Chapter 9

by Jane Austen

　　The progress of Catherine's unhappiness from theevents of the evening was as follows. It appeared firstin a general dissatisfaction with everybody about her,while she remained in the rooms, which speedily broughton considerable weariness and a violent desire to go home.This, on arriving in Pulteney Street, took the directionof extraordinary hunger, and when that was appeased,changed into an earnest longing to be in bed; such wasthe extreme point of her distress; for when thereshe immediately fell into a sound sleep which lastednine hours, and from which she awoke perfectly revived,in excellent spirits, with fresh hopes and fresh schemes.The first wish of her heart was to improve her acquaintancewith Miss Tilney, and almost her first resolution,to seek her for that purpose, in the pump-room at noon.In the pump-room, one so newly arrived in Bath mustbe met with, and that building she had already foundso favourable for the discovery of female excellence,and the completion of female intimacy, so admirably adaptedfor secret discourses and unlimited confidence, that shewas most reasonably encouraged to expect another friend fromwithin its walls. Her plan for the morning thus settled,she sat quietly down to her book after breakfast,resolving to remain in the same place and the same employmenttill the clock struck one; and from habitude very littleincommoded by the remarks and ejaculations of Mrs. Allen,whose vacancy of mind and incapacity for thinking were such,that as she never talked a great deal, so she could never beentirely silent; and, therefore, while she sat at her work,if she lost her needle or broke her thread, if she hearda carriage in the street, or saw a speck upon her gown,she must observe it aloud, whether there were anyone atleisure to answer her or not. At about half past twelve,a remarkably loud rap drew her in haste to the window,and scarcely had she time to inform Catherine of therebeing two open carriages at the door, in the first onlya servant, her brother driving Miss Thorpe in the second,before John Thorpe came running upstairs, calling out,"Well, Miss Morland, here I am. Have you been waitinglong? We could not come before; the old devil of acoachmaker was such an eternity finding out a thingfit to be got into, and now it is ten thousand to onebut they break down before we are out of the street.How do you do, Mrs. Allen? A famous bag last night,was not it? Come, Miss Morland, be quick, for the othersare in a confounded hurry to be off. They want to get theirtumble over."

　　"What do you mean?" said Catherine. "Where are youall going to?" "Going to? Why, you have not forgot ourengagement! Did not we agree together to take a drive thismorning? What a head you have! We are going up Claverton Down."

　　"Something was said about it, I remember,"said Catherine, looking at Mrs. Allen for her opinion;"but really I did not expect you."

　　"Not expect me! That's a good one! And what a dustyou would have made, if I had not come."

　　Catherine's silent appeal to her friend, meanwhile,was entirely thrown away, for Mrs. Allen, not being at allin the habit of conveying any expression herself by a look,was not aware of its being ever intended by anybody else;and Catherine, whose desire of seeing Miss Tilney again couldat that moment bear a short delay in favour of a drive,and who thought there could be no impropriety in her goingwith Mr. Thorpe, as Isabella was going at the same timewith James, was therefore obliged to speak plainer."Well, ma'am, what do you say to it? Can you spare mefor an hour or two? Shall I go?"

　　"Do just as you please, my dear," replied Mrs. Allen,with the most placid indifference. Catherine tookthe advice, and ran off to get ready. In a very few minutesshe reappeared, having scarcely allowed the two others timeenough to get through a few short sentences in her praise,after Thorpe had procured Mrs. Allen's admiration of his gig;and then receiving her friend's parting good wishes,they both hurried downstairs. "My dearest creature,"cried Isabella, to whom the duty of friendship immediatelycalled her before she could get into the carriage,"you have been at least three hours getting ready.I was afraid you were ill. What a delightful ball wehad last night. I have a thousand things to say to you;but make haste and get in, for I long to be off."

　　Catherine followed her orders and turned away,but not too soon to hear her friend exclaim aloud to James,"What a sweet girl she is! I quite dote on her."

