Northanger Abbey

there be any harm in my calling on Miss Tilney today?

only put on a white gown; Mi

a shop hard by. She reached the house without any impediment, looked at the number, knocked at the door, and inquired for Miss Tilney. The man believed Miss Tilney to be at home, but was not quite certain. Would she be pleased to send up her name? She gave her card. In a few minutes the servant returned, and with a look which did not quite confirm his words, said he had been mistaken, for that Miss Tilney was walked out. Catherine, with a blush of mortification, left the house. She felt almost persuaded that Miss Tilney was at home, and too much offended to admit her; and as she retired down the street, could not withhold one glance at the drawing-room windows, in expectation of seeing her there, but no

so well suspended her care that no one, observing her during the first four acts, would have supposed she had any wretchedness about her. On the beginning of the fifth, however, the sudden view of Mr. Henry Tilney and his father, joining a party in the opposite box, recalled her to anxiety and distress. The stage could no longer excite genuine merriment-no longer keep her whole attention. Every other look upon an average was directed towards the opposite box; and, for the space of two entire scenes, did she thus watch Henry Tilney, without being once able to catch his eye. No longer could he be suspected of indifference for a play; his notice was never withdrawn from the stage during two whole scenes. At length, however, he did look towards her, and he bowed-but such a bow

the then thinning rows, spoke with like calm politeness to Mrs. Allen and her friend. Not with such calmness was he answered by the latter: "Oh! Mr. Tilney, I have been quite wild to speak to you, and make my apologies. You must have thought me so rude;

le my gown," was M

is countenance, and he replied in a tone which retained only a little affected reserve: "We were much obliged to you at an

arnestly to stop; I called out to him as soon as ever I saw you; now, Mrs. Allen, did not-Oh! You were not th

s sister's concern, regret, and dependence on Catherine's honour. "Oh! Do not say Miss Tilney was not angry," cried Catherine, "because I know she was; for she would not see me

perhaps I can do it as well. It was nothing more than that my father-they were just preparing to walk out, and he being hurried for time, and not caring to

thoroughly artless in itself, though rather distressing to the gentleman: "But, Mr. Tilney, why were you less generous than your sister?

take of

look, when you came into

could have

ht who saw your face." He replied by asking her

e they parted, however, it was agreed that the projected walk should be taken as soon as possible; and, setting as

e thought she could perceive herself the object of their attention and discourse. What could they have to say of her? She feared General Tilney did not like her appearance: she found it was implied in his preventing her admittance to his daughter, rat

prevented the inquiry which had travelled from her heart almost to the tip of her tongue, by asking, in a consequential manner, whether she had seen him talking with General Tilne

ame you to

ther, though I was almost afraid of him at first: the odds were five to four against me; and, if I had not made one of the cleanest strokes that perhaps ever was made in this world-I took his ball exactly-but I could not make you understand it without a ta

se! How can

ering his voice-"well done, general

rry to be called away by Mr. Allen. Thorpe, however, would see her to her chair, and, till she ent

nd she joyfully thought that there was not one of the family whom she need now fear