Everybody
acquainted with Bath may remember the difficulties of crossing Cheap
Street at this point; it is indeed a street of so impertinent a nature,
so unfortunately connected with the great London and Oxford roads, and
the principal inn of the city, that a day never passes in which parties
of ladies, however important their business, whether in quest of
pastry, millinery, or even (as in the present case) of young men, are
not detained on one side or other by carriages, horsemen, or carts. This evil had been felt and lamented, at least three times a day, by
Isabella since her residence in Bath; and she was now fated to feel and
lament it once more, for at the very moment of coming opposite to Union
Passage, and within view of the two gentlemen who were proceeding
through the crowds, and threading the gutters of that interesting
alley, they were prevented crossing by the approach of a gig, driven
along on bad pavement by a most knowing-looking coachman with all the
vehemence that could most fitly endanger the lives of himself, his
companion, and his horse. “Oh, these odious gigs!” said Isabella, looking up. “How I detest
them.” But this detestation, though so just, was of short duration, for
she looked again and exclaimed, “Delightful! mr. Morland and my
brother!”

“Good heaven! ’Tis James!” was uttered at the same moment by Catherine;
and, on catching the young men’s eyes, the horse was immediately
checked with a violence which almost threw him on his haunches, and the
servant having now scampered up, the gentlemen jumped out, and the
equipage was delivered to his care. Catherine, by whom this meeting was wholly unexpected, received her
brother with the liveliest pleasure; and he, being of a very amiable
disposition, and sincerely attached to her, gave every proof on his
side of equal satisfaction, which he could have leisure to do, while
the bright eyes of Miss Thorpe were incessantly challenging his notice;
and to her his devoirs were speedily paid, with a mixture of joy and
embarrassment which might have informed Catherine, had she been more
expert in the development of other people’s feelings, and less simply
engrossed by her own, that her brother thought her friend quite as
pretty as she could do herself. John Thorpe, who in the meantime had been giving orders about the
horses, soon joined them, and from him she directly received the amends
which were her due; for while he slightly and carelessly touched the
hand of Isabella, on her he bestowed a whole scrape and half a short
bow. He was a stout young man of middling height, who, with a plain
face and ungraceful form, seemed fearful of being too handsome unless
he wore the dress of a groom, and too much like a gentleman unless he
were easy where he ought to be civil, and impudent where he might be
allowed to be easy. He took out his watch: “How long do you think we
have been running it from Tetbury, Miss Morland?”

“I do not know the distance.” Her brother told her that it was
twenty-three miles. “_Three_-and-twenty!” cried Thorpe, “five-and-twenty if it is an inch.”
Morland remonstrated, pleaded the authority of road-books, innkeepers,
and milestones; but his friend disregarded them all; he had a surer
test of distance. “I know it must be five-and-twenty,” said he, “by the
time we have been doing it. It is now half after one; we drove out of
the inn-yard at Tetbury as the town clock struck eleven; and I defy any
man in England to make my horse go less than ten miles an hour in
harness; that makes it exactly twenty-five.”

“You have lost an hour,” said Morland; “it was only ten o’clock when we
came from Tetbury.”

“Ten o’clock! it was eleven, upon my soul! i counted every stroke. This
brother of yours would persuade me out of my senses, Miss Morland; do
but look at my horse; did you ever see an animal so made for speed in
your life?” (The servant had just mounted the carriage and was driving
off.) “Such true blood! three hours and and a half indeed coming only
three and twenty miles! look at that creature, and suppose it possible
if you can.”

“He _does_ look very hot, to be sure.”

“Hot! he had not turned a hair till we came to Walcot Church; but look
at his forehand; look at his loins; only see how he moves; that horse
_cannot_ go less than ten miles an hour: tie his legs and he will get
on. What do you think of my gig, Miss Morland? A neat one, is not it? Well hung; town-built; I have not had it a month. It was built for a
Christchurch man, a friend of mine, a very good sort of fellow; he ran
it a few weeks, till, I believe, it was convenient to have done with
it. I happened just then to be looking out for some light thing of the
kind, though I had pretty well determined on a curricle too; but I
chanced to meet him on Magdalen Bridge, as he was driving into Oxford,
last term: ‘Ah! thorpe,’ said he, ‘do you happen to want such a little
thing as this? It is a capital one of the kind, but I am cursed tired
of it.’ ‘Oh! d—,’ said I; ‘I am your man; what do you ask?’ And how
much do you think he did, Miss Morland?”

“I am sure I cannot guess at all.”

“Curricle-hung, you see; seat, trunk, sword-case, splashing-board,
lamps, silver moulding, all you see complete; the iron-work as good as
new, or better. He asked fifty guineas; I closed with him directly,
threw down the money, and the carriage was mine.”

“And I am sure,” said Catherine, “I know so little of such things that
I cannot judge whether it was cheap or dear.”

“Neither one nor t’other; I might have got it for less, I dare say; but
I hate haggling, and poor Freeman wanted cash.”

“That was very good-natured of you,” said Catherine, quite pleased. “Oh! d—— it, when one has the means of doing a kind thing by a friend,
I hate to be pitiful.”

An inquiry now took place into the intended movements of the young
ladies; and, on finding whither they were going, it was decided that
the gentlemen should accompany them to Edgar’s Buildings, and pay their
respects to Mrs. Thorpe. James and Isabella led the way; and so well
satisfied was the latter with her lot, so contentedly was she
endeavouring to ensure a pleasant walk to him who brought the double
recommendation of being her brother’s friend, and her friend’s brother,
so pure and uncoquettish were her feelings, that, though they overtook
and passed the two offending young men in Milsom Street, she was so far
from seeking to attract their notice, that she looked back at them only
three times. John Thorpe kept of course with Catherine, and, after a few minutes’
silence, renewed the conversation about his gig. “You will find,
however, Miss Morland, it would be reckoned a cheap thing by some
people, for I might have sold it for ten guineas more the next day;
Jackson, of Oriel, bid me sixty at once; Morland was with me at the
time.”

“Yes,” said Morland, who overheard this; “but you forget that your
horse was included.”

“My horse! oh, d—— it! i would not sell my horse for a hundred.