　　"You will not be frightened, Miss Morland," said Thorpe,as he handed her in, "if my horse should dance abouta little at first setting off. He will, most likely,give a plunge or two, and perhaps take the rest for a minute;but he will soon know his master. He is full of spirits,playful as can be, but there is no vice in him."

　　Catherine did not think the portrait a very inviting one,but it was too late to retreat, and she was too young to ownherself frightened; so, resigning herself to her fate,and trusting to the animal's boasted knowledge of its owner,she sat peaceably down, and saw Thorpe sit down by her.Everything being then arranged, the servant who stood at thehorse's head was bid in an important voice "to let him go,"and off they went in the quietest manner imaginable,without a plunge or a caper, or anything like one.Catherine, delighted at so happy an escape, spoke herpleasure aloud with grateful surprise; and her companionimmediately made the matter perfectly simple by assuringher that it was entirely owing to the peculiarly judiciousmanner in which he had then held the reins, and the singulardiscernment and dexterity with which he had directedhis whip. Catherine, though she could not help wonderingthat with such perfect command of his horse, he should thinkit necessary to alarm her with a relation of its tricks,congratulated herself sincerely on being under the careof so excellent a coachman; and perceiving that the animalcontinued to go on in the same quiet manner, without showingthe smallest propensity towards any unpleasant vivacity,and (considering its inevitable pace was ten miles an hour)by no means alarmingly fast, gave herself up to all theenjoyment of air and exercise of the most invigorating kind,in a fine mild day of February, with the consciousnessof safety. A silence of several minutes succeeded theirfirst short dialogue; it was broken by Thorpe's sayingvery abruptly, "Old Allen is as rich as a Jew--is not he?"Catherine did not understand him--and he repeated his question,adding in explanation, "Old Allen, the man you are with."

　　"Oh! Mr. Allen, you mean. Yes, I believe, he isvery rich."

　　"And no children at all?"

　　"No--not any."

　　"A famous thing for his next heirs. He is your godfather,is not he?"

　　"My godfather! No."

　　"But you are always very much with them."

　　"Yes, very much."

　　"Aye, that is what I meant. He seems a good kindof old fellow enough, and has lived very well in his time,I dare say; he is not gouty for nothing. Does he drinkhis bottle a day now?"

　　"His bottle a day! No. Why should you thinkof such a thing? He is a very temperate man, and youcould not fancy him in liquor last night?"

　　"Lord help you! You women are always thinkingof men's being in liquor. Why, you do not supposea man is overset by a bottle? I am sure of this--thatif everybody was to drink their bottle a day, there wouldnot be half the disorders in the world there are now.It would be a famous good thing for us all."

　　"I cannot believe it."

　　"Oh! Lord, it would be the saving of thousands.There is not the hundredth part of the wine consumedin this kingdom that there ought to be. Our foggy climatewants help."

　　"And yet I have heard that there is a great dealof wine drunk in Oxford."

　　"Oxford! There is no drinking at Oxford now,I assure you. Nobody drinks there. You would hardly meetwith a man who goes beyond his four pints at the utmost.Now, for instance, it was reckoned a remarkable thing,at the last party in my rooms, that upon an average wecleared about five pints a head. It was looked uponas something out of the common way. Mine is famousgood stuff, to be sure. You would not often meet withanything like it in Oxford--and that may account for it.But this will just give you a notion of the general rateof drinking there."

　　"Yes, it does give a notion," said Catherine warmly,"and that is, that you all drink a great deal more winethan I thought you did. However, I am sure James doesnot drink so much."

　　This declaration brought on a loud and overpowering reply,of which no part was very distinct, except the frequentexclamations, amounting almost to oaths, which adorned it,and Catherine was left, when it ended, with rather a strengthenedbelief of there being a great deal of wine drunk in Oxford,and the same happy conviction of her brother's comparative sobriety.

