by Jane Austen
CHAPTER 30
Catherine's disposition was not naturally sedentary, nor had her habitsbeen ever very industrious; but whatever might hitherto have been herdefects of that sort, her mother could not but perceive them now to begreatly increased. She could neither sit still nor employ herself forten minutes together, walking round the garden and orchard again andagain, as if nothing but motion was voluntary; and it seemed as if shecould even walk about the house rather than remain fixed for any timein the parlour. Her loss of spirits was a yet greater alteration. In herrambling and her idleness she might only be a caricature of herself; butin her silence and sadness she was the very reverse of all that she hadbeen before.
For two days Mrs. Morland allowed it to pass even without a hint;but when a third night's rest had neither restored her cheerfulness,improved her in useful activity, nor given her a greater inclination forneedlework, she could no longer refrain from the gentle reproof of, "Mydear Catherine, I am afraid you are growing quite a fine lady. I do notknow when poor Richard's cravats would be done, if he had no friendbut you. Your head runs too much upon Bath; but there is a time foreverything--a time for balls and plays, and a time for work. You havehad a long run of amusement, and now you must try to be useful."
Catherine took up her work directly, saying, in a dejected voice, that"her head did not run upon Bath--much."
"Then you are fretting about General Tilney, and that is very simpleof you; for ten to one whether you ever see him again. You should neverfret about trifles." After a short silence--"I hope, my Catherine, youare not getting out of humour with home because it is not so grandas Northanger. That would be turning your visit into an evil indeed.Wherever you are you should always be contented, but especially at home,because there you must spend the most of your time. I did not quitelike, at breakfast, to hear you talk so much about the French bread atNorthanger."
"I am sure I do not care about the bread. It is all the same to me whatI eat."
"There is a very clever essay in one of the books upstairs upon muchsuch a subject, about young girls that have been spoilt for home bygreat acquaintance--The Mirror, I think. I will look it out for you someday or other, because I am sure it will do you good."
Catherine said no more, and, with an endeavour to do right, appliedto her work; but, after a few minutes, sunk again, without knowing itherself, into languor and listlessness, moving herself in her chair,from the irritation of weariness, much oftener than she moved herneedle. Mrs. Morland watched the progress of this relapse; and seeing,in her daughter's absent and dissatisfied look, the full proof of thatrepining spirit to which she had now begun to attribute her want ofcheerfulness, hastily left the room to fetch the book in question,anxious to lose no time in attacking so dreadful a malady. It was sometime before she could find what she looked for; and other family mattersoccurring to detain her, a quarter of an hour had elapsed ere shereturned downstairs with the volume from which so much was hoped. Heravocations above having shut out all noise but what she created herself,she knew not that a visitor had arrived within the last few minutes,till, on entering the room, the first object she beheld was a youngman whom she had never seen before. With a look of much respect, heimmediately rose, and being introduced to her by her conscious daughteras "Mr. Henry Tilney," with the embarrassment of real sensibility beganto apologize for his appearance there, acknowledging that after what hadpassed he had little right to expect a welcome at Fullerton, and statinghis impatience to be assured of Miss Morland's having reached her homein safety, as the cause of his intrusion. He did not address himself toan uncandid judge or a resentful heart. Far from comprehending him orhis sister in their father's misconduct, Mrs. Morland had been alwayskindly disposed towards each, and instantly, pleased by his appearance,received him with the simple professions of unaffected benevolence;thanking him for such an attention to her daughter, assuring him thatthe friends of her children were always welcome there, and entreatinghim to say not another word of the past.
He was not ill-inclined to obey this request, for, though his heart wasgreatly relieved by such unlooked-for mildness, it was not just at thatmoment in his power to say anything to the purpose. Returning in silenceto his seat, therefore, he remained for some minutes most civillyanswering all Mrs. Morland's common remarks about the weather androads. Catherine meanwhile--the anxious, agitated, happy, feverishCatherine--said not a word; but her glowing cheek and brightened eyemade her mother trust that this good-natured visit would at least sether heart at ease for a time, and gladly therefore did she lay aside thefirst volume of The Mirror for a future hour.
