Austen Said:

“By heavens, if they do not, I will kick them out of the room for blockheads. What chap have you there?”

“Tilney,”

“Hum — I do not know him. A good figure of a man; well put together. Does he want a horse? Here is a friend of mine, Sam Fletcher, has got one to sell that would suit anybody. A famous clever animal for the road — only forty guineas. I had fifty minds to buy it myself, for it is one of my maxims always to buy a good horse when I meet with one; but it would not answer my purpose, it would not do for the field. I would give any money for a real good hunter. I have three now, the best that ever were backed. I would not take eight hundred guineas for them. Fletcher and I mean to get a house in Leicestershire, against the next season. It is so d — uncomfortable, living at an inn.”

“Make haste! Make haste!”

“Put on your hat this moment — there is no time to be lost — we are going to Bristol. How d’ye do, Mrs. Allen?”

“You croaking fellow!”

“We shall be 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.”

“The finest place in England — worth going fifty miles at any time to see.”

“The oldest in the kingdom.”

“Exactly — the very same.”

“By dozens.”

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

“Not they indeed,”

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

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

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

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

“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.”

“Yes, yes, every hole and corner.”

“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

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

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

“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.”

“And why cannot he afford it?”

“And whose fault is that?”

“He is a fine old fellow, upon my soul! Stout, active — looks as young as his son. I have a great regard for him, I assure you: a gentleman-like, good sort of fellow as ever lived.”

“Know him! There are few people much about town that I do not know. I have met him forever at the Bedford; and I knew his face again today the moment he came into the billiard-room. One of the best players we have, by the by; and we had a little touch together, though I was almost afraid of him at first: the odds were five to four against me; and, if I had not made one of the cleanest strokes that perhaps ever was made in this world — I took his ball exactly — but I could not make you understand it without a table; however, I did beat him. A very fine fellow; as rich as a Jew. I should like to dine with him; I dare say he gives famous dinners. But what do you think we have been talking of? You. Yes, by heavens! And

the general thinks

“And what do you think I said?”

“well done, general, said I; I am quite of your mind.”

“Thank ye,”

“but I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters about, and look like a fool. No, if you do not go, d — me if I do. I only go for the sake of driving you.”

“Well, I have settled the matter, and now we may all go tomorrow with a safe conscience. I have been to Miss Tilney, and made your excuses.”

“I have, upon my soul. Left her this moment. Told her you had sent me to say that, having just recollected a prior engagement of going to Clifton with us tomorrow, you could not have the pleasure of walking with her till Tuesday.

She said

so there is an end of all our difficulties. A pretty good thought of mine — hey?”

“Well, Miss Morland,”

“I am come to bid you good-bye.”

“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 no bad notion.”

“Do you? That’s honest, by heavens! I am glad you are no enemy to matrimony, however. Did you ever hear the old song ‘Going to One Wedding Brings on Another?’ I say, you will come to Belle’s wedding, I hope.”

“And then you know”

“I say, then you know, we may try the truth of this same old song.”

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

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

“But I say, Miss Morland, I shall come and pay my respects at Fullerton before it is long, if not disagreeable.”