back to the hotel, swallowed their dinner in haste,

to prevent being in the dark; and then had a delightful
drive back, only the moon was not up, and it rained a little,

and Mr. Morland's horse was so tired he could hardly get it along.
Catherine listened with heartfelt satisfaction.

It appeared that Blaize Castle had never been thought of;
and, as for all the rest, there was nothing to regret

for half an instant. Maria's intelligence concluded
with a tender effusion of pity for her sister Anne,

whom she represented as insupportably cross, from being
excluded the party.

"She will never forgive me, I am sure; but, you know,
how could I help it? John would have me go, for he vowed he

would not drive her, because she had such thick ankles.
I dare say she will not be in good humour again this month;

but I am determined I will not be cross; it is not a little
matter that puts me out of temper."

Isabella now entered the room with so eager a step,
and a look of such happy importance, as engaged all her

friend's notice. Maria was without ceremony sent away,
and Isabella, embracing Catherine, thus began: "Yes,

my dear Catherine, it is so indeed; your penetration has
not deceived you. Oh! That arch eye of yours! It sees

through everything."
Catherine replied only by a look of wondering ignorance.

"Nay, my beloved, sweetest friend," continued the other,
"compose yourself. I am amazingly agitated, as you perceive.

Let us sit down and talk in comfort. Well, and so you
guessed it the moment you had my note? Sly creature!

Oh! My dear Catherine, you alone, who know my heart,
can judge of my present happiness. Your brother is the most

charming of men. I only wish I were more worthy of him.
But what will your excellent father and mother say? Oh!

Heavens! When I think of them I am so agitated!"
Catherine's understanding began to awake: an idea

of the truth suddenly darted into her mind; and, with the
natural blush of so new an emotion, she cried out,

"Good heaven! My dear Isabella, what do you mean? Can
you--can you really be in love with James?"

This bold surmise, however, she soon learnt
comprehended but half the fact. The anxious affection,

which she was accused of having continually watched
in Isabella's every look and action, had, in the course

of their yesterday's party, received the delightful
confession of an equal love. Her heart and faith were

alike engaged to James. Never had Catherine listened
to anything so full of interest, wonder, and joy.

Her brother and her friend engaged! New to such circumstances,
the importance of it appeared unspeakably great, and she

contemplated it as one of those grand events, of which
the ordinary course of life can hardly afford a return.

The strength of her feelings she could not express;
the nature of them, however, contented her friend.

The happiness of having such a sister was their first effusion,
and the fair ladies mingled in embraces and tears of joy.

Delighting, however, as Catherine sincerely did
in the prospect of the connection, it must be acknowledged

that Isabella far surpassed her in tender anticipations.
"You will be so infinitely dearer to me, my Catherine,

than either Anne or Maria: I feel that I shall be so much
more attached to my dear Morland's family than to my own."

This was a pitch of friendship beyond Catherine.
"You are so like your dear brother," continued Isabella,

"that I quite doted on you the first moment I saw you.
But so it always is with me; the first moment

settles everything. The very first day that Morland came
to us last Christmas--the very first moment I beheld

him--my heart was irrecoverably gone. I remember I wore
my yellow gown, with my hair done up in braids; and when I

came into the drawing-room, and John introduced him,
I thought I never saw anybody so handsome before."

Here Catherine secretly acknowledged the power
of love; for, though exceedingly fond of her brother,

and partial to all his endowments, she had never in her
life thought him handsome.

"I remember too, Miss Andrews drank tea with us
that evening, and wore her puce-coloured sarsenet;

and she looked so heavenly that I thought your brother
must certainly fall in love with her; I could not sleep

a wink all right for thinking of it. Oh! Catherine,
the many sleepless nights I have had on your brother's

account! I would not have you suffer half what I have done!
I am grown wretchedly thin, I know; but I will not pain

you by describing my anxiety; you have seen enough of it.
I feel that I have betrayed myself perpetually--so unguarded

in speaking of my partiality for the church! But my secret
I was always sure would be safe with you."

Catherine felt that nothing could have been safer;
but ashamed of an ignorance little expected, she dared

no longer contest the point, nor refuse to have been
as full of arch penetration and affectionate sympathy

as Isabella chose to consider her. Her brother, she found,
was preparing to set off with all speed to Fullerton,

to make known his situation and ask consent; and here was
a source of some real agitation to the mind of Isabella.

Catherine endeavoured to persuade her, as she was
herself persuaded, that her father and mother would

never oppose their son's wishes. "It is impossible,"
said she, "for parents to be more kind, or more desirous

of their children's happiness; I have no doubt of their
consenting immediately."

"Morland says exactly the same," replied Isabella;
"and yet I dare not expect it; my fortune will be so small;

they never can consent to it. Your brother, who might
marry anybody!"

Here Catherine again discerned the force of love.
"Indeed, Isabella, you are too humble. The difference

of fortune can be nothing to signify."
"Oh! My sweet Catherine, in your generous heart I

know it would signify nothing; but we must not expect
such disinterestedness in many. As for myself, I am sure

I only wish our situations were reversed. Had I the
command of millions, were I mistress of the whole world,

your brother would be my only choice."
This charmingsentiment, recommended as much by sense

as novelty, gave Catherine a most pleasingremembrance of all
the heroines of her acquaintance; and she thought her friend

never looked more lovely than in uttering the grand idea.
"I am sure they will consent," was her frequent declaration;

"I am sure they will be delighted with you."
"For my own part," said Isabella, "my wishes are so moderate

that the smallest income in nature would be enough for me.
Where people are really attached, poverty itself is wealth;

grandeur I detest: I would not settle in London for the universe.
A cottage in some retired village would be ecstasy.

There are some charming little villas about Richmond."
"Richmond!" cried Catherine. "You must settle