CHAPTER 27
The next morning brought the following very unexpected letter from
Isabella:
Bath, April
My dearest Catherine, I received your two kind letters with the
greatest delight, and have a thousand apologies to make for not
answering them sooner. I really am quite ashamed of my idleness;
but in this horrid place one can find time for nothing. I have had
my pen in my hand to begin a letter to you almost every day since
you left Bath, but have always been prevented by some silly trifler
or other. Pray write to me soon, and direct to my own home. Thank
God, we leave this vile place tomorrow. Since you went away,
I have had no pleasure in it -- the dust is beyond anything; and
everybody one cares for is gone. I believe if I could see you
I should not mind the rest, for you are dearer to me than anybody
can conceive. I am quite uneasy about your dear brother, not
having heard from him since he went to Oxford; and am fearful of
some misunderstanding. Your kind offices will set all right: he
is the only man I ever did or could love, and I trust you will
convince him of it. The spring fashions are partly down; and the
hats the most frightful you can imagine. I hope you spend your
time pleasantly, but am afraid you never think of me. I will not
say all that I could of the family you are with, because I would
not be ungenerous, or set you against those you esteem; but it
is very difficult to know whom to trust, and young men never know
their minds two days together. I rejoice to say that the young
man whom, of all others, I particularly abhor, has left Bath. You
will know, from this description, I must mean Captain Tilney, who,
as you may remember, was amazingly disposed to follow and tease me,
before you went away. Afterwards he got worse, and became quite my
shadow. Many girls might have been taken in, for never were such
attentions; but I knew the fickle sex too well. He went away to
his regiment two days ago, and I trust I shall never be plagued with
him again. He is the greatest coxcomb I ever saw, and amazingly
disagreeable. The last two days he was always by the side of
Charlotte Davis: I pitied his taste, but took no notice of him.
The last time we met was in Bath Street, and I turned directly
into a shop that he might not speak to me; I would not even look at
him. He went into the pump-room afterwards; but I would not have
followed him for all the world. Such a contrast between him and
your brother! Pray send me some news of the latter -- I am quite
unhappy about him; he seemed so uncomfortable when he went away,
with a cold, or something that affected his spirits. I would write
to him myself, but have mislaid his direction; and, as I hinted
above, am afraid he took something in my conduct amiss. Pray
explain everything to his satisfaction; or, if he still harbours
any doubt, a line from himself to me, or a call at Putney when next
in town, might set all to rights. I have not been to the rooms this
age, nor to the play, except going in last night with the Hodges,
for a frolic, at half price: they teased me into it; and I was
determined they should not say I shut myself up because Tilney was
gone. We happened to sit by the Mitchells, and they pretended to
be quite surprised to see me out. I knew their spite: at one time
they could not be civil to me, but now they are all friendship; but
I am not such a fool as to be taken in by them. You know I have
a pretty good spirit of my own. Anne Mitchell had tried to put on
a turban like mine, as I wore it the week before at the concert,
but made wretched work of it -- it happened to become my odd face,
I believe, at least Tilney told me so at the time, and said every
eye was upon me; but he is the last man whose word I would take.
I wear nothing but purple now: I know I look hideous in it, but
no matter -- it is your dear brother's favourite colour. Lose no
time, my dearest, sweetest Catherine, in writing to him and to me,
Who ever am, etc.
Such a strain of shallow artifice could not impose even upon
Catherine. Its inconsistencies, contradictions, and falsehood
struck her from the very first. She was ashamed of Isabella, and
ashamed of having ever loved her. Her professions of attachment
were now as disgusting as her excuses were empty, and her demands
impudent. "Write to James on her behalf! No, James should never
hear Isabella's name mentioned by her again."
On Henry's arrival from Woodston, she made known to him and Eleanor
their brother's safety, congratulating them with sincerity on it,
and reading aloud the most material passages of her letter with strong
indignation. When she had finished it -- "So much for Isabella,"
she cried, "and for all our intimacy! She must think me an idiot,
or she could not have written so; but perhaps this has served to
make her character better known to me than mine is to her. I see
what she has been about. She is a vain coquette, and her tricks
have not answered. I do not believe she had ever any regard either
for James or for me, and I wish I had never known her."
"It will soon be as if you never had," said Henry.
"There is but one thing that I cannot understand. I see that she
has had designs on Captain Tilney, which have not succeeded; but
I do not understand what Captain Tilney has been about all this
time. Why should he pay her such attentions as to make her quarrel
with my brother, and then fly off himself?"
"I have very little to say for Frederick's motives, such as
I believe them to have been. He has his vanities as well as Miss
Thorpe, and the chief difference is, that, having a stronger head,
they have not yet injured himself. If the effect of his behaviour
does not justify him with you, we had better not seek after the
cause."
"Then you do not suppose he ever really cared about her?"
"I am persuaded that he never did."
"And only made believe to do so for mischief's sake?"
Henry bowed his assent.
"Well, then, I must say that I do not like him at all. Though it
has turned out so well for us, I do not like him at all. As it
happens, there is no great harm done, because I do not think Isabella
has any heart to lose. But, suppose he had made her very much in
love with him?"
"But we must first suppose Isabella to have had a heart to lose --
consequently to have been a very different creature; and, in that
case, she would have met with very different treatment."
"It is very right that you should stand by your brother."
"And if you would stand by yours, you would not be much distressed
by the disappointment of Miss Thorpe. But your mind is warped by
an innate principle of general integrity, and therefore not accessible
to the cool reasonings of family partiality, or a desire of revenge."
Catherine was complimented out of further bitterness. Frederick
could not be unpardonably guilty, while Henry made himself so
agreeable. She resolved on not answering Isabella's letter, and
tried to think no more of it.
