CHAPTER 29
Catherine was too wretched to be fearful. The journey in itself had noterrors for her; and she began it without either dreading its length orfeeling its solitariness. Leaning back in one corner of the carriage, ina violent burst of tears, she was conveyed some miles beyond the wallsof the abbey before she raised her head; and the highest point of groundwithin the park was almost closed from her view before she was capableof turning her eyes towards it. Unfortunately, the road she nowtravelled was the same which only ten days ago she had so happily passedalong in going to and from Woodston; and, for fourteen miles, everybitter feeling was rendered more severe by the review of objects onwhich she had first looked under impressions so different. Every mile,as it brought her nearer Woodston, added to her sufferings, and whenwithin the distance of five, she passed the turning which led to it, andthought of Henry, so near, yet so unconscious, her grief and agitationwere excessive.
The day which she had spent at that place had been one of the happiestof her life. It was there, it was on that day, that the general had madeuse of such expressions with regard to Henry and herself, had sospoken and so looked as to give her the most positive conviction of hisactually wishing their marriage. Yes, only ten days ago had heelated her by his pointed regard--had he even confused her by his toosignificant reference! And now--what had she done, or what had sheomitted to do, to merit such a change?
The only offence against him of which she could accuse herself had beensuch as was scarcely possible to reach his knowledge. Henry and her ownheart only were privy to the shocking suspicions which she had so idlyentertained; and equally safe did she believe her secret with each.Designedly, at least, Henry could not have betrayed her. If, indeed, byany strange mischance his father should have gained intelligence ofwhat she had dared to think and look for, of her causeless fanciesand injurious examinations, she could not wonder at any degree of hisindignation. If aware of her having viewed him as a murderer, she couldnot wonder at his even turning her from his house. But a justificationso full of torture to herself, she trusted, would not be in his power.
Anxious as were all her conjectures on this point, it was not, however,the one on which she dwelt most. There was a thought yet nearer, a moreprevailing, more impetuous concern. How Henry would think, and feel,and look, when he returned on the morrow to Northanger and heard ofher being gone, was a question of force and interest to rise over everyother, to be never ceasing, alternately irritating and soothing; itsometimes suggested the dread of his calm acquiescence, and at otherswas answered by the sweetest confidence in his regret and resentment. Tothe general, of course, he would not dare to speak; but to Eleanor--whatmight he not say to Eleanor about her?
In this unceasing recurrence of doubts and inquiries, on any one articleof which her mind was incapable of more than momentary repose, the hourspassed away, and her journey advanced much faster than she looked for.The pressing anxieties of thought, which prevented her from noticinganything before her, when once beyond the neighbourhood of Woodston,saved her at the same time from watching her progress; and though noobject on the road could engage a moment's attention, she found no stageof it tedious. From this, she was preserved too by another cause, byfeeling no eagerness for her journey's conclusion; for to return in sucha manner to Fullerton was almost to destroy the pleasure of a meetingwith those she loved best, even after an absence such as hers--an elevenweeks' absence. What had she to say that would not humble herself andpain her family, that would not increase her own grief by the confessionof it, extend an useless resentment, and perhaps involve the innocentwith the guilty in undistinguishing ill will? She could never do justiceto Henry and Eleanor's merit; she felt it too strongly for expression;and should a dislike be taken against them, should they be thought ofunfavourably, on their father's account, it would cut her to the heart.
With these feelings, she rather dreaded than sought for the first viewof that well-known spire which would announce her within twenty miles ofhome. Salisbury she had known to be her point on leaving Northanger; butafter the first stage she had been indebted to the post-masters for thenames of the places which were then to conduct her to it; so greathad been her ignorance of her route. She met with nothing, however,to distress or frighten her. Her youth, civil manners, and liberalpay procured her all the attention that a traveller like herself couldrequire; and stopping only to change horses, she travelled on forabout eleven hours without accident or alarm, and between six and seveno'clock in the evening found herself entering Fullerton.
A heroine returning, at the close of her career, to her native village,in all the triumph of recovered reputation, and all the dignity ofa countess, with a long train of noble relations in their severalphaetons, and three waiting-maids in a travelling chaise and four,behind her, is an event on which the pen of the contriver may welldelight to dwell; it gives credit to every conclusion, and the authormust share in the glory she so liberally bestows. But my affair iswidely different; I bring back my heroine to her home in solitude anddisgrace; and no sweet elation of spirits can lead me into minuteness.A heroine in a hack post-chaise is such a blow upon sentiment, as noattempt at grandeur or pathos can withstand. Swiftly therefore shall herpost-boy drive through the village, amid the gaze of Sunday groups, andspeedy shall be her descent from it.
