Her mind made up on these several points, and her resolution formed, of always judging and acting in future with the greatest good sense, she had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever; and the lenient hand of time did much for her by insensible gradations in the course of another day.  Henry’s astonishing generosity and nobleness of conduct, in never alluding in the slightest way to what had passed, was of the greatest assistance to her; and sooner than she could have supposed it possible in the beginning of her distress, her spirits became absolutely comfortable, and capable, as heretofore, of continual improvement by anything he said.  There were still some subjects, indeed, under which she believed they must always tremble —­ the mention of a chest or a cabinet, for instance —­ and she did not love the sight of japan in any shape:  but even she could allow that an occasional memento of past folly, however painful, might not be without use.

The anxieties of common life began soon to succeed to the alarms of romance.  Her desire of hearing from Isabella grew every day greater.  She was quite impatient to know how the Bath world went on, and how the rooms were attended; and especially was she anxious to be assured of Isabella’s having matched some fine netting-cotton, on which she had left her intent; and of her continuing on the best terms with James.  Her only dependence for information of any kind was on Isabella.  James had protested against writing to her till his return to Oxford; and Mrs. Allen had given her no hopes of a letter till she had got back to Fullerton.  But Isabella had promised and promised again; and when she promised a thing, she was so scrupulous in performing it!  This made it so particularly strange!

For nine successive mornings, Catherine wondered over the repetition of a disappointment, which each morning became more severe:  but, on the tenth, when she entered the breakfast-room, her first object was a letter, held out by Henry’s willing hand.  She thanked him as heartily as if he had written it himself. “’Tis only from James, however,” as she looked at the direction.  She opened it; it was from Oxford; and to this purpose: 

“Dear Catherine,

“Though, God knows, with little inclination for writing, I think it my duty to tell you that everything is at an end between Miss Thorpe and me.  I left her and Bath yesterday, never to see either again.  I shall not enter into particulars —­ they would only pain you more.  You will soon hear enough from another quarter to know where lies the blame; and I hope will acquit your brother of everything but the folly of too easily thinking his affection returned.  Thank God!  I am undeceived in time!  But it is a heavy blow!  After my father’s consent had been so kindly given —­ but no more of this.  She has made me miserable forever!  Let me soon hear from you, dear Catherine; you are my only friend; your love I do build upon.