was the only source of Isabella's regret; and when she
saw her at their next interview as cheerful and amiable

as ever, endeavoured to forget that she had for a minute
thought otherwise. James soon followed his letter,

and was received with the most gratifying kindness.
CHAPTER 17

The Allens had now entered on the sixth week of their
stay in Bath; and whether it should be the last was for

some time a question, to which Catherine listened with a
beating heart. To have her acquaintance with the Tilneys

end so soon was an evil which nothing could counterbalance.
Her whole happiness seemed at stake, while the affair was

in suspense, and everything secured when it was determined
that the lodgings should be taken for another fortnight.

What this additional" target="_blank" title="a.附加的，额外的">additionalfortnight was to produce to her
beyond the pleasure of sometimes seeing Henry Tilney

made but a small part of Catherine's speculation.
Once or twice indeed, since James's engagement had taught

her what could be done, she had got so far as to indulge
in a secret "perhaps," but in general the felicity of being

with him for the present bounded her views: the present
was now comprised in another three weeks, and her happiness

being certain for that period, the rest of her life was
at such a distance as to excite but little interest.

In the course of the morning which saw this business arranged,
she visited Miss Tilney, and poured forth her joyful feelings.

It was doomed to be a day of trial. No sooner had she
expressed her delight in Mr. Allen's lengthened stay

than Miss Tilney told her of her father's having just
determined upon quitting Bath by the end of another week.

Here was a blow! The past suspense of the morning had
been ease and quiet to the present disappointment.

Catherine's countenance fell, and in a voice of most
sincere concern she echoed Miss Tilney's concluding words,

"By the end of another week!"
"Yes, my father can seldom be prevailed on to give the

waters what I think a fair trial. He has been disappointed
of some friends' arrival whom he expected to meet here,

and as he is now pretty well, is in a hurry to get home."
"I am very sorry for it," said Catherine dejectedly;

"if I had known this before--"
"Perhaps," said Miss Tilney in an embarrassed manner,

"you would be so good--it would make me very happy if--"
The entrance of her father put a stop to the civility,

which Catherine was beginning to hope might introduce
a desire of their corresponding. After addressing her

with his usual politeness, he turned to his daughter
and said, "Well, Eleanor, may I congratulate you on being

successful in your application to your fair friend?"
"I was just beginning to make the request, sir, as you

came in."
"Well, proceed by all means. I know how much

your heart is in it. My daughter, Miss Morland,"
he continued, without leaving his daughter time to speak,

"has been forming a very bold wish. We leave Bath,
as she has perhaps told you, on Saturday se'nnight. A

letter from my steward tells me that my presence is wanted
at home; and being disappointed in my hope of seeing

the Marquis of Longtown and General Courteney here,
some of my very old friends, there is nothing to detain

me longer in Bath. And could we carry our selfish point
with you, we should leave it without a single regret.

Can you, in short, be prevailed on to quit this scene
of public triumph and oblige your friend Eleanor with your

company in Gloucestershire? I am almost ashamed to make
the request, though its presumption would certainly

appear greater to every creature in Bath than yourself.
Modesty such as yours--but not for the world would I pain

it by open praise. If you can be induced to honour us
with a visit, you will make us happy beyond expression.

'Tis true, we can offer you nothing like the gaieties
of this lively place; we can tempt you neither by amusement

nor splendour, for our mode of living, as you see,
is plain and unpretending; yet no endeavours shall

be wanting on our side to make Northanger Abbey not
wholly disagreeable."

Northanger Abbey! These were thrilling words, and wound
up Catherine's feelings to the highest point of ecstasy.

Her grateful and gratified heart could hardly restrain
its expressions within the language of tolerable calmness.

To receive so flattering an invitation! To have her company
so warmly solicited! Everything honourable and soothing,

every present enjoyment, and every future hope was contained
in it; and her acceptance, with only the saving clause

of Papa and Mamma's approbation, was eagerly given.
"I will write home directly," said she, and if they do

not object, as I dare say they will not--"
General Tilney was not less sanguine, having already

waited on her excellent friends in Pulteney Street,
and obtained their sanction of his wishes. "Since they

can consent to part with you," said he, "we may expect
philosophy from all the world."

Miss Tilney was earnest, though gentle, in her
secondary civilities, and the affair became in a few

minutes as nearly settled as this necessary reference
to Fullerton would allow.

The circumstances of the morning had led Catherine's
feelings through the varieties of suspense, security,

and disappointment; but they were now safely lodged
in perfect bliss; and with spirits elated to rapture,

with Henry at her heart, and Northanger Abbey on her lips,
she hurried home to write her letter. Mr. and Mrs. Morland,

relying on the discretion of the friends to whom they
had already entrusted their daughter, felt no doubt

of the propriety of an acquaintance which had been formed
under their eye, and sent therefore by return of post

their ready consent to her visit in Gloucestershire.
This indulgence, though not more than Catherine had

hoped for, completed her conviction of being favoured
beyond every other human creature, in friends and fortune,

circumstance and chance. Everything seemed to cooperate
for her advantage. By the kindness of her first friends,

the Allens, she had been introduced into scenes where
pleasures of every kind had met her. Her feelings,

her preferences, had each known the happiness of a return.
Wherever she felt attachment, she had been able to

create it. The affection of Isabella was to be secured
to her in a sister. The Tilneys, they, by whom,

above all, she desired to be favourably thought of,
outstripped even her wishes in the flattering measures

by which their intimacy was to be continued. She was
to be their chosen visitor, she was to be for weeks

under the same roof with the person whose society
she mostly prized--and, in addition to all the rest,

this roof was to be the roof of an abbey! Her passion
for ancient edifices was next in degree to her passion

for Henry Tilney--and castles and abbeys made usually
the charm of those reveries which his image did not fill.

To see and explore either the ramparts and keep of the one,