　　Thorpe's ideas then all reverted to the meritsof his own equipage, and she was called on to admirethe spirit and freedom with which his horse moved along,and the ease which his paces, as well as the excellenceof the springs, gave the motion of the carriage.She followed him in all his admiration as well as she could.To go before or beyond him was impossible. His knowledgeand her ignorance of the subject, his rapidity of expression,and her diffidence of herself put that out of her power;she could strike out nothing new in commendation,but she readily echoed whatever he chose to assert,and it was finally settled between them without anydifficulty that his equipage was altogether the mostcomplete of its kind in England, his carriage the neatest,his horse the best goer, and himself the best coachman."You do not really think, Mr. Thorpe," said Catherine,venturing after some time to consider the matter asentirely decided, and to offer some little variation onthe subject, "that James's gig will break down?"

　　"Break down! Oh! Lord! Did you ever see such a littletittuppy thing in your life? There is not a sound pieceof iron about it. The wheels have been fairly worn outthese ten years at least--and as for the body! Upon my soul,you might shake it to pieces yourself with a touch.It is the most devilish little rickety business I everbeheld! Thank God! we have got a better. I would not bebound to go two miles in it for fifty thousand pounds."

　　"Good heavens!" cried Catherine, quite frightened."Then pray let us turn back; they will certainly meet withan accident if we go on. Do let us turn back, Mr. Thorpe;stop and speak to my brother, and tell him how very unsafeit is."

　　"Unsafe! Oh, lord! What is there in that? They willonly get a roll if it does break down; and there is plentyof dirt; it will be excellent falling. Oh, curse it! Thecarriage is safe enough, if a man knows how to drive it;a thing of that sort in good hands will last above twentyyears after it is fairly worn out. Lord bless you! Iwould undertake for five pounds to drive it to Yorkand back again, without losing a nail."

　　Catherine listened with astonishment; she knewnot how to reconcile two such very different accountsof the same thing; for she had not been brought upto understand the propensities of a rattle, nor to knowto how many idle assertions and impudent falsehoods theexcess of vanity will lead. Her own family were plain,matter-of-fact people who seldom aimed at wit of any kind;her father, at the utmost, being contented with a pun,and her mother with a proverb; they were not in the habittherefore of telling lies to increase their importance,or of asserting at one moment what they would contradictthe next. She reflected on the affair for some timein much perplexity, and was more than once on the pointof requesting from Mr. Thorpe a clearer insight into hisreal opinion on the subject; but she checked herself,because it appeared to her that he did not excel in givingthose clearer insights, in making those things plainwhich he had before made ambiguous; and, joining to this,the consideration that he would not really sufferhis sister and his friend to be exposed to a dangerfrom which he might easily preserve them, she concludedat last that he must know the carriage to be in factperfectly safe, and therefore would alarm herself no longer.By him the whole matter seemed entirely forgotten;and all the rest of his conversation, or rather talk,began and ended with himself and his own concerns.He told her of horses which he had bought for a trifleand sold for incredible sums; of racing matches,in which his judgment had infallibly foretold the winner;of shooting parties, in which he had killed more birds(though without having one good shot) than all hiscompanions together; and described to her some famousday's sport, with the fox-hounds, in which his foresightand skill in directing the dogs had repaired the mistakesof the most experienced huntsman, and in which the boldnessof his riding, though it had never endangered his ownlife for a moment, had been constantly leading othersinto difficulties, which he calmly concluded had brokenthe necks of many.

　　Little as Catherine was in the habit of judgingfor herself, and unfixed as were her general notions of whatmen ought to be, she could not entirely repress a doubt,while she bore with the effusions of his endless conceit,of his being altogether completely agreeable. It was abold surmise, for he was Isabella's brother; and she hadbeen assured by James that his manners would recommend himto all her sex; but in spite of this, the extreme wearinessof his company, which crept over her before they had beenout an hour, and which continued unceasingly to increasetill they stopped in Pulteney Street again, induced her,in some small degree, to resist such high authority,and to distrust his powers of giving universal pleasure.

