After sitting with them a quarter of an hour, she rose to take leave, and was then most agreeably surprised by General Tilney’s asking her if she would do his daughter the honour of dining and spending the rest of the day with her.  Miss Tilney added her own wishes.  Catherine was greatly obliged; but it was quite out of her power.  Mr. and Mrs. Allen would expect her back every moment.  The general declared he could say no more; the claims of Mr. and Mrs. Allen were not to be superseded; but on some other day he trusted, when longer notice could be given, they would not refuse to spare her to her friend.  “Oh, no; Catherine was sure they would not have the least objection, and she should have great pleasure in coming.”  The general attended her himself to the street-door, saying everything gallant as they went downstairs, admiring the elasticity of her walk, which corresponded exactly with the spirit of her dancing, and making her one of the most graceful bows she had ever beheld, when they parted.

Catherine, delighted by all that had passed, proceeded gaily to Pulteney Street, walking, as she concluded, with great elasticity, though she had never thought of it before.  She reached home without seeing anything more of the offended party; and now that she had been triumphant throughout, had carried her point, and was secure of her walk, she began (as the flutter of her spirits subsided) to doubt whether she had been perfectly right.  A sacrifice was always noble; and if she had given way to their entreaties, she should have been spared the distressing idea of a friend displeased, a brother angry, and a scheme of great happiness to both destroyed, perhaps through her means.  To ease her mind, and ascertain by the opinion of an unprejudiced person what her own conduct had really been, she took occasion to mention before Mr. Allen the half-settled scheme of her brother and the Thorpes for the following day.  Mr. Allen caught at it directly.  “Well,” said he, “and do you think of going too?”

“No; I had just engaged myself to walk with Miss Tilney before they told me of it; and therefore you know I could not go with them, could I?”

“No, certainly not; and I am glad you do not think of it.  These schemes are not at all the thing.  Young men and women driving about the country in open carriages!  Now and then it is very well; but going to inns and public places together!  It is not right; and I wonder Mrs. Thorpe should allow it.  I am glad you do not think of going; I am sure Mrs. Morland would not be pleased.  Mrs. Allen, are not you of my way of thinking?  Do not you think these kind of projects objectionable?”

“Yes, very much so indeed.  Open carriages are nasty things.  A clean gown is not five minutes’ wear in them.  You are splashed getting in and getting out; and the wind takes your hair and your bonnet in every direction.  I hate an open carriage myself.”

“I know you do; but that is not the question.  Do not you think it has an odd appearance, if young ladies are frequently driven about in them by young men, to whom they are not even related?”