Desirous of Mr. Morland's assistance, as well in giving encouragement,as in finding conversation for her guest, whose embarrassment on hisfather's account she earnestly pitied, Mrs. Morland had very earlydispatched one of the children to summon him; but Mr. Morland was fromhome--and being thus without any support, at the end of a quarter ofan hour she had nothing to say. After a couple of minutes' unbrokensilence, Henry, turning to Catherine for the first time since hermother's entrance, asked her, with sudden alacrity, if Mr. and Mrs.Allen were now at Fullerton? And on developing, from amidst all herperplexity of words in reply, the meaning, which one short syllablewould have given, immediately expressed his intention of paying hisrespects to them, and, with a rising colour, asked her if she wouldhave the goodness to show him the way. "You may see the house from thiswindow, sir," was information on Sarah's side, which produced only abow of acknowledgment from the gentleman, and a silencing nod fromher mother; for Mrs. Morland, thinking it probable, as a secondaryconsideration in his wish of waiting on their worthy neighbours, that hemight have some explanation to give of his father's behaviour, which itmust be more pleasant for him to communicate only to Catherine, wouldnot on any account prevent her accompanying him. They began their walk,and Mrs. Morland was not entirely mistaken in his object in wishing it.Some explanation on his father's account he had to give; but his firstpurpose was to explain himself, and before they reached Mr. Allen'sgrounds he had done it so well that Catherine did not think it couldever be repeated too often. She was assured of his affection; and thatheart in return was solicited, which, perhaps, they pretty equallyknew was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was now sincerelyattached to her, though he felt and delighted in all the excellenciesof her character and truly loved her society, I must confess that hisaffection originated in nothing better than gratitude, or, in otherwords, that a persuasion of her partiality for him had been the onlycause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circumstance inromance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine'sdignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wildimagination will at least be all my own.
A very short visit to Mrs. Allen, in which Henry talked at random,without sense or connection, and Catherine, rapt in the contemplation ofher own unutterable happiness, scarcely opened her lips, dismissed themto the ecstasies of another tete-a-tete; and before it was suffered toclose, she was enabled to judge how far he was sanctioned by parentalauthority in his present application. On his return from Woodston, twodays before, he had been met near the abbey by his impatient father,hastily informed in angry terms of Miss Morland's departure, and orderedto think of her no more.
Such was the permission upon which he had now offered her his hand.The affrighted Catherine, amidst all the terrors of expectation, as shelistened to this account, could not but rejoice in the kind cautionwith which Henry had saved her from the necessity of a conscientiousrejection, by engaging her faith before he mentioned the subject; andas he proceeded to give the particulars, and explain the motives ofhis father's conduct, her feelings soon hardened into even a triumphantdelight. The general had had nothing to accuse her of, nothing to layto her charge, but her being the involuntary, unconscious object of adeception which his pride could not pardon, and which a better pridewould have been ashamed to own. She was guilty only of being less richthan he had supposed her to be. Under a mistaken persuasion of herpossessions and c
laims, he had courted her acquaintance in Bath,solicited her company at Northanger, and designed her for hisdaughter-in-law. On discovering his error, to turn her from the houseseemed the best, though to his feelings an inadequate proof of hisresentment towards herself, and his contempt of her family.
John Thorpe had first misled him. The general, perceiving his sonone night at the theatre to be paying considerable attention to MissMorland, had accidentally inquired of Thorpe if he knew more of herthan her name. Thorpe, most happy to be on speaking terms with a manof General Tilney's importance, had been joyfully and proudlycommunicative; and being at that time not only in daily expectationof Morland's engaging Isabella, but likewise pretty well resolved uponmarrying Catherine himself, his vanity induced him to represent thefamily as yet more wealthy than his vanity and avarice had made himbelieve them. With whomsoever he was, or was likely to be connected, hisown consequence always required that theirs should be great, and as hisintimacy with any acquaintance grew, so regularly grew their fortune.The expectations of his friend Morland, therefore, from the firstoverrated, had ever since his introduction to Isabella been graduallyincreasing; and by merely adding twice as much for the grandeur of themoment, by doubling what he chose to think the amount of Mr. Morland'spreferment, trebling his private fortune, bestowing a rich aunt, andsinking half the children, he was able to represent the whole familyto the general in a most respectable light. For Catherine, however, thepeculiar object of the general's curiosity, and his own speculations,he had yet something more in reserve, and the ten or fifteen thousandpounds which her father could give her would be a pretty addition to Mr.Allen's estate. Her intimacy there had made him seriously determine onher being