Allen?”

“To Bristol! Is not that a great way off?—But, however, I cannot go with you to-day, because I am engaged; I expect some friends every moment.” This was of course vehemently talked down as no reason at all; Mrs. Allen was called on to second him, and the two others walked in, to give their assistance. “My sweetest Catherine, is not this delightful? We shall have a most heavenly drive. You are to thank your brother and me for the scheme; it darted into our heads at breakfast-time, I verily believe at the same instant; and we should have been off two hours ago if it had not been for this detestable rain. But it does not signify, the nights are moonlight, and we shall do delightfully.10 Oh! I am in such extasies at the thoughts of a little country air and quiet!—so much better than going to the Lower Rooms. We shall drive directly to Clifton and dine there;11 and, as soon as dinner is over, if there is time for it,12 go on to Kingsweston.”13

“I doubt our being able to do so much,” said Morland.14

“You croaking15 fellow!” cried Thorpe, “we shall be able to do ten times more. Kingsweston! aye, and Blaize Castle too, and any thing else we can hear of; but here is your sister says she will not go.”

“Blaize Castle!” cried Catherine; “what is that?”

“The finest place in England—worth going fifty miles at any time to see.”

“What, is it really a castle, an old castle?”

“The oldest in the kingdom.”16

“But is it like what one reads of?”

“Exactly—the very same.”

“But now really—are there towers and long galleries?”

“By dozens.”17

“Then I should like to see it; but I cannot—I cannot go.”

“Not go!—my beloved creature, what do you mean?”

“I cannot go, because”—(looking down as she spoke, fearful of Isabella’s smile) “I expect Miss Tilney and her brother to call on me to take a country walk. They promised to come at twelve, only it rained; but now, as it is so fine, I dare say they will be here soon.”

“Not they indeed,” cried Thorpe; “for, as we turned into Broad-street,18 I saw them—does he not drive a phaeton with bright chesnuts?”19

“I do not know indeed.”

“Yes, I know he does; I saw him. You are talking of the man you danced with last night, are not you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I saw him at that moment turn up the Lansdown Road,20—driving a smart-looking girl.”

Blaise Castle House. Blaise Castle is on the grounds.

[From John Preston Neale, Views of the Seats of Noblemen and Gentlemen, Vol. V (London, 1822)]

[List of Illustrations]

“Did you indeed?”

“Did upon my soul; knew him again directly, and he seemed to have got some very pretty cattle too.”21

“It is very odd! but I suppose they thought it would be too dirty for a walk.”

“And well they might, for I never saw so much dirt in my life. Walk! you could no more walk than you could fly! it has not been so dirty the whole winter; it is ancle-deep every where.”

Isabella corroborated it:—“My dearest Catherine, you cannot form an idea of the dirt; come, you must go; you cannot refuse going now.”

“I should like to see the castle; but may we go all over it? may we go up every staircase, and into every suite of rooms?”

“Yes, yes, every hole and corner.”

“But then,—if they should only be gone out for an hour till it is drier, and call by and bye?”

“Make yourself easy, there is no danger of that, for I heard Tilney hallooing22 to a man who was just passing by on horseback, that they were going as far as Wick Rocks.”23

“Then I will. Shall I go, Mrs. Allen?”

“Just as you please, my dear.”

“Mrs. Allen, you must persuade her to go,” was the general cry. Mrs. Allen was not inattentive to it:—“Well, my dear,” said she, “suppose you go.”—And in two minutes they were off.

Catherine’s feelings, as she got into the carriage, were in a very unsettled state; divided between regret for the loss of one great pleasure, and the hope of soon enjoying another, almost its equal in degree, however unlike in kind. She could not think the Tilneys had acted quite well by her, in so readily giving up their engagement, without sending her any message of excuse. It was now but an hour later than the time fixed on for the beginning of their walk; and, in spite of what she had heard of the prodigious accumulation of dirt in the course of that hour, she could not from her own observation help thinking, that they might have gone with very little inconvenience. To feel herself slighted by them was very painful. On the other hand, the delight of exploring an edifice like Udolpho, as her fancy represented Blaize Castle to be, was such a counterpoise of good, as might console her for almost any thing.

They passed briskly down Pulteney-street, and through Laura-place,24 without the exchange of many words. Thorpe talked to his horse, and she meditated, by turns, on broken promises and broken arches, phaetons and false hangings, Tilneys and trap-doors.25 As they entered Argyle-buildings,26 however, she was roused by this address from her companion, “Who is that girl who looked at you so hard as she went by?”

“Who?—where?”

“On the right-hand pavement—she must be almost out of sight now.” Catherine looked round and saw Miss Tilney leaning on her brother’s arm, walking slowly down the street.27 She saw them both looking back at her. “Stop, stop, Mr. Thorpe,” she impatiently cried, “it is Miss Tilney; it is indeed.—How could you tell me they were gone?—Stop, stop, I will get out this moment and go to them.” But to what purpose did she speak?—Thorpe only lashed his horse into a brisker trot; the Tilneys, who had soon ceased to look after her, were in a moment out of sight round the corner of Laura-place,28 and in another moment she was herself whisked into the Market-place.29 Still, however, and during the length of another street, she intreated him to stop. “Pray, pray stop, Mr. Thorpe.—I cannot go on.—I will not go on.—I must go back to Miss Tilney.” But Mr. Thorpe only laughed, smacked his whip, encouraged his horse, made odd noises, and drove on; and Catherine, angry and vexed as she was, having no power of getting away, was obliged to give up the point and submit.30 Her reproaches, however, were not spared. “How could you deceive me so, Mr. Thorpe?—How could you say, that you saw them driving up the Lansdown-road?—I would not have had it happen so for the world.—They must think it so strange; so rude of me! to go by them, too, without saying a word! You do not know how vexed I am.—I shall have no pleasure at Clifton, nor in any thing else. I had rather, ten thousand times rather get out now, and walk back to them.