第 二十六 章 · 第26章

From this time, the subject was frequently canvassed by the three young

people; and Catherine found, with some surprise, that her two young

friends were perfectly agreed in considering Isabella’s want of

consequence and fortune as likely to throw great difficulties in the

way of her marrying their brother. Their persuasion that the General

would, upon this ground alone, independent of the objection that might

be raised against her character, oppose the connection, turned her

feelings moreover with some alarm towards herself. She was as

insignificant, and perhaps as portionless, as Isabella; and if the heir

of the Tilney property had not grandeur and wealth enough in himself,

at what point of interest were the demands of his younger brother to

rest? The very painful reflections to which this thought led could only

be dispersed by a dependence on the effect of that particular

partiality, which, as she was given to understand by his words as well

as his actions, she had from the first been so fortunate as to excite

in the General; and by a recollection of some most generous and

disinterested sentiments on the subject of money, which she had more

than once heard him utter, and which tempted her to think his

disposition in such matters misunderstood by his children.

They were so fully convinced, however, that their brother would not

have the courage to apply in person for his father’s consent, and so

repeatedly assured her that he had never in his life been less likely

to come to Northanger than at the present time, that she suffered her

mind to be at ease as to the necessity of any sudden removal of her

own. But as it was not to be supposed that Captain Tilney, whenever he

made his application, would give his father any just idea of Isabella’s

conduct, it occurred to her as highly expedient that Henry should lay

the whole business before him as it really was, enabling the General by

that means to form a cool and impartial opinion, and prepare his

objections on a fairer ground than inequality of situations. She

proposed it to him accordingly; but he did not catch at the measure so

eagerly as she had expected. “No,” said he, “my father’s hands need not

be strengthened, and Frederick’s confession of folly need not be

forestalled. He must tell his own story.”

“But he will tell only half of it.”

“A quarter would be enough.”

A day or two passed away and brought no tidings of Captain Tilney. His

brother and sister knew not what to think. Sometimes it appeared to

them as if his silence would be the natural result of the suspected

engagement, and at others that it was wholly incompatible with it. The

General, meanwhile, though offended every morning by Frederick’s

remissness in writing, was free from any real anxiety about him, and

had no more pressing solicitude than that of making Miss Morland’s time

at Northanger pass pleasantly. He often expressed his uneasiness on

this head, feared the sameness of every day’s society and employments

would disgust her with the place, wished the Lady Frasers had been in

the country, talked every now and then of having a large party to

dinner, and once or twice began even to calculate the number of young

dancing people in the neighbourhood. But then it was such a dead time

of year, no wild-fowl, no game, and the Lady Frasers were not in the

country. And it all ended, at last, in his telling Henry one morning

that when he next went to Woodston, they would take him by surprise

there some day or other, and eat their mutton with him. Henry was

greatly honoured and very happy, and Catherine was quite delighted with

the scheme. “And when do you think, sir, I may look forward to this

pleasure? I must be at Woodston on Monday to attend the parish meeting,

and shall probably be obliged to stay two or three days.”

“Well, well, we will take our chance some one of those days. There is

no need to fix. You are not to put yourself at all out of your way.

Whatever you may happen to have in the house will be enough. I think I

can answer for the young ladies making allowance for a bachelor’s

table. Let me see; Monday will be a busy day with you, we will not come

on Monday; and Tuesday will be a busy one with me. I expect my surveyor

from Brockham with his report in the morning; and afterwards I cannot

in decency fail attending the club. I really could not face my

acquaintance if I stayed away now; for, as I am known to be in the

country, it would be taken exceedingly amiss; and it is a rule with me,

Miss Morland, never to give offence to any of my neighbours, if a small

sacrifice of time and attention can prevent it. They are a set of very

worthy men. They have half a buck from Northanger twice a year; and I

dine with them whenever I can. Tuesday, therefore, we may say is out of

the question. But on Wednesday, I think, Henry, you may expect us; and

we shall be with you early, that we may have time to look about us. Two

hours and three quarters will carry us to Woodston, I suppose; we shall

be in the carriage by ten; so, about a quarter before one on Wednesday,

you may look for us.”

A ball itself could not have been more welcome to Catherine than this

little excursion, so strong was her desire to be acquainted with

Woodston; and her heart was still bounding with joy when Henry, about

an hour afterwards, came booted and greatcoated into the room where she

and Eleanor were sitting, and said, “I am come, young ladies, in a very

moralizing strain, to observe that our pleasures in this world are

always to be paid for, and that we often purchase them at a great

disadvantage, giving ready-monied actual happiness for a draft on the

future, that may not be honoured. Witness myself, at this present hour.

Because I am to hope for the satisfaction of seeing you at Woodston on

Wednesday, which bad weather, or twenty other causes, may prevent, I

must go away directly, two days before I intended it.”

“Go away!” said Catherine, with a very long face. “And why?”

“Why! how can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in

frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and

prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.”

“Oh! not seriously!”

“Aye, and sadly too—for I had much rather stay.”

“But how can you think of such a thing, after what the General said?

When he so particularly desired you not to give yourself any trouble,

because _anything_ would do.”

Henry only smiled. “I am sure it is quite unnecessary upon your

sister’s account and mine. You must know it to be so; and the General

made such a point of your providing nothing extraordinary: besides, if

he had not said half so much as he did, he has always such an excellent

dinner at home, that sitting down to a middling one for one day could

not signify.”

“I wish I could reason like you, for his sake and my own. Good-bye. As

to-morrow is Sunday, Eleanor, I shall not return.”

