I need not ask you whether you are happy here,
my dear Catherine; with such a companion and friend as Isabella Thorpe,
it would be impossible for you to be otherwise; and the Allens, I am
sure, are very kind to you?”

“Yes, very kind; I never was so happy before; and now you are come it
will be more delightful than ever; how good it is of you to come so far
on purpose to see _me_.”

James accepted this tribute of gratitude, and qualified his conscience
for accepting it too, by saying with perfect sincerity, “Indeed,
Catherine, I love you dearly.”

Inquiries and communications concerning brothers and sisters, the
situation of some, the growth of the rest, and other family matters now
passed between them, and continued, with only one small digression on
James’s part, in praise of Miss Thorpe, till they reached Pulteney
Street, where he was welcomed with great kindness by Mr. and Mrs.
Allen, invited by the former to dine with them, and summoned by the
latter to guess the price and weigh the merits of a new muff and
tippet. A pre-engagement in Edgar’s Buildings prevented his accepting
the invitation of one friend, and obliged him to hurry away as soon as
he had satisfied the demands of the other. The time of the two parties
uniting in the Octagon Room being correctly adjusted, Catherine was
then left to the luxury of a raised, restless, and frightened
imagination over the pages of Udolpho, lost from all worldly concerns
of dressing and dinner, incapable of soothing Mrs. Allen’s fears on the
delay of an expected dressmaker, and having only one minute in sixty to
bestow even on the reflection of her own felicity, in being already
engaged for the evening. CHAPTER 8


In spite of Udolpho and the dressmaker, however, the party from
Pulteney Street reached the Upper Rooms in very good time. The Thorpes
and James Morland were there only two minutes before them; and Isabella
having gone through the usual ceremonial of meeting her friend with the
most smiling and affectionate haste, of admiring the set of her gown,
and envying the curl of her hair, they followed their chaperons, arm
in arm, into the ballroom, whispering to each other whenever a thought
occurred, and supplying the place of many ideas by a squeeze of the
hand or a smile of affection. The dancing began within a few minutes after they were seated; and
James, who had been engaged quite as long as his sister, was very
importunate with Isabella to stand up; but John was gone into the
card-room to speak to a friend, and nothing, she declared, should
induce her to join the set before her dear Catherine could join it too. “I assure you,” said she, “I would not stand up without your dear
sister for all the world; for if I did we should certainly be separated
the whole evening.” Catherine accepted this kindness with gratitude,
and they continued as they were for three minutes longer, when
Isabella, who had been talking to James on the other side of her,
turned again to his sister and whispered, “My dear creature, I am
afraid I must leave you, your brother is so amazingly impatient to
begin; I know you will not mind my going away, and I dare say John will
be back in a moment, and then you may easily find me out.” Catherine,
though a little disappointed, had too much good nature to make any
opposition, and the others rising up, Isabella had only time to press
her friend’s hand and say, “Good-bye, my dear love,” before they
hurried off. The younger Miss Thorpes being also dancing, Catherine was
left to the mercy of Mrs. Thorpe and Mrs. Allen, between whom she now
remained. She could not help being vexed at the non-appearance of Mr.
Thorpe, for she not only longed to be dancing, but was likewise aware
that, as the real dignity of her situation could not be known, she was
sharing with the scores of other young ladies still sitting down all
the discredit of wanting a partner. To be disgraced in the eye of the
world, to wear the appearance of infamy while her heart is all purity,
her actions all innocence, and the misconduct of another the true
source of her debasement, is one of those circumstances which
peculiarly belong to the heroine’s life, and her fortitude under it
what particularly dignifies her character. Catherine had fortitude too;
she suffered, but no murmur passed her lips. From this state of humiliation, she was roused, at the end of ten
minutes, to a pleasanter feeling, by seeing, not Mr. Thorpe, but Mr.
Tilney, within three yards of the place where they sat; he seemed to be
moving that way, but he did not see her, and therefore the smile and
the blush, which his sudden reappearance raised in Catherine, passed
away without sullying her heroic importance. He looked as handsome and
as lively as ever, and was talking with interest to a fashionable and
pleasing-looking young woman, who leant on his arm, and whom Catherine
immediately guessed to be his sister; thus unthinkingly throwing away a
fair opportunity of considering him lost to her forever, by being
married already. But guided only by what was simple and probable, it
had never entered her head that Mr. Tilney could be married; he had not
behaved, he had not talked, like the married men to whom she had been
used; he had never mentioned a wife, and he had acknowledged a sister. From these circumstances sprang the instant conclusion of his sister’s
now being by his side; and therefore, instead of turning of a deathlike
paleness and falling in a fit on Mrs. Allen’s bosom, Catherine sat
erect, in the perfect use of her senses, and with cheeks only a little
redder than usual. Mr. Tilney and his companion, who continued, though slowly, to
approach, were immediately preceded by a lady, an acquaintance of Mrs.
Thorpe; and this lady stopping to speak to her, they, as belonging to
her, stopped likewise, and Catherine, catching Mr. Tilney’s eye,
instantly received from him the smiling tribute of recognition. She
returned it with pleasure, and then advancing still nearer, he spoke
both to her and Mrs. Allen, by whom he was very civilly acknowledged. “I am very happy to see you again, sir, indeed; I was afraid you had
left Bath.” He thanked her for her fears, and said that he had quitted
it for a week, on the very morning after his having had the pleasure of
seeing her. “Well, sir, and I dare say you are not sorry to be back again, for it
is just the place for young people—and indeed for everybody else too. I
tell Mr. Allen, when he talks of being sick of it, that I am sure he
should not complain, for it is so very agreeable a place, that it is
much better to be here than at home at this dull time of year. I tell
him he is quite in luck to be sent here for his health.”

“And I hope, madam, that Mr. Allen will be obliged to like the place,
from finding it of service to him.”

“Thank you, sir. I have no doubt that he will.