But, whatever might be the distress of Catherine's mind, as she thusadvanced towards the parsonage, and whatever the humiliation of herbiographer in relating it, she was preparing enjoyment of no everydaynature for those to whom she went; first, in the appearance of hercarriage--and secondly, in herself. The chaise of a traveller beinga rare sight in Fullerton, the whole family were immediately at thewindow; and to have it stop at the sweep-gate was a pleasure to brightenevery eye and occupy every fancy--a pleasure quite unlooked for by allbut the two youngest children, a boy and girl of six and four years old,who expected a brother or sister in every carriage. Happy the glancethat first distinguished Catherine! Happy the voice that proclaimed thediscovery! But whether such happiness were the lawful property of Georgeor Harriet could never be exactly understood.
Her father, mother, Sarah, George, and Harriet, all assembled at thedoor to welcome her with affectionate eagerness, was a sight to awakenthe best feelings of Catherine's heart; and in the embrace of each, asshe stepped from the carriage, she found herself soothed beyond anythingthat she had believed possible. So surrounded, so caressed, she was evenhappy! In the joyfulness of family love everything for a short time wassubdued, and the pleasure of seeing her, leaving them at first littleleisure for calm curiosity, they were all seated round the tea-table,which Mrs. Morland had hurried for the comfort of the poor traveller,whose pale and jaded looks soon caught her notice, before any inquiry sodirect as to demand a positive answer was addressed to her.
Reluctantly, and with much hesitation, did she then begin what mightperhaps, at the end of half an hour, be termed, by the courtesy of herhearers, an explanation; but scarcely, within that time, could theyat all discover the cause, or collect the particulars, of her suddenreturn. They were far from being an irritable race; far from anyquickness in catching, or bitterness in resenting, affronts: but here,when the whole was unfolded, was an insult not to be overlooked, nor,for the first half hour, to be easily pardoned. Without suffering anyromantic alarm, in the consideration of their daughter's long and lonelyjourney, Mr. and Mrs. Morland could not but feel that it might have beenproductive of much unpleasantness to her; that it was what they couldnever have voluntarily suffered; and that, in forcing her on sucha measure, General Tilney had acted neither honourably norfeelingly--neither as a gentleman nor as a parent. Why he had done it,what could have provoked him to such a breach of hospitality, and sosuddenly turned all his partial regard for their daughter into actualill will, was a matter which they were at least as far from diviningas Catherine herself; but it did not oppress them by any means so long;and, after a due course of useless conjecture, that ”it was a strangebusiness, and that he must be a very strange man,” grew enough for alltheir indignation and wonder; though Sarah indeed still indulged in thesweets of incomprehensibility, exclaiming and conjecturing with youthfulardour. ”My dear, you give yourself a great deal of needless trouble,”said her mother at last; ”depend upon it, it is something not at allworth understanding.”
”I can allow for his wishing Catherine away, when he recollected thisengagement,” said Sarah, ”but why not do it civilly?”
”I am sorry for the young people,” returned Mrs. Morland; ”they musthave a sad time of it; but as for anything else, it is no matter now;Catherine is safe at home, and our comfort does not depend upon GeneralTilney.” Catherine sighed. ”Well,” continued her philosophic mother, ”Iam glad I did not know of your journey at the time; but now it is allover, perhaps there is no great harm done. It is always good foryoung people to be put upon exerting themselves; and you know, my dearCatherine, you always were a sad little scatter-brained creature; butnow you must have been forced to have your wits about you, with so muchchanging of chaises and so forth; and I hope it will appear that youhave not left anything behind you in any of the pockets.”
Catherine hoped so too, and tried to feel an interest in her ownamendment, but her spirits were quite worn down; and, to be silent andalone becoming soon her only wish, she readily agreed to her mother'snext counsel of going early to bed. Her parents, seeing nothing inher ill looks and agitation but the natural consequence of mortifiedfeelings, and of the unusual exertion and fatigue of such a journey,parted from her without any doubt of their being soon slept away; andthough, when they all met the next morning, her recovery was not equalto their hopes, they were still perfectly unsuspicious of there beingany deeper evil. They never once thought of her heart, which, for theparents of a young lady of seventeen, just returned from her firstexcursion from home, was odd enough!
As soon as breakfast was over, she sat down to fulfil her promise toMiss Tilney, whose trust in the effect of time and distance on herfriend's disposition was already justified, for already did Catherinereproach herself with having parted from Eleanor coldly, withhaving never enough valued her merits or kindness, and never enoughcommiserated her for what she had been yesterday left to endure. Thestrength of these feelings, however, was far from assisting her pen;and never had it been harder for her to write than in addressing EleanorTilney. To compose a letter which might at once do justice to hersentiments and her situation, convey gratitude without servile regret,be guarded without coldness, and honest without resentment--a letterwhich Eleanor might not be pained by the perusal of--and, above all,which she might not blush herself, if Henry should chance to see, was anundertaking to frighten away all her powers of performance; and, afterlong thought and much perplexity, to be very brief was all that shecould determine on with any confidence of safety. The money thereforewhich Eleanor had advanced was enclosed with little more than gratefulthanks, and the thousand good wishes of a most affectionate heart.
