Austen Said:

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Nay, Catherine. I think you cannot stand out any longer now. The sacrifice is not much; and to oblige such a friend — I shall think you quite unkind, if you still refuse.”

“No, no, no!”

“that could not be, for Thorpe did not know that he might not go to town on Tuesday.”

“Catherine, you must go,”

“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.”

“I did not think you had been so obstinate, Catherine,”

“you were not used to be so hard to persuade; you once were the kindest, best-tempered of my sisters.”

“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?”

“Let her go, let her go, if she will go. She is as obstinate as — ”

“I have had no difficulty in gaining the consent of my kind parents, and am promised that everything in their power shall be done to forward my happiness,”

“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.”

“And I hope — I hope, Miss Morland, you will not be sorry to see me.”

“That is just my way of thinking. Give me but a little cheerful company, let me only have the company of the people I love, let me only be where I like and with whom I like, and the devil take the rest, say I. And I am heartily glad to hear you say the same. But I have a notion, Miss Morland, you and I think pretty much alike upon most matters.”

“By Jove, no more do I. It is not my way to bother my brains with what does not concern me. My notion of things is simple enough. Let me only have the girl I 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 not a penny, why, so much the better.”

“Dear Catherine,

“Though, God knows, with little inclination for writing, I think it my duty to tell you that everything is at an end between Miss Thorpe and me. I left her and Bath yesterday, never to see either again. I shall not enter into particulars — they would only pain you more. You will soon hear enough from another quarter to know where lies the blame; and I hope will acquit your brother of everything but the folly of too easily thinking his affection returned. Thank God! I am undeceived in time! But it is a heavy blow! After my father’s consent had been so kindly given — but no more of this. She has made me miserable forever! Let me soon hear from you, dear Catherine; you are my only friend; your love I do build upon. I wish your visit at Northanger may be over before Captain Tilney makes his engagement known, or you will be uncomfortably circumstanced. Poor Thorpe is in town: I dread the sight of him; his honest heart would feel so much. I have written to him and my father. Her duplicity hurts me more than all; till the very last, if I reasoned with her,