with him, unless he would allow Miss Andrews to be as beautiful as an angel. The men think us incapable of real friendship, you know, and I am determined to show them the difference. Now, if I were to hear anybody speak slightingly of you, I should fire up in a moment: but that is not at all likely, for you are just the kind of girl to be a great favourite with the men.” 

 “Oh, dear!” cried Catherine, colouring. “How can you say so?” 

 “I know you very well; you have so much animation, which is exactly what Miss Andrews wants, for I must confess there is something amazingly insipid about her. Oh! I must tell you, that just after we parted yesterday, I saw a young man looking at you so earnestly—I am sure he is in love with you.” Catherine coloured, and disclaimed again. Isabella laughed. “It is very true, upon my honour, but I see how it is; you are indifferent to everybody’s admiration, except that of one gentleman, who shall be nameless. Nay, I cannot blame you”—speaking more seriously—“your feelings are easily understood. Where the heart is really attached, I know very well how little one can be pleased with the attention of anybody else. Everything is so insipid, so uninteresting, that does not relate to the beloved object! I can perfectly comprehend your feelings.” 

 “But you should not persuade me that I think so very much about Mr. Tilney, for perhaps I may never see him again.” 

 “Not see him again! My dearest creature, do not talk of it. I am sure you would be miserable if you thought so!” 

 “No, indeed, I should not. I do not pretend to say that I was not very much pleased with him; but while I have Udolpho to read, I feel as if nobody could make me miserable. Oh! The dreadful black veil! My dear Isabella, I am sure there must be Laurentina’s skeleton behind it.” 

 “It is so odd to me, that you should never have read Udolpho before; but I suppose Mrs. Morland objects to novels.” 

 “No, she does not. She very often reads Sir Charles Grandison herself; but new books do not fall in our way.” 

 “Sir Charles Grandison! That is an amazing horrid book, is it not? I remember Miss Andrews could not get through the first volume.” 

 “It is not like Udolpho at all; but yet I think it is very entertaining.” 

 “Do you indeed! You surprise me; I thought it had not been readable. But, my dearest Catherine, have you 

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