“Yes, my father can seldom be prevailed on to give the waters what I think a fair trial.  He has been disappointed of some friends’ arrival whom he expected to meet here, and as he is now pretty well, is in a hurry to get home.”

“I am very sorry for it,” said Catherine dejectedly; “if I had known this before —­ "

“Perhaps,” said Miss Tilney in an embarrassed manner, “you would be so good —­ it would make me very happy if —­ "

The entrance of her father put a stop to the civility, which Catherine was beginning to hope might introduce a desire of their corresponding.  After addressing her with his usual politeness, he turned to his daughter and said, “Well, Eleanor, may I congratulate you on being successful in your application to your fair friend?”

“I was just beginning to make the request, sir, as you came in.”

“Well, proceed by all means.  I know how much your heart is in it.  My daughter, Miss Morland,” he continued, without leaving his daughter time to speak, “has been forming a very bold wish.  We leave Bath, as she has perhaps told you, on Saturday se’nnight.  A letter from my steward tells me that my presence is wanted at home; and being disappointed in my hope of seeing the Marquis of Longtown and General Courteney here, some of my very old friends, there is nothing to detain me longer in Bath.  And could we carry our selfish point with you, we should leave it without a single regret.  Can you, in short, be prevailed on to quit this scene of public triumph and oblige your friend Eleanor with your company in Gloucestershire?  I am almost ashamed to make the request, though its presumption would certainly appear greater to every creature in Bath than yourself.  Modesty such as yours —­ but not for the world would I pain it by open praise.  If you can be induced to honour us with a visit, you will make us happy beyond expression.  ’Tis true, we can offer you nothing like the gaieties of this lively place; we can tempt you neither by amusement nor splendour, for our mode of living, as you see, is plain and unpretending; yet no endeavours shall be wanting on our side to make Northanger Abbey not wholly disagreeable.”

Northanger Abbey!  These were thrilling words, and wound up Catherine’s feelings to the highest point of ecstasy.  Her grateful and gratified heart could hardly restrain its expressions within the language of tolerable calmness.  To receive so flattering an invitation!  To have her company so warmly solicited!  Everything honourable and soothing, every present enjoyment, and every future hope was contained in it; and her acceptance, with only the saving clause of Papa and Mamma’s approbation, was eagerly given.  “I will write home directly,” said she, “and if they do not object, as I dare say they will not —­ "

General Tilney was not less sanguine, having already waited on her excellent friends in Pulteney Street, and obtained their sanction of his wishes.  “Since they can consent to part with you,” said he, “we may expect philosophy from all the world.”