He went; and, it being at any time a much simpler operation to

Catherine to doubt her own judgment than Henry’s, she was very soon

obliged to give him credit for being right, however disagreeable to her

his going. But the inexplicability of the General’s conduct dwelt much

on her thoughts. That he was very particular in his eating, she had, by

her own unassisted observation, already discovered; but why he should

say one thing so positively, and mean another all the while, was most

unaccountable! how were people, at that rate, to be understood? Who but

Henry could have been aware of what his father was at?

From Saturday to Wednesday, however, they were now to be without Henry.

This was the sad finale of every reflection: and Captain Tilney’s

letter would certainly come in his absence; and Wednesday she was very

sure would be wet. The past, present, and future were all equally in

gloom. Her brother so unhappy, and her loss in Isabella so great; and

Eleanor’s spirits always affected by Henry’s absence! what was there to

interest or amuse her? She was tired of the woods and the

shrubberies—always so smooth and so dry; and the abbey in itself was no

more to her now than any other house. The painful remembrance of the

folly it had helped to nourish and perfect was the only emotion which

could spring from a consideration of the building. What a revolution in

her ideas! she, who had so longed to be in an abbey! now, there was

nothing so charming to her imagination as the unpretending comfort of a

well-connected parsonage, something like Fullerton, but better:

Fullerton had its faults, but Woodston probably had none. If Wednesday

should ever come!

It did come, and exactly when it might be reasonably looked for. It

came—it was fine—and Catherine trod on air. By ten o’clock, the chaise

and four conveyed the trio from the abbey; and, after an agreeable

drive of almost twenty miles, they entered Woodston, a large and

populous village, in a situation not unpleasant. Catherine was ashamed

to say how pretty she thought it, as the General seemed to think an

apology necessary for the flatness of the country, and the size of the

village; but in her heart she preferred it to any place she had ever

been at, and looked with great admiration at every neat house above the

rank of a cottage, and at all the little chandler’s shops which they

passed. At the further end of the village, and tolerably disengaged

from the rest of it, stood the parsonage, a new-built substantial stone

house, with its semicircular sweep and green gates; and, as they drove

up to the door, Henry, with the friends of his solitude, a large

Newfoundland puppy and two or three terriers, was ready to receive and

make much of them.

Catherine’s mind was too full, as she entered the house, for her either

to observe or to say a great deal; and, till called on by the General

for her opinion of it, she had very little idea of the room in which

she was sitting. Upon looking round it then, she perceived in a moment

that it was the most comfortable room in the world; but she was too

guarded to say so, and the coldness of her praise disappointed him.

“We are not calling it a good house,” said he. “We are not comparing it

with Fullerton and Northanger—we are considering it as a mere

parsonage, small and confined, we allow, but decent, perhaps, and

habitable; and altogether not inferior to the generality; or, in other

words, I believe there are few country parsonages in England half so

good. It may admit of improvement, however. Far be it from me to say

otherwise; and anything in reason—a bow thrown out, perhaps—though,

between ourselves, if there is one thing more than another my aversion,

it is a patched-on bow.”

Catherine did not hear enough of this speech to understand or be pained

by it; and other subjects being studiously brought forward and

supported by Henry, at the same time that a tray full of refreshments

was introduced by his servant, the General was shortly restored to his

complacency, and Catherine to all her usual ease of spirits.

The room in question was of a commodious, well-proportioned size, and

handsomely fitted up as a dining-parlour; and on their quitting it to

walk round the grounds, she was shown, first into a smaller apartment,

belonging peculiarly to the master of the house, and made unusually

tidy on the occasion; and afterwards into what was to be the

drawing-room, with the appearance of which, though unfurnished,

Catherine was delighted enough even to satisfy the General. It was a

prettily shaped room, the windows reaching to the ground, and the view

from them pleasant, though only over green meadows; and she expressed

her admiration at the moment with all the honest simplicity with which

she felt it. “Oh! why do not you fit up this room, Mr. Tilney? What a

pity not to have it fitted up! it is the prettiest room I ever saw; it

is the prettiest room in the world!”

“I trust,” said the General, with a most satisfied smile, “that it will

very speedily be furnished: it waits only for a lady’s taste!”

“Well, if it was my house, I should never sit anywhere else. Oh! what a

sweet little cottage there is among the trees—apple trees, too! it is

the prettiest cottage!”

“You like it—you approve it as an object—it is enough. Henry, remember

that Robinson is spoken to about it. The cottage remains.”

Such a compliment recalled all Catherine’s consciousness, and silenced

her directly; and, though pointedly applied to by the General for her

choice of the prevailing colour of the paper and hangings, nothing like

an opinion on the subject could be drawn from her. The influence of

fresh objects and fresh air, however, was of great use in dissipating

these embarrassing associations; and, having reached the ornamental

part of the premises, consisting of a walk round two sides of a meadow,

on which Henry’s genius had begun to act about half a year ago, she was

sufficiently recovered to think it prettier than any pleasure-ground

she had ever been in before, though there was not a shrub in it higher

than the green bench in the corner.

A saunter into other meadows, and through part of the village, with a

visit to the stables to examine some improvements, and a charming game

of play with a litter of puppies just able to roll about, brought them

to four o’clock, when Catherine scarcely thought it could be three. At

four they were to dine, and at six to set off on their return. Never

had any day passed so quickly!

She could not but observe that the abundance of the dinner did not seem

to create the smallest astonishment in the General; nay, that he was

even looking at the side-table for cold meat which was not there. His

son and daughter’s observations were of a different kind. They had

seldom seen him eat so heartily at any table but his own, and never

before known him so little disconcerted by the melted butter’s being

oiled.

At six o’clock, the General having taken his coffee, the carriage again

received them; and so gratifying had been the tenor of his conduct

throughout the whole visit, so well assured was her mind on the subject

of his expectations, that, could she have felt equally confident of the

wishes of his son, Catherine would have quitted Woodston with little

anxiety as to the How or the When she might return to it.