“No, he is not,” said Catherine warmly, “for I am sure he could not afford it.”

“And why cannot he afford it?”

“Because he has not money enough.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Nobody’s, that I know of.”  Thorpe then said something in the loud, incoherent way to which he had often recourse, about its being a d —­ thing to be miserly; and that if people who rolled in money could not afford things, he did not know who could, which Catherine did not even endeavour to understand.  Disappointed of what was to have been the consolation for her first disappointment, she was less and less disposed either to be agreeable herself or to find her companion so; and they returned to Pulteney Street without her speaking twenty words.

As she entered the house, the footman told her that a gentleman and lady had called and inquired for her a few minutes after her setting off; that, when he told them she was gone out with Mr. Thorpe, the lady had asked whether any message had been left for her; and on his saying no, had felt for a card, but said she had none about her, and went away.  Pondering over these heart-rending tidings, Catherine walked slowly upstairs.  At the head of them she was met by Mr. Allen, who, on hearing the reason of their speedy return, said, “I am glad your brother had so much sense; I am glad you are come back.  It was a strange, wild scheme.”

They all spent the evening together at Thorpe’s.  Catherine was disturbed and out of spirits; but Isabella seemed to find a pool of commerce, in the fate of which she shared, by private partnership with Morland, a very good equivalent for the quiet and country air of an inn at Clifton.  Her satisfaction, too, in not being at the Lower Rooms was spoken more than once.  “How I pity the poor creatures that are going there!  How glad I am that I am not amongst them!  I wonder whether it will be a full ball or not!  They have not begun dancing yet.  I would not be there for all the world.  It is so delightful to have an evening now and then to oneself.  I dare say it will not be a very good ball.  I know the Mitchells will not be there.  I am sure I pity everybody that is.  But I dare say, Mr. Morland, you long to be at it, do not you?  I am sure you do.  Well, pray do not let anybody here be a restraint on you.  I dare say we could do very well without you; but you men think yourselves of such consequence.”

Catherine could almost have accused Isabella of being wanting in tenderness towards herself and her sorrows, so very little did they appear to dwell on her mind, and so very inadequate was the comfort she offered.  “Do not be so dull, my dearest creature,” she whispered.  “You will quite break my heart.  It was amazingly shocking, to be sure; but the Tilneys were entirely to blame.  Why were not they more punctual?  It was dirty, indeed, but what did that signify?  I am sure John and I should not have minded it.  I never mind going through anything, where a friend is concerned; that is my disposition, and John is just the same; he has amazing strong feelings.  Good heavens!  What a delightful hand you have got!  Kings, I vow!  I never was so happy in my life!  I would fifty times rather you should have them than myself.”