Austen Said:

“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 — I cannot go.

“Not go! My beloved creature, what do you mean’?”

“I cannot go, because”

“I expect Miss Tilney and 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,”

“for, as we turned into Broad Street, I saw them — does he not drive a phaeton with bright chestnuts?”

“I do not know indeed.”

“Yes, I know he does; I saw him. You are talking of the man you danced with last night, are not you?”

“Yes.

“Well, I saw him at that moment turn up the Lansdown Road, driving a smart-looking girl.”

“Did you indeed?”

“Did upon my soul; knew him again directly, and he seemed to have got some very pretty cattle too.”

“It is very odd! But I suppose they thought it would be too dirty for a walk.”

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

“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 go all over it? May we go up every staircase, and into every suite of rooms?”

“Yes, yes, every hole and corner.”

“But then, if they should only be gone out for an 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 passing by on horseback,

that

they were going as far as Wick Rocks.”

“Then I will. Shall I go, Mrs. Allen?”

“Mrs. Allen, you must persuade her to go,”

the Tilneys had acted quite well by her, in so readily giving up their engagement, without sending her any message of excuse. It was now but an hour later than the time fixed on for the beginning of their walk;

they might have gone with very little inconvenience.

“Who is that girl who looked at you so hard as she went by?”

“Who? Where?”

“On the right-hand pavement — she must be almost out of sight now.”

“Stop, stop, Mr. Thorpe,”

“it is Miss Tilney; it is indeed. How could you tell me they were gone? Stop, stop, I will get out this moment and go to them.”

“Pray, pray stop, Mr. Thorpe. I cannot go on. I will not go on. I must go back to Miss Tilney.”

“How could you deceive me so, Mr. Thorpe? How could you say that you saw them driving up the Lansdown Road? I would not have had it happen so for the world. They must think 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 driving out in a phaeton?”

he had never seen two men so much alike in his life,

what was the matter.

“We had better go back, Thorpe; it is too late to go on today; your sister thinks so as well as I. We have been exactly an hour coming from Pulteney Street, very little more than seven miles; and, I suppose, we have at least eight more to go. It will never do. We set out a great deal too late. We had much better put it off till another day, and turn round.”

“It is all one to me,”

“If your brother had not got such a d — beast to drive,”

“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 with pulling him in to that cursed broken-winded jade’s pace. Morland is a fool for not keeping a horse and gig of his own.”

“No, he is not,”

“for I am sure he could not afford it.”

“And why cannot he afford it?”

“Because he has not money enough.”

“And whose fault is that?”