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"

"Go, by all means, my dear; only put on a white gown; Miss Tilney
always wears white."

Catherine cheerfully complied, and being properly equipped, was more
impatient than ever to be at the pump-room, that she might inform
herself of General Tilneys lodgings, for though she believed they
were in Milsom Street, she was not certain of the house, and Mrs.
Allen's wavering convictions only made it more doubtful. To Milsom
Street she was directed, and having made herself perfect in the
number, hastened away with eager steps and a beating heart to pay
her visit, explain her conduct, and be forgiven; tripping lightly
through the church-yard, and resolutely turning away her eyes, that
she might not be obliged to see her beloved Isabella and her dear
family, who, she had reason to believe, were in 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 one appeared at them.
At the bottom of the street, however, she looked back again, and
then, not at a window, but issuing from the door, she saw Miss
Tilney herself. She was followed by a gentleman, whom Catherine
believed to be her father, and they turned up towards Edgar's
Buildings. Catherine, in deep mortification, proceeded on her
way. She could almost be angry herself at such angry incivility;
but she checked the resentful sensation; she remembered her
own ignorance. She knew not how such an offence as hers might
be classed by the laws of worldly politeness, to what a degree of
unforgivingness it might with propriety lead, nor to what rigours
of rudeness in return it might justly make her amenable.

Dejected and humbled, she had even some thoughts of not going with
the others to the theatre that night; but it must be confessed
that they were not of long continuance, for she soon recollected,
in the first place, that she was without any excuse for staying at
home; and, in the second, that it was a play she wanted very much
to see. To the theatre accordingly they all went; no Tilneys
appeared to plague or please her; she feared that, amongst the
many perfections of the family, a fondness for plays was not to
be ranked; but perhaps it was because they were habituated to the
finer performances of the London stage, which she knew, on Isabella's
authority, rendered everything else of the kind "quite horrid.

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