CHAPTER 20
Mr. and Mrs. Allen were sorry to lose their young friend, whose goodhumour and cheerfulness had made her a valuable companion, and in thepromotion of whose enjoyment their own had been gently increased. Herhappiness in going with Miss Tilney, however, prevented their wishingit otherwise; and, as they were to remain only one more week in Baththemselves, her quitting them now would not long be felt. Mr. Allenattended her to Milsom Street, where she was to breakfast, and saw herseated with the kindest welcome among her new friends; but so great washer agitation in finding herself as one of the family, and so fearfulwas she of not doing exactly what was right, and of not being able topreserve their good opinion, that, in the embarrassment of the firstfive minutes, she could almost have wished to return with him toPulteney Street.
Miss Tilney's manners and Henry's smile soon did away some of herunpleasant feelings; but still she was far from being at ease; nor couldthe incessant attentions of the general himself entirely reassure her.Nay, perverse as it seemed, she doubted whether she might not have feltless, had she been less attended to. His anxiety for her comfort--hiscontinual solicitations that she would eat, and his often-expressedfears of her seeing nothing to her taste--though never in her lifebefore had she beheld half such variety on a breakfast-table--made itimpossible for her to forget for a moment that she was a visitor. Shefelt utterly unworthy of such respect, and knew not how to reply to it.Her tranquillity was not improved by the general's impatience for theappearance of his eldest son, nor by the displeasure he expressed at hislaziness when Captain Tilney at last came down. She was quite pained bythe severity of his father's reproof, which seemed disproportionate tothe offence; and much was her concern increased when she found herselfthe principal cause of the lecture, and that his tardiness was chieflyresented from being disrespectful to her. This was placing her in avery uncomfortable situation, and she felt great compassion for CaptainTilney, without being able to hope for his goodwill.
He listened to his father in silence, and attempted not any defence,which confirmed her in fearing that the inquietude of his mind, onIsabella's account, might, by keeping him long sleepless, have beenthe real cause of his rising late. It was the first time of her beingdecidedly in his company, and she had hoped to be now able to formher opinion of him; but she scarcely heard his voice while his fatherremained in the room; and even afterwards, so much were his spiritsaffected, she could distinguish nothing but these words, in a whisper toEleanor, ”How glad I shall be when you are all off.”
The bustle of going was not pleasant. The clock struck ten while thetrunks were carrying down, and the general had fixed to be out of MilsomStreet by that hour. His greatcoat, instead of being brought for himto put on directly, was spread out in the curricle in which he was toaccompany his son. The middle seat of the chaise was not drawn out,though there were three people to go in it, and his daughter's maid hadso crowded it with parcels that Miss Morland would not have room to sit;and, so much was he influenced by this apprehension when he handed herin, that she had some difficulty in saving her own new writing-desk frombeing thrown out into the street. At last, however, the door was closedupon the three females, and they set off at the sober pace in whichthe handsome, highly fed four horses of a gentleman usually perform ajourney of thirty miles: such was the distance of Northanger from Bath,to be now divided into two equal stages. Catherine's spirits revived asthey drove from the door; for with Miss Tilney she felt no restraint;and, with the interest of a road entirely new to her, of an abbeybefore, and a curricle behind, she caught the last view of Bath withoutany regret, and met with every milestone before she expected it. Thetediousness of a two hours' wait at Petty France, in which there wasnothing to be done but to eat without being hungry, and loiter aboutwithout anything to see, next followed--and her admiration of the stylein which they travelled, of the fashionable chaise and four--postilionshandsomely liveried, rising so regularly in their stirrups, andnumerous outriders properly mounted, sunk a little under this consequentinconvenience. Had their party been perfectly agreeable, the delay wouldhave been nothing; but General Tilney, though so charming a man, seemedalways a check upon his children's spirits, and scarcely anything wassaid but by himself; the observation of which, with his discontent atwhatever the inn afforded, and his angry impatience at the waiters, madeCatherine grow every moment more in awe of him, and appeared to lengthenthe two hours into four. At last, however, the order of release wasgiven; and much was Catherine then surprised by the general's proposalof her taking his place in his son's curricle for the rest of thejourney: ”the day was fine, and he was anxious for her seeing as much ofthe country as possible.”
