Henry smiled and said, “I am sure my brother would not wish to do that.”

“Then you will persuade him to go away?”

“Persuasion is not at command; but pardon me, if I cannot even endeavour to persuade him.  I have myself told him that Miss Thorpe is engaged.  He knows what he is about, and must be his own master.”

“No, he does not know what he is about,” cried Catherine; “he does not know the pain he is giving my brother.  Not that James has ever told me so, but I am sure he is very uncomfortable.”

“And are you sure it is my brother’s doing?”

“Yes, very sure.”

“Is it my brother’s attentions to Miss Thorpe, or Miss Thorpe’s admission of them, that gives the pain?”

“Is not it the same thing?”

“I think Mr. Morland would acknowledge a difference.  No man is offended by another man’s admiration of the woman he loves; it is the woman only who can make it a torment.”

Catherine blushed for her friend, and said, “Isabella is wrong.  But I am sure she cannot mean to torment, for she is very much attached to my brother.  She has been in love with him ever since they first met, and while my father’s consent was uncertain, she fretted herself almost into a fever.  You know she must be attached to him.”

“I understand:  she is in love with James, and flirts with Frederick.”

“Oh! no, not flirts.  A woman in love with one man cannot flirt with another.”

“It is probable that she will neither love so well, nor flirt so well, as she might do either singly.  The gentlemen must each give up a little.”

After a short pause, Catherine resumed with, “Then you do not believe Isabella so very much attached to my brother?”

“I can have no opinion on that subject.”

“But what can your brother mean?  If he knows her engagement, what can he mean by his behaviour?”

“You are a very close questioner.”

“Am I?  I only ask what I want to be told.”

“But do you only ask what I can be expected to tell?”

“Yes, I think so; for you must know your brother’s heart.”

“My brother’s heart, as you term it, on the present occasion, I assure you I can only guess at.”

“Well?”

“Well!  Nay, if it is to be guesswork, let us all guess for ourselves.  To be guided by second-hand conjecture is pitiful.  The premises are before you.  My brother is a lively and perhaps sometimes a thoughtless young man; he has had about a week’s acquaintance with your friend, and he has known her engagement almost as long as he has known her.”

“Well,” said Catherine, after some moments’ consideration, “you may be able to guess at your brother’s intentions from all this; but I am sure I cannot.  But is not your father uncomfortable about it?  Does not he want Captain Tilney to go away?  Sure, if your father were to speak to him, he would go.”