Chapter 30

Catherine’s disposition was not naturally sedentary, nor had her habits

been ever very industrious; but whatever m ight hitherto have been her defects of that sort, her m other could not but perceive them now to be greatly increased. She could neither sit still nor em ploy herself for ten m inutes together, walking round the garden and orchard again and again, as if nothing but m otion was voluntary ; and it seem ed as if she could even walk about the house rather than rem ain fixed for any tim e in the parlour. Her loss of spirits was a y et greater alteration. In her ram bling and her idleness she m ight only be a caricature of herself; but in her silence and sadness she was the very reverse of all that she had been before.

For two day s Mrs. Morland allowed it to pass even without a hint; but

when a third night’s rest had neither restored her cheerfulness, im proved her in useful activity, nor given her a greater inclination for needlework, she could no longer refrain from the gentle reproof of, “My dear Catherine, I am afraid y ou are growing quite a fine lady. I do not know when poor Richard’s cravats would be done, if he had no friend but y ou. Your head runs too m uch upon Bath; but there is a tim e for every thing – a tim e for balls and play s, and a tim e for work. You have had a long run of am usem ent, and now y ou m ust try to be useful.”

Catherine took up her work directly, say ing, in a dej ected voice, that

“her head did not run upon Bath – m uch.”

“Then y ou are fretting about General Tilney, and that is very sim ple of

y ou; for ten to one whether y ou ever see him again. You should never fret about trifles.” After a short silence – “I hope, m y Catherine, y ou are not getting out of hum our with hom e because it is not so grand as Northanger. That would be turning y our visit into an evil indeed. Wherever y ou are y ou should alway s be contented, but especially at hom e, because there y ou m ust spend the m ost of y our tim e. I did not quite like, at breakfast, to hear y ou talk so m uch about the French bread at Northanger.”

“I am sure I do not care about the bread. It is all the sam e to m e what I

eat.”

“There is a very clever essay in one of the books upstairs upon m uch

such a subj ect, about y oung girls that have been spoilt for hom e by great acquaintance – The Mirror, I think. I will look it out for y ou som e day or other, because I am sure it will do y ou good.”

Catherine said no m ore, and, with an endeavour to do right, applied to

her work; but, after a few m inutes, sunk again, without knowing it herself, into languor and listlessness, m oving herself in her chair, from the irritation of weariness, m uch oftener than she m oved her needle. Mrs. Morland watched the progress of this relapse; and seeing, in her daughter’s absent and dissatisfied look, the full proof of that repining spirit to which she had now begun to attribute her want of cheerfulness, hastily left the room to fetch the book in question, anxious to lose no tim e in attacking so dreadful a m alady. It was som e tim e before she could find what she looked for; and other fam ily m atters occurring to detain her, a quarter of an hour had elapsed ere she returned downstairs with the volum e from which so m uch was hoped. Her avocations above having shut out all noise but what she created herself, she knew not that a visitor had arrived within the last few m inutes, till, on entering the room , the first obj ect she beheld was a y oung m an whom she had never seen before. With a look of m uch respect, he im m ediately rose, and being introduced to her by her conscious daughter as “Mr. Henry Tilney,” with the em barrassm ent of real sensibility began to apologize for his appearance there, acknowledging that after what had passed he had little right to expect a welcom e at Fullerton, and stating his im patience to be assured of Miss Morland’s having reached her hom e in safety, as the cause of his intrusion. He did not address him self to an uncandid j udge or a resentful heart. Far from com prehending him or his sister in their father’s m isconduct, Mrs. Morland had been alway s kindly disposed towards each, and instantly, pleased by his appearance, received him with the sim ple professions of unaffected benevolence; thanking him for such an attention to her daughter, assuring him that the friends of her children were alway s welcom e there, and entreating him to say not another word of the past.

He was not ill-inclined to obey this request, for, though his heart was

greatly relieved by such unlooked-for m ildness, it was not j ust at that m om ent in his power to say any thing to the purpose. Returning in silence to his seat, therefore, he rem ained for som e m inutes m ost civilly answering all Mrs. Morland’s com m on rem arks about the weather and roads. Catherine m eanwhile – the anxious, agitated, happy, feverish Catherine – said not a word; but her glowing cheek and brightened ey e m ade her m other trust that this good-natured visit would at least set her heart at ease for a tim e, and gladly therefore did she lay aside the first volum e of The Mirror for a future hour.