　　When they arrived at Mrs. Allen's door, the astonishmentof Isabella was hardly to be expressed, on finding that itwas too late in the day for them to attend her friend intothe house: "Past three o'clock!" It was inconceivable,incredible, impossible! And she would neither believe herown watch, nor her brother's, nor the servant's; she wouldbelieve no assurance of it founded on reason or reality,till Morland produced his watch, and ascertained the fact;to have doubted a moment longer then would have beenequally inconceivable, incredible, and impossible;and she could only protest, over and over again, that notwo hours and a half had ever gone off so swiftly before,as Catherine was called on to confirm; Catherine could nottell a falsehood even to please Isabella; but the latterwas spared the misery of her friend's dissenting voice,by not waiting for her answer. Her own feelings entirelyengrossed her; her wretchedness was most acute on findingherself obliged to go directly home. It was ages since shehad had a moment's conversation with her dearest Catherine;and, though she had such thousands of things to say to her,it appeared as if they were never to be together again;so, with sniffles of most exquisite misery, and the laughingeye of utter despondency, she bade her friend adieu and went on.

　　Catherine found Mrs. Allen just returned from allthe busy idleness of the morning, and was immediatelygreeted with, "Well, my dear, here you are," a truthwhich she had no greater inclination than power to dispute;"and I hope you have had a pleasant airing?"

　　"Yes, ma'am, I thank you; we could not have hada nicer day."

　　"So Mrs. Thorpe said; she was vastly pleasedat your all going."

　　"You have seen Mrs. Thorpe, then?"

　　"Yes, I went to the pump-room as soon as you were gone,and there I met her, and we had a great deal of talk together.She says there was hardly any veal to be got at marketthis morning, it is so uncommonly scarce."

　　"Did you see anybody else of our acquaintance?"

　　"Yes; we agreed to take a turn in the Crescent,and there we met Mrs. Hughes, and Mr. and Miss Tilneywalking with her."

　　"Did you indeed? And did they speak to you?"

　　"Yes, we walked along the Crescent together for halfan hour. They seem very agreeable people. Miss Tilneywas in a very pretty spotted muslin, and I fancy, by what Ican learn, that she always dresses very handsomely.Mrs. Hughes talked to me a great deal about the family."

　　"And what did she tell you of them?"

　　"Oh! A vast deal indeed; she hardly talked of anything else."

　　"Did she tell you what part of Gloucestershire theycome from?"

　　"Yes, she did; but I cannot recollect now. But theyare very good kind of people, and very rich. Mrs. Tilney wasa Miss Drummond, and she and Mrs. Hughes were schoolfellows;and Miss Drummond had a very large fortune; and, when shemarried, her father gave her twenty thousand pounds,and five hundred to buy wedding-clothes. Mrs. Hughessaw all the clothes after they came from the warehouse."

　　"And are Mr. and Mrs. Tilney in Bath?"

　　"Yes, I fancy they are, but I am not quite certain.Upon recollection, however, I have a notion they are both dead;at least the mother is; yes, I am sure Mrs. Tilney is dead,because Mrs. Hughes told me there was a very beautifulset of pearls that Mr. Drummond gave his daughter on herwedding-day and that Miss Tilney has got now, for theywere put by for her when her mother died."

　　"And is Mr. Tilney, my partner, the only son?"

　　"I cannot be quite positive about that, my dear;I have some idea he is; but, however, he is a very fineyoung man, Mrs. Hughes says, and likely to do very well."

　　Catherine inquired no further; she had heard enoughto feel that Mrs. Allen had no real intelligence to give,and that she was most particularly unfortunate herselfin having missed such a meeting with both brotherand sister. Could she have foreseen such a circumstance,nothing should have persuaded her to go out with the others;and, as it was, she could only lament her ill luck,and think over what she had lost, till it was clearto her that the drive had by no means been very pleasantand that John Thorpe himself was quite disagreeable.