Austen Said:

She feared

General Tilney did not like her appearance:

she found

it was implied in his preventing her admittance to his daughter, rather than postpone his own walk a few minutes.

“How came Mr. Thorpe to know your father?”

was her anxious inquiry, as she pointed them out to her companion.

He

knew nothing about it; but his father, like every military man, had a very large acquaintance.

When the entertainment was over, Thorpe came to assist them in getting out. Catherine was the immediate object of his gallantry; and, while they waited in the lobby for a chair,

he

prevented the inquiry which had travelled from her heart almost to the tip of her tongue, by

asking,

in a consequential manner,

whether she had seen him talking with General Tilney:

“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.”

“But how came you to know him?”

“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

you the finest girl in Bath.”

“Oh! Nonsense! How can you say so?”

“And what do you think I said?”

— lowering his voice —

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

Here Catherine, who was much less gratified by his admiration than by General Tilney’s, was not sorry to be called away by Mr. Allen. Thorpe, however, would see her to her chair, and, till she entered it, continued the same kind of delicate flattery, in spite of her entreating him to have done.

That General Tilney, instead of disliking, should admire her, was very delightful; and

she joyfully thought that

there was not one of the family whom she need now fear to meet.

The evening had done more, much more, for her than could have been expected.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday have now passed in review before the reader; the events of each day, its hopes and fears, mortifications and pleasures, have been separately stated, and the pangs of Sunday only now remain to be described, and close the week. The Clifton scheme had been deferred, not relinquished, and on the afternoon’s crescent of this day, it was brought forward again. In a private consultation between Isabella and James, the former of whom had particularly set her heart upon going, and the latter no less anxiously placed his upon pleasing her,

it was agreed that,

provided the weather were fair, the party should take place on the following morning; and they were to set off very early, in order to be at home in good time.

The affair thus determined, and Thorpe’s approbation secured, Catherine only remained to be apprised of it. She had left them for a few minutes to speak to Miss Tilney. In that interval the plan was completed, and as soon as she came again, her agreement was demanded; but instead of the gay acquiescence expected by Isabella,

Catherine

looked grave,

was very sorry, but could not go. The engagement which ought to have kept her from joining in the former attempt would make it impossible for her to accompany them now. She had that moment settled with Miss Tilney to take their proposed walk tomorrow; it was quite determined, and she would not, upon any account, retract.

But

that

she must and should retract

was instantly the eager cry of both the Thorpes;

they must go to Clifton tomorrow, they would not go without her, it would be nothing to put off a mere walk for one day longer, and they would not hear of a refusal.

Catherine was distressed, but not subdued.

“Do not urge me, Isabella. I am engaged to Miss Tilney. I cannot go.”

This availed nothing. The same arguments assailed her again; she must go, she should go, and they would not hear of a refusal.

“It would be so easy to tell Miss Tilney that you had just been reminded of a prior engagement, and must only beg to put off the walk till Tuesday.”

“No, it would not be easy. I could not do it. There has been no prior engagement.”

But Isabella became only more and more urgent, calling on her in the most affectionate manner, addressing her by the most endearing names.

She was sure

her dearest, sweetest Catherine would not seriously refuse such a trifling request to a friend who loved her so dearly. She knew her beloved Catherine to have so feeling a heart, so sweet a temper, to be so easily persuaded by those she loved.

But all in vain; Catherine felt herself to be in the right, and though pained by such tender, such flattering supplication, could not allow it to influence her. Isabella then tried another method.

She reproached her with