Desirous of Mr. Morland’s assistance, as well in giving encouragem ent,

as in finding conversation for her guest, whose em barrassm ent on his father’s account she earnestly pitied, Mrs. Morland had very early dispatched one of the children to sum m on him ; but Mr. Morland was from hom e – and being thus without any support, at the end of a quarter of an hour she had nothing to say. After a couple of m inutes’ unbroken silence, Henry, turning to Catherine for the first tim e since her m other’s entrance, asked her, with sudden alacrity, if Mr. and Mrs. Allen were now at Fullerton? And on developing, from am idst all her perplexity of words in reply, the m eaning, which one short sy llable would have given, im m ediately expressed his intention of pay ing his respects to them , and, with a rising colour, asked her if she would have the goodness to show him the way. “You m ay see the house from this window, sir,” was inform ation on Sarah’s side, which produced only a bow of acknowledgm ent from the gentlem an, and a silencing nod from her m other; for Mrs. Morland, thinking it probable, as a secondary consideration in his wish of waiting on their worthy neighbours, that he m ight have som e explanation to give of his father’s behaviour, which it m ust be m ore pleasant for him to com m unicate only to Catherine, would not on any account prevent her accom pany ing him . They began their walk, and Mrs. Morland was not entirely m istaken in his obj ect in wishing it. Som e explanation on his father’s account he had to give; but his first purpose was to explain him self, and before they reached Mr. Allen’s grounds he had done it so well that Catherine did not think it could ever be repeated too often. She was assured of his affection; and that heart in return was solicited, which, perhaps, they pretty equally knew was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was now sincerely attached to her, though he felt and delighted in all the excellencies of her character and truly loved her society, I m ust confess that his affection originated in nothing better than gratitude, or, in other words, that a persuasion of her partiality for him had been the only cause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circum stance in rom ance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine’s dignity ; but if it be as new in com m on life, the credit of a wild im agination will at least be all m y own.

A very short visit to Mrs. Allen, in which Henry talked at random ,

without sense or connection, and Catherine, rapt in the contem plation of her own unutterable happiness, scarcely opened her lips, dism issed them to the ecstasies of another tete-a-tete; and before it was suffered to close, she was enabled to j udge how far he was sanctioned by parental authority in his present application. On his return from Woodston, two day s before, he had been m et near the abbey by his im patient father, hastily inform ed in angry term s of Miss Morland’s departure, and ordered to think of her no m ore.

Such was the perm ission upon which he had now offered her his hand.

The affrighted Catherine, am idst all the terrors of expectation, as she listened to this account, could not but rej oice in the kind caution with which Henry had saved her from the necessity of a conscientious rej ection, by engaging her faith before he m entioned the subj ect; and as he proceeded to give the particulars, and explain the m otives of his father’s conduct, her feelings soon hardened into even a trium phant delight. The general had had nothing to accuse her of, nothing to lay to her charge, but her being the involuntary, unconscious obj ect of a deception which his pride could not pardon, and which a better pride would have been asham ed to own. She was guilty only of being less rich than he had supposed her to be. Under a m istaken persuasion of her possessions and claim s, he had courted her acquaintance in Bath, solicited her com pany at Northanger, and designed her for his daughter-in-law. On discovering his error, to turn her from the house seem ed the best, though to his feelings an inadequate proof of his resentm ent towards herself, and his contem pt of her fam ily.

