ER 11

The morrow brought a very sober-looking morning, the sun making only
a few efforts to appear, and Catherine augured from it everything most
favourable to her wishes. A bright morning so early in the year,
she allowed, would generally turn to rain, but a cloudy one foretold
improvement as the day advanced. She applied to Mr. Allen for
confirmation of her hopes, but Mr. Allen, not having his own skies and
barometer about him, declined giving any absolute promise of sunshine.
She applied to Mrs. Allen, and Mrs. Allen's opinion was more positive.
"She had no doubt in the world of its being a very fine day, if the
clouds would only go off, and the sun keep out."

At about eleven o'clock, however, a few specks of small rain upon the
windows caught Catherine's watchful eye, and "Oh! dear, I do believe it
will be wet," broke from her in a most desponding tone.

"I thought how it would be," said Mrs. Allen.

"No walk for me today," sighed Catherine; "but perhaps it may come to
nothing, or it may hold up before twelve."

"Perhaps it may, but then, my dear, it will be so dirty."

"Oh! That will not signify; I never mind dirt."

"No," replied her friend very placidly, "I know you never mind dirt."

After a short pause, "It comes on faster and faster!" said Catherine, as
she stood watching at a window.

"So it does indeed. If it keeps raining, the streets will be very wet."

"There are four umbrellas up already. How I hate the sight of an
umbrella!"

"They are disagreeable things to carry. I would much rather take a chair
at any time."

"It was such a nice-looking morning! I felt so convinced it would be
dry!"

"Anybody would have thought so indeed. There will be very few people in
the pump-room, if it rains all the morning. I hope Mr. Allen will put
on his greatcoat when he goes, but I dare say he will not, for he had
rather do anything in the world than walk out in a greatcoat; I wonder
he should dislike it, it must be so comfortable."

The rain continued--fast, though not heavy. Catherine went every five
minutes to the clock, threatening on each return that, if it still
kept on raining another five minutes, she would give up the matter as
hopeless. The clock struck twelve, and it still rained. "You will not be
able to go, my dear."

"I do not quite despair yet. I shall not give it up till a quarter after
twelve. This is just the time of day for it to clear up, and I do think
it looks a little lighter.