Aware that if she gave herself much time, she might feel it difficult to bring forward so unpleasant a subject, she took the first opportunity of being suddenly alone with Eleanor, and of Eleanor’s being in the middle of a speech about something very different, to start forth her obligation of going away very soon.  Eleanor looked and declared herself much concerned.  She had “hoped for the pleasure of her company for a much longer time —­ had been misled (perhaps by her wishes) to suppose that a much longer visit had been promised —­ and could not but think that if Mr. and Mrs. Morland were aware of the pleasure it was to her to have her there, they would be too generous to hasten her return.”  Catherine explained:  “Oh!  As to that, Papa and Mamma were in no hurry at all.  As long as she was happy, they would always be satisfied.”

“Then why, might she ask, in such a hurry herself to leave them?”

“Oh!  Because she had been there so long.”

“Nay, if you can use such a word, I can urge you no farther.  If you think it long —­ "

“Oh!  No, I do not indeed.  For my own pleasure, I could stay with you as long again.”  And it was directly settled that, till she had, her leaving them was not even to be thought of.  In having this cause of uneasiness so pleasantly removed, the force of the other was likewise weakened.  The kindness, the earnestness of Eleanor’s manner in pressing her to stay, and Henry’s gratified look on being told that her stay was determined, were such sweet proofs of her importance with them, as left her only just so much solicitude as the human mind can never do comfortably without.  She did —­ almost always —­ believe that Henry loved her, and quite always that his father and sister loved and even wished her to belong to them; and believing so far, her doubts and anxieties were merely sportive irritations.

Henry was not able to obey his father’s injunction of remaining wholly at Northanger in attendance on the ladies, during his absence in London, the engagements of his curate at Woodston obliging him to leave them on Saturday for a couple of nights.  His loss was not now what it had been while the general was at home; it lessened their gaiety, but did not ruin their comfort; and the two girls agreeing in occupation, and improving in intimacy, found themselves so well sufficient for the time to themselves, that it was eleven o’clock, rather a late hour at the abbey, before they quitted the supper-room on the day of Henry’s departure.  They had just reached the head of the stairs when it seemed, as far as the thickness of the walls would allow them to judge, that a carriage was driving up to the door, and the next moment confirmed the idea by the loud noise of the house-bell.  After the first perturbation of surprise had passed away, in a “Good heaven!  What can be the matter?” it was quickly decided by Eleanor to be her eldest brother, whose arrival was often as sudden, if not quite so unseasonable, and accordingly she hurried down to welcome him.