The remembrance of Mr. Allen's opinion, respecting young men's opencarriages, made her blush at the mention of such a plan, and her firstthought was to decline it; but her second was of greater deference forGeneral Tilney's judgment; he could not propose anything improper forher; and, in the course of a few minutes, she found herself with Henryin the curricle, as happy a being as ever existed. A very short trialconvinced her that a curricle was the prettiest equipage in the world;the chaise and four wheeled off with some grandeur, to be sure, but itwas a heavy and troublesome business, and she could not easily forgetits having stopped two hours at Petty France. Half the time wouldhave been enough for the curricle, and so nimbly were the light horsesdisposed to move, that, had not the general chosen to have his owncarriage lead the way, they could have passed it with ease in half aminute. But the merit of the curricle did not all belong to the horses;Henry drove so well--so quietly--without making any disturbance,without parading to her, or swearing at them: so different from the onlygentleman-coachman whom it was in her power to compare him with! Andthen his hat sat so well, and the innumerable capes of his greatcoatlooked so becomingly important! To be driven by him, next to beingdancing with him, was certainly the greatest happiness in the world. Inaddition to every other delight, she had now that of listening to herown praise; of being thanked at least, on his sister's account, forher kindness in thus becoming her visitor; of hearing it ranked as realfriendship, and described as creating real gratitude. His sister, hesaid, was uncomfortably circumstanced--she had no female companion--and,in the frequent absence of her father, was sometimes without anycompanion at all.
”But how can that be?” said Catherine. ”Are not you with her?”
”Northanger is not more than half my home; I have an establishment atmy own house in Woodston, which is nearly twenty miles from my father's,and some of my time is necessarily spent there.”
”How sorry you must be for that!”
”I am always sorry to leave Eleanor.”
”Yes; but besides your affection for her, you must be so fond ofthe abbey! After being used to such a home as the abbey, an ordinaryparsonage-house must be very disagreeable.”
He smiled, and said, ”You have formed a very favourable idea of theabbey.”
”To be sure, I have. Is not it a fine old place, just like what onereads about?”
”And are you prepared to encounter all the horrors that a building suchas 'what one reads about' may produce? Have you a stout heart? Nervesfit for sliding panels and tapestry?”
”Oh! yes--I do not think I should be easily frightened, because therewould be so many people in the house--and besides, it has never beenuninhabited and left deserted for years, and then the family come backto it unawares, without giving any notice, as generally happens.”
”No, certainly. We shall not have to explore our way into a hall dimlylighted by the expiring embers of a wood fire--nor be obliged to spreadour beds on the floor of a room without windows, doors, or furniture.But you must be aware that when a young lady is (by whatever means)introduced into a dwelling of this kind, she is always lodged apart fromthe rest of the family. While they snugly repair to their own end of thehouse, she is formally conducted by Dorothy, the ancient housekeeper, upa different staircase, and along many gloomy passages, into an apartmentnever used since some cousin or kin died in it about twenty yearsbefore. Can you stand such a ceremony as this? Will not your mindmisgive you when you find yourself in this gloomy chamber--too lofty andextensive for you, with only the feeble rays of a single lamp to takein its size--its walls hung with tapestry exhibiting figures as large aslife, and the bed, of dark green stuff or purple velvet, presenting evena funereal appearance? Will not your heart sink within you?”
”Oh! But this will not happen to me, I am sure.”
”How fearfully will you examine the furniture of your apartment! Andwhat will you discern? Not tables, toilettes, wardrobes, or drawers,but on one side perhaps the remains of a broken lute, on the other aponderous chest which no efforts can open, and over the fireplacethe portrait of some handsome warrior, whose features will soincomprehensibly strike you, that you will not be able to withdraw youreyes from it. Dorothy, meanwhile, no less struck by your appearance,gazes on you in great agitation, and drops a few unintelligible hints.To raise your spirits, moreover, she gives you reason to suppose thatthe part of the abbey you inhabit is undoubtedly haunted, and informsyou that you will not have a single domestic within call. With thisparting cordial she curtsies off--you listen to the sound of herreceding footsteps as long as the last echo can reach you--and when,with fainting spirits, you attempt to fasten your door, you discover,with increased alarm, that it has no lock.”
”Oh! Mr. Tilney, how frightful! This is just like a book! But it cannotreally happen to me. I am sure your housekeeper is not really Dorothy.Well, what then?”
”Nothing further to alarm perhaps may occur the first night. Aftersurmounting your unconquerable horror of the bed, you will retire torest, and get a few hours' unquiet slumber. But on the second, or atfarthest the third night after your arrival, you will probably have aviolent storm. Peals of thunder so loud as to seem to shake the edificeto its foundation will roll round the neighbouring mountains--and duringthe frightful gusts of wind which accompany it, you will probably thinkyou discern (for your lamp is not extinguished) one part of the hangingmore violently agitated than the rest. Unable of course to repress yourcuriosity in so favourable a moment for indulging it, you will instantlyarise, and throwing your dressing-gown around you, proceed to examinethis mystery. After a very short search, you will discover a division inthe tapestry so artfully constructed as to defy the minutest inspection,and on opening it, a door will immediately appear--which door, beingonly secured by massy bars and a padlock, you will, after a few efforts,succeed in opening--and, with your lamp in your hand, will pass throughit into a small vaulted room.”
”No, indeed; I should be too much frightened to do any such thing.”