handsomely legacied hereafter; and to speak of her thereforeas the almost acknowledged future heiress of Fullerton naturallyfollowed. Upon such intelligence the general had proceeded; for neverhad it occurred to him to doubt its authority. Thorpe's interest in thefamily, by his sister's approaching connection with one of its members,and his own views on another (circumstances of which he boasted withalmost equal openness), seemed sufficient vouchers for his truth; andto these were added the absolute facts of the Allens being wealthy andchildless, of Miss Morland's being under their care, and--as soon as hisacquaintance allowed him to judge--of their treating her with parentalkindness. His resolution was soon formed. Already had he discerned aliking towards Miss Morland in the countenance of his son; and thankfulfor Mr. Thorpe's communication, he almost instantly determined to spareno pains in weakening his boasted interest and ruining his dearesthopes. Catherine herself could not be more ignorant at the time of allthis, than his own children. Henry and Eleanor, perceiving nothing inher situation likely to engage their father's particular respect, hadseen with astonishment the suddenness, continuance, and extent of hisattention; and though latterly, from some hints which had accompanied analmost positive command to his son of doing everything in his power toattach her, Henry was convinced of his father's believing it to bean advantageous connection, it was not till the late explanation atNorthanger that they had the smallest idea of the false calculationswhich had hurried him on. That they were false, the general had learntfrom the very person who had suggested them, from Thorpe himself, whomhe had chanced to meet again in town, and who, under the influence ofexactly opposite feelings, irritated by Catherine's refusal, andyet more by the failure of a very recent endeavour to accomplish areconciliation between Morland and Isabella, convinced that they wereseparated forever, and spurning a friendship which could be no longerserviceable, hastened to contradict all that he had said before tothe advantage of the Morlands--confessed himself to have been totallymistaken in his opinion of their circumstances and character, misled bythe rhodomontade of his friend to believe his father a man of substanceand credit, whereas the transactions of the two or three last weeksproved him to be neither; for after coming eagerly forward on the firstoverture of a marriage between the families, with the most liberalproposals, he had, on being brought to the point by the shrewdness ofthe relator, been constrained to acknowledge himself incapable ofgiving the young people even a decent support. They were, in fact, anecessitous family; numerous, too, almost beyond example; by no meansrespected in their own neighbourhood, as he had lately had particularopportunities of discovering; aiming at a style of life which theirfortune could not warrant; seeking to better themselves by wealthyconnections; a forward, bragging, scheming race.
The terrified general pronounced the name of Allen with an inquiringlook; and here too Thorpe had learnt his error. The Allens, he believed,had lived near them too long, and he knew the young man on whom theFullerton estate must devolve. The general needed no more. Enraged withalmost everybody in the world but himself, he set out the next day forthe abbey, where his performances have been seen.
I leave it to my reader's sagacity to determine how much of all thisit was possible for Henry to communicate at this time to Catherine, howmuch of it he could have learnt from his father, in what points his ownconjectures might assist him, and what portion must yet remain to betold in a letter from James. I have united for their ease what they mustdivide for mine. Catherine, at any rate, heard enough to feel that insuspecting General Tilney of either murdering or shutting up his wife,she had scarcely sinned against his character, or magnified his cruelty.
Henry, in having such things to relate of his father, was almostas pitiable as in their first avowal to himself. He blushed for thenarrow-minded counsel which he was obliged to expose. The conversationbetween them at Northanger had been of the most unfriendly kind. Henry'sindignation on hearing how Catherine had been treated, on comprehendinghis father's views, and being ordered to acquiesce in them, had beenopen and bold. The general, accustomed on every ordinary occasion togive the law in his family, prepared for no reluctance but of feeling,no opposing desire that should dare to clothe itself in words, could illbrook the opposition of his son, steady as the sanction of reason andthe dictate of conscience could make it. But, in such a cause, hisanger, though it must shock, could not intimidate Henry, who wassustained in his purpose by a conviction of its justice. He felt himselfbound as much in honour as in affection to Miss Morland, and believingthat heart to be his own which he had been directed to gain, no unworthyretraction of a tacit consent, no reversing decree of unjustifiableanger, could shake his fidelity, or influence the resolutions itprompted.
He steadily refused to accompany his father into Herefordshire, anengagement formed almost at the moment to promote the dismissal ofCatherine, and as steadily declared his intention of offering her hishand. The general was furious in his anger, and they parted in dreadfuldisagreement. Henry, in an agitation of mind which many solitary hourswere required to compose, had returned almost instantly to Woodston,and, on the afternoon of the following day, had begun his journey toFullerton.