John Thorpe had first m isled him . The general, perceiving his son one

night at the theatre to be pay ing considerable attention to Miss Morland, had accidentally inquired of Thorpe if he knew m ore of her than her nam e. Thorpe, m ost happy to be on speaking term s with a m an of General Tilney ’s im portance, had been j oy fully and proudly com m unicative; and being at that tim e not only in daily expectation of Morland’s engaging Isabella, but likewise pretty well resolved upon m arry ing Catherine him self, his vanity induced him to represent the fam ily as y et m ore wealthy than his vanity and avarice had m ade him believe them . With whom soever he was, or was likely to be connected, his own consequence alway s required that theirs should be great, and as his intim acy with any acquaintance grew, so regularly grew their fortune. The expectations of his friend Morland, therefore, from the first overrated, had ever since his introduction to Isabella been gradually increasing; and by m erely adding twice as m uch for the grandeur of the m om ent, by doubling what he chose to think the am ount of Mr. Morland’s preferm ent, trebling his private fortune, bestowing a rich aunt, and sinking half the children, he was able to represent the whole fam ily to the general in a m ost respectable light. For Catherine, however, the peculiar obj ect of the general’s curiosity, and his own speculations, he had y et som ething m ore in reserve, and the ten or fifteen thousand pounds which her father could give her would be a pretty addition to Mr. Allen’s estate. Her intim acy there had m ade him seriously determ ine on her being handsom ely legacied hereafter; and to speak of her therefore as the alm ost acknowledged future heiress of Fullerton naturally followed. Upon such intelligence the general had proceeded; for never had it occurred to him to doubt its authority. Thorpe’s interest in the fam ily, by his sister’s approaching connection with one of its m em bers, and his own views on another (circum stances of which he boasted with alm ost equal openness), seem ed sufficient vouchers for his truth; and to these were added the absolute facts of the Allens being wealthy and childless, of Miss Morland’s being under their care, and – as soon as his acquaintance allowed him to j udge – of their treating her with parental kindness. His resolution was soon form ed. Already had he discerned a liking towards Miss Morland in the countenance of his son; and thankful for Mr. Thorpe’s com m unication, he alm ost instantly determ ined to spare no pains in weakening his boasted interest and ruining his dearest hopes. Catherine herself could not be m ore ignorant at the tim e of all this, than his own children. Henry and Eleanor, perceiving nothing in her situation likely to engage their father’s particular respect, had seen with astonishm ent the suddenness, continuance, and extent of his attention; and though latterly, from som e hints which had accom panied an alm ost positive com m and to his son of doing every thing in his power to attach her, Henry was convinced of his father’s believing it to be an advantageous connection, it was not till the late explanation at Northanger that they had the sm allest idea of the false calculations which had hurried him on. That they were false, the general had learnt from the very person who had suggested them , from Thorpe him self, whom he had chanced to m eet again in town, and who, under the influence of exactly opposite feelings, irritated by Catherine’s refusal, and y et m ore by the failure of a very recent endeavour to accom plish a reconciliation between Morland and Isabella, convinced that they were separated forever, and spurning a friendship which could be no longer serviceable, hastened to contradict all that he had said before to the advantage of the Morlands – confessed him self to have been totally m istaken in his opinion of their circum stances and character, m isled by the rhodom ontade of his friend to believe his father a m an of substance and credit, whereas the transactions of the two or three last weeks proved him to be neither; for after com ing eagerly forward on the first overture of a m arriage between the fam ilies, with the m ost liberal proposals, he had, on being brought to the point by the shrewdness of the relator, been constrained to acknowledge him self incapable of giving the y oung people even a decent support. They were, in fact, a necessitous fam ily ; num erous, too, alm ost bey ond exam ple; by no m eans respected in their own neighbourhood, as he had lately had particular opportunities of discovering; aim ing at a sty le of life which their fortune could not warrant; seeking to better them selves by wealthy connections; a forward, bragging, schem ing race.

The terrified general pronounced the nam e of Allen with an inquiring

look; and here too Thorpe had learnt his error. The Allens, he believed, had lived near them too long, and he knew the y oung m an on whom the Fullerton estate m ust devolve. The general needed no m ore. Enraged with alm ost every body in the world but him self, he set out the next day for the abbey, where his perform ances have been seen.

I leave it to m y reader’s sagacity to determ ine how m uch of all this it

was possible for Henry to com m unicate at this tim e to Catherine, how m uch of it he could have learnt from his father, in what points his own conj ectures m ight assist him , and what portion m ust y et rem ain to be told in a letter from Jam es. I have united for their case what they m ust divide for m ine. Catherine, at any rate, heard enough to feel that in suspecting General Tilney of either m urdering or shutting up his wife, she had scarcely sinned against his character, or m agnified his cruelty.

Henry, in having such things to relate of his father, was alm ost as

pitiable as in their first avowal to him self. He blushed for the narrow-m inded counsel which he was obliged to expose. The conversation between them at Northanger had been of the m ost unfriendly kind. Henry ’s indignation on hearing how Catherine had been treated, on com prehending his father’s views, and being ordered to acquiesce in them , had been open and bold. The general, accustom ed on every ordinary occasion to give the law in his fam ily, prepared for no reluctance but of feeling, no opposing desire that should dare to clothe itself in words, could ill brook the opposition of his son, steady as the sanction of reason and the dictate of conscience could m ake it. But, in such a cause, his anger, though it m ust shock, could not intim idate Henry, who was sustained in his purpose by a conviction of its j ustice. He felt him self bound as m uch in honour as in affection to Miss Morland, and believing that heart to be his own which he had been directed to gain, no unworthy retraction of a tacit consent, no reversing decree of unj ustifiable anger, could shake his fidelity, or influence the resolutions it prom pted.

He steadily refused to accom pany his father into Herefordshire, an

engagem ent form ed alm ost at the m om ent to prom ote the dism issal of Catherine, and as steadily declared his intention of offering her his hand. The general was furious in his anger, and they parted in dreadful disagreem ent. Henry, in an agitation of m ind which m any solitary hours were required to com pose, had returned alm ost instantly to Woodston, and, on the afternoon of the following day, had begun his j ourney to Fullerton.