”What! Not when Dorothy has given you to understand that there is asecret subterraneous communication between your apartment and the chapelof St. Anthony, scarcely two miles off? Could you shrink from so simplean adventure? No, no, you will proceed into this small vaulted room,and through this into several others, without perceiving anything veryremarkable in either. In one perhaps there may be a dagger, in anothera few drops of blood, and in a third the remains of some instrument oftorture; but there being nothing in all this out of the common way,and your lamp being nearly exhausted, you will return towards your ownapartment. In repassing through the small vaulted room, however, youreyes will be attracted towards a large, old-fashioned cabinet of ebonyand gold, which, though narrowly examining the furniture before, youhad passed unnoticed. Impelled by an irresistible presentiment, you willeagerly advance to it, unlock its folding doors, and search intoevery drawer--but for some time without discovering anything ofimportance--perhaps nothing but a considerable hoard of diamonds. Atlast, however, by touching a secret spring, an inner compartment willopen--a roll of paper appears--you seize it--it contains many sheets ofmanuscript--you hasten with the precious treasure into your own chamber,but scarcely have you been able to decipher 'Oh! Thou--whomsoever thoumayst be, into whose hands these memoirs of the wretched Matilda mayfall'--when your lamp suddenly expires in the socket, and leaves you intotal darkness.”
”Oh! No, no--do not say so. Well, go on.”
But Henry was too much amused by the interest he had raised to be ableto carry it farther; he could no longer command solemnity either ofsubject or voice, and was obliged to entreat her to use her own fancyin the perusal of Matilda's woes. Catherine, recollecting herself, grewashamed of her eagerness, and began earnestly to assure him that herattention had been fixed without the smallest apprehension of reallymeeting with what he related. ”Miss Tilney, she was sure, would neverput her into such a chamber as he had described! She was not at allafraid.”
As they drew near the end of their journey, her impatience for a sightof the abbey--for some time suspended by his conversation on subjectsvery different--returned in full force, and every bend in the road wasexpected with solemn awe to afford a glimpse of its massy walls of greystone, rising amidst a grove of ancient oaks, with the last beams of thesun playing in beautiful splendour on its high Gothic windows. But solow did the building stand, that she found herself passing through thegreat gates of the lodge into the very grounds of Northanger, withouthaving discerned even an antique chimney.
She knew not that she had any right to be surprised, but there was asomething in this mode of approach which she certainly had not expected.To pass between lodges of a modern appearance, to find herself with suchease in the very precincts of the abbey, and driven so rapidly along asmooth, level road of fine gravel, without obstacle, alarm, or solemnityof any kind, struck her as odd and inconsistent. She was not longat leisure, however, for such considerations. A sudden scud of rain,driving full in her face, made it impossible for her to observe anythingfurther, and fixed all her thoughts on the welfare of her new strawbonnet; and she was actually under the abbey walls, was springing, withHenry's assistance, from the carriage, was beneath the shelter of theold porch, and had even passed on to the hall, where her friend andthe general were waiting to welcome her, without feeling one awfulforeboding of future misery to herself, or one moment's suspicion of anypast scenes of horror being acted within the solemn edifice. The breezehad not seemed to waft the sighs of the murdered to her; it had waftednothing worse than a thick mizzling rain; and having given a good shaketo her habit, she was ready to be shown into the common drawing-room,and capable of considering where she was.
An abbey! Yes, it was delightful to be really in an abbey! But shedoubted, as she looked round the room, whether anything within herobservation would have given her the consciousness. The furniture was inall the profusion and elegance of modern taste. The fireplace, where shehad expected the ample width and ponderous carving of former times, wascontracted to a Rumford, with slabs of plain though handsome marble, andornaments over it of the prettiest English china. The windows, to whichshe looked with peculiar dependence, from having heard the general talkof his preserving them in their Gothic form with reverential care, wereyet less what her fancy had portrayed. To be sure, the pointed archwas preserved--the form of them was Gothic--they might be evencasements--but every pane was so large, so clear, so light! To animagination which had hoped for the smallest divisions, and the heavieststone-work, for painted glass, dirt, and cobwebs, the difference wasvery distressing.
The general, perceiving how her eye was employed, began to talk of thesmallness of the room and simplicity of the furniture, where everything,being for daily use, pretended only to comfort, etc.; flatteringhimself, however, that there were some apartments in the Abbey notunworthy her notice--and was proceeding to mention the costly gildingof one in particular, when, taking out his watch, he stopped short topronounce it with surprise within twenty minutes of five! This seemedthe word of separation, and Catherine found herself hurried away by MissTilney in such a manner as convinced her that the strictest punctualityto the family hours would be expected at Northanger.
Returning through the large and lofty hall, they ascended a broadstaircase of shining oak, which, after many flights and manylanding-places, brought them upon a long, wide gallery. On one side ithad a range of doors, and it was lighted on the other by windows whichCatherine had only time to discover looked into a quadrangle, beforeMiss Tilney led the way into a chamber, and scarcely staying to hope shewould find it comfortable, left her with an anxious entreaty that shewould make as little alteration as possible in her dress.