“Nobody can think better of Mr. Morland than I do, I am sure.  But everybody has their failing, you know, and everybody has a right to do what they like with their own money.”  Catherine was hurt by these insinuations.  “I am very sure,” said she, “that my father has promised to do as much as he can afford.”

Isabella recollected herself.  “As to that, my sweet Catherine, there cannot be a doubt, and you know me well enough to be sure that a much smaller income would satisfy me.  It is not the want of more money that makes me just at present a little out of spirits; I hate money; and if our union could take place now upon only fifty pounds a year, I should not have a wish unsatisfied.  Ah! my Catherine, you have found me out.  There’s the sting.  The long, long, endless two years and half that are to pass before your brother can hold the living.”

“Yes, yes, my darling Isabella,” said Mrs. Thorpe, “we perfectly see into your heart.  You have no disguise.  We perfectly understand the present vexation; and everybody must love you the better for such a noble honest affection.”

Catherine’s uncomfortable feelings began to lessen.  She endeavoured to believe that the delay of the marriage was the only source of Isabella’s regret; and when she saw her at their next interview as cheerful and amiable as ever, endeavoured to forget that she had for a minute thought otherwise.  James soon followed his letter, and was received with the most gratifying kindness.

CHAPTER 17

The Allens had now entered on the sixth week of their stay in Bath; and whether it should be the last was for some time a question, to which Catherine listened with a beating heart.  To have her acquaintance with the Tilneys end so soon was an evil which nothing could counterbalance.  Her whole happiness seemed at stake, while the affair was in suspense, and everything secured when it was determined that the lodgings should be taken for another fortnight.  What this additional fortnight was to produce to her beyond the pleasure of sometimes seeing Henry Tilney made but a small part of Catherine’s speculation.  Once or twice indeed, since James’s engagement had taught her what could be done, she had got so far as to indulge in a secret “perhaps,” but in general the felicity of being with him for the present bounded her views:  the present was now comprised in another three weeks, and her happiness being certain for that period, the rest of her life was at such a distance as to excite but little interest.  In the course of the morning which saw this business arranged, she visited Miss Tilney, and poured forth her joyful feelings.  It was doomed to be a day of trial.  No sooner had she expressed her delight in Mr. Allen’s lengthened stay than Miss Tilney told her of her father’s having just determined upon quitting Bath by the end of another week.  Here was a blow!  The past suspense of the morning had been ease and quiet to the present disappointment.  Catherine’s countenance fell, and in a voice of most sincere concern she echoed Miss Tilney’s concluding words, “By the end of another week!”