“We shall get nothing more serious from him now, Miss Morland.  He is not in a sober mood.  But I do assure you that he must be entirely misunderstood, if he can ever appear to say an unjust thing of any woman at all, or an unkind one of me.”

It was no effort to Catherine to believe that Henry Tilney could never be wrong.  His manner might sometimes surprise, but his meaning must always be just:  and what she did not understand, she was almost as ready to admire, as what she did.  The whole walk was delightful, and though it ended too soon, its conclusion was delightful too; her friends attended her into the house, and Miss Tilney, before they parted, addressing herself with respectful form, as much to Mrs. Allen as to Catherine, petitioned for the pleasure of her company to dinner on the day after the next.  No difficulty was made on Mrs. Allen’s side, and the only difficulty on Catherine’s was in concealing the excess of her pleasure.

The morning had passed away so charmingly as to banish all her friendship and natural affection, for no thought of Isabella or James had crossed her during their walk.  When the Tilneys were gone, she became amiable again, but she was amiable for some time to little effect; Mrs. Allen had no intelligence to give that could relieve her anxiety; she had heard nothing of any of them.  Towards the end of the morning, however, Catherine, having occasion for some indispensable yard of ribbon which must be bought without a moment’s delay, walked out into the town, and in Bond Street overtook the second Miss Thorpe as she was loitering towards Edgar’s Buildings between two of the sweetest girls in the world, who had been her dear friends all the morning.  From her, she soon learned that the party to Clifton had taken place.  “They set off at eight this morning,” said Miss Anne, “and I am sure I do not envy them their drive.  I think you and I are very well off to be out of the scrape. it must be the dullest thing in the world, for there is not a soul at Clifton at this time of year.  Belle went with your brother, and John drove Maria.”

Catherine spoke the pleasure she really felt on hearing this part of the arrangement.

“Oh! yes,” rejoined the other, “Maria is gone.  She was quite wild to go.  She thought it would be something very fine.  I cannot say I admire her taste; and for my part, I was determined from the first not to go, if they pressed me ever so much.”

Catherine, a little doubtful of this, could not help answering, “I wish you could have gone too.  It is a pity you could not all go.”

“Thank you; but it is quite a matter of indifference to me.  Indeed, I would not have gone on any account.  I was saying so to Emily and Sophia when you overtook us.”

Catherine was still unconvinced; but glad that Anne should have the friendship of an Emily and a Sophia to console her, she bade her adieu without much uneasiness, and returned home, pleased that the party had not been prevented by her refusing to join it, and very heartily wishing that it might be too pleasant to allow either James or Isabella to resent her resistance any longer.