye on him as she spoke,soon caught his notice. He approached immediately,and took the seat to which her movements invited him.His first address made Catherine start. Though spoken low,she could distinguish, "What! Always to be watched, in personor by proxy!"

　　"Psha, nonsense!" was Isabella's answer in thesame half whisper. "Why do you put such things intomy head? If I could believe it--my spirit, you know,is pretty independent."

　　"I wish your heart were independent. That wouldbe enough for me."

　　"My heart, indeed! What can you have to do withhearts? You men have none of you any hearts."

　　"If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they giveus torment enough."

　　"Do they? I am sorry for it; I am sorry they findanything so disagreeable in me. I will look another way.I hope this pleases you" (turning her back on him);"I hope your eyes are not tormented now."

　　"Never more so; for the edge of a blooming cheekis still in view--at once too much and too little."

　　Catherine heard all this, and quite out of countenance,could listen no longer. Amazed that Isabella could endure it,and jealous for her brother, she rose up, and saying sheshould join Mrs. Allen, proposed their walking. But for thisIsabella showed no inclination. She was so amazingly tired,and it was so odious to parade about the pump-room;and if she moved from her seat she should miss her sisters;she was expecting her sisters every moment; so that her dearestCatherine must excuse her, and must sit quietly down again.But Catherine could be stubborn too; and Mrs. Allen justthen coming up to propose their returning home, she joinedher and walked out of the pump-room, leaving Isabellastill sitting with Captain Tilney. With much uneasinessdid she thus leave them. It seemed to her that CaptainTilney was falling in love with Isabella, and Isabellaunconsciously encouraging him; unconsciously it must be,for Isabella's attachment to James was as certain andwell acknowledged as her engagement. To doubt her truthor good intentions was impossible; and yet, during thewhole of their conversation her manner had been odd.She wished Isabella had talked more like her usual self,and not so much about money, and had not looked so wellpleased at the sight of Captain Tilney. How strangethat she should not perceive his admiration! Catherinelonged to give her a hint of it, to put her on her guard,and prevent all the pain which her too lively behaviourmight otherwise create both for him and her brother.

　　The compliment of John Thorpe's affection did not makeamends for this thoughtlessness in his sister. She was almostas far from believing as from wishing it to be sincere;for she had not forgotten that he could mistake, and hisassertion of the offer and of her encouragement convincedher that his mistakes could sometimes be very egregious.In vanity, therefore, she gained but little; her chiefprofit was in wonder. That he should think it worthhis while to fancy himself in love with her was a matterof lively astonishment. Isabella talked of his attentions;she had never been sensible of any; but Isabella had saidmany things which she hoped had been spoken in haste,and would never be said again; and upon this she was gladto rest altogether for present ease and comfort.