Jane Austen: Northanger Abbey

CHAPTER 25 (continued)

The anxieties of common life began soon to succeed to the alarms of romance. Her desire of hearing from Isabella grew every day greater. She was quite impatient to know how the Bath world went on, and how the rooms were attended; and especially was she anxious to be assured of Isabella's having matched some fine netting-cotton, on which she had left her intent; and of her continuing on the best terms with James. Her only dependence for information of any kind was on Isabella. James had protested against writing to her till his return to Oxford; and Mrs. Allen had given her no hopes of a letter till she had got back to Fullerton. But Isabella had promised and promised again; and when she promised a thing, she was so scrupulous in performing it! This made it so particularly strange!

For nine successive mornings, Catherine wondered over the repetition of a disappointment, which each morning became more severe: but, on the tenth, when she entered the breakfast-room, her first object was a letter, held out by Henry's willing hand. She thanked him as heartily as if he had written it himself. "'Tis only from James, however," as she looked at the direction. She opened it; it was from Oxford; and to this purpose:

"Dear Catherine,

"Though, God knows, with little inclination
for writing, I think it my duty to tell you that
everything is at an end between Miss Thorpe and me.
I left her and Bath yesterday, never to see either
again. I shall not enter into particulars--they
would only pain you more. You will soon hear enough
from another quarter to know where lies the blame;
and I hope will acquit your brother of everything
but the folly of too easily thinking his affection
returned. Thank God! I am undeceived in time! But
it is a heavy blow! After my father's consent had
been so kindly given--but no more of this. She has
made me miserable forever! Let me soon hear from
you, dear Catherine; you are my only friend; your
love I do build upon. I wish your visit at Northanger
may be over before Captain Tilney makes his engagement
known, or you will be uncomfortably circumstanced.
Poor Thorpe is in town: I dread the sight of him;
his honest heart would feel so much. I have written
to him and my father. Her duplicity hurts me more
than all; till the very last, if I reasoned with
her, she declared herself as much attached to me as
ever, and laughed at my fears. I am ashamed to
think how long I bore with it; but if ever man had
reason to believe himself loved, I was that man.
I cannot understand even now what she would be at,
for there could be no need of my being played off
to make her secure of Tilney. We parted at last by
mutual consent--happy for me had we never met! I
can never expect to know such another woman! Dearest
Catherine, beware how you give your heart.
"Believe me," &c.