”This has been a strange acquaintance,” observed Mrs. Morland, as theletter was finished; ”soon made and soon ended. I am sorry it happensso, for Mrs. Allen thought them very pretty kind of young people; andyou were sadly out of luck too in your Isabella. Ah! Poor James! Well,we must live and learn; and the next new friends you make I hope will bebetter worth keeping.”
Catherine coloured as she warmly answered, ”No friend can be betterworth keeping than Eleanor.”
”If so, my dear, I dare say you will meet again some time or other; donot be uneasy. It is ten to one but you are thrown together again in thecourse of a few years; and then what a pleasure it will be!”
Mrs. Morland was not happy in her attempt at consolation. The hopeof meeting again in the course of a few years could only put intoCatherine's head what might happen within that time to make a meetingdreadful to her. She could never forget Henry Tilney, or think of himwith less tenderness than she did at that moment; but he might forgether; and in that case, to meet--! Her eyes filled with tears as shepictured her acquaintance so renewed; and her mother, perceiving hercomfortable suggestions to have had no good effect, proposed, as anotherexpedient for restoring her spirits, that they should call on Mrs.Allen.
The two houses were only a quarter of a mile apart; and, as they walked,Mrs. Morland quickly dispatched all that she felt on the score ofJames's disappointment. ”We are sorry for him,” said she; ”but otherwisethere is no harm done in the match going off; for it could not bea desirable thing to have him engaged to a girl whom we had not thesmallest acquaintance with, and who was so entirely without fortune; andnow, after such behaviour, we cannot think at all well of her. Just atpresent it comes hard to poor James; but that will not last forever; andI dare say he will be a discreeter man all his life, for the foolishnessof his first choice.”
This was just such a summary view of the affair as Catherine couldlisten to; another sentence might have endangered her complaisance,and made her reply less rational; for soon were all her thinking powersswallowed up in the reflection of her own change of feelings and spiritssince last she had trodden that well-known road. It was not three monthsago since, wild with joyful expectation, she had there run backwardsand forwards some ten times a day, with an heart light, gay, andindependent; looking forward to pleasures untasted and unalloyed, andfree from the apprehension of evil as from the knowledge of it. Threemonths ago had seen her all this; and now, how altered a being did shereturn!
She was received by the Allens with all the kindness which herunlooked-for appearance, acting on a steady affection, would naturallycall forth; and great was their surprise, and warm their displeasure,on hearing how she had been treated--though Mrs. Morland's account ofit was no inflated representation, no studied appeal to their passions.”Catherine took us quite by surprise yesterday evening,” said she. ”Shetravelled all the way post by herself, and knew nothing of coming tillSaturday night; for General Tilney, from some odd fancy or other, allof a sudden grew tired of having her there, and almost turned her outof the house. Very unfriendly, certainly; and he must be a very oddman; but we are so glad to have her amongst us again! And it is a greatcomfort to find that she is not a poor helpless creature, but can shiftvery well for herself.”
Mr. Allen expressed himself on the occasion with the reasonableresentment of a sensible friend; and Mrs. Allen thought his expressionsquite good enough to be immediately made use of again by herself. Hiswonder, his conjectures, and his explanations became in succession hers,with the addition of this single remark--”I really have not patiencewith the general”--to fill up every accidental pause. And, ”I reallyhave not patience with the general,” was uttered twice after Mr.Allen left the room, without any relaxation of anger, or any materialdigression of thought. A more considerable degree of wandering attendedthe third repetition; and, after completing the fourth, she immediatelyadded, ”Only think, my dear, of my having got that frightful great rentin my best Mechlin so charmingly mended, before I left Bath, that onecan hardly see where it was. I must show it you some day or other. Bathis a nice place, Catherine, after all. I assure you I did not above halflike coming away. Mrs. Thorpe's being there was such a comfort to us,was not it? You know, you and I were quite forlorn at first.”
”Yes, but that did not last long,” said Catherine, her eyes brighteningat the recollection of what had first given spirit to her existencethere.
”Very true: we soon met with Mrs. Thorpe, and then we wanted fornothing. My dear, do not you think these silk gloves wear very well?I put them on new the first time of our going to the Lower Rooms, youknow, and I have worn them a great deal since. Do you remember thatevening?”
”Do I! Oh! Perfectly.”
”It was very agreeable, was not it? Mr. Tilney drank tea with us, and Ialways thought him a great addition, he is so very agreeable. I have anotion you danced with him, but am not quite sure. I remember I had myfavourite gown on.”
Catherine could not answer; and, after a short trial of other subjects,Mrs. Allen again returned to--”I really have not patience with thegeneral! Such an agreeable, worthy man as he seemed to be! I do notsuppose, Mrs. Morland, you ever saw a better-bred man in your life. Hislodgings were taken the very day after he left them, Catherine. But nowonder; Milsom Street, you know.”
As they walked home again, Mrs. Morland endeavoured to impress on herdaughter's mind the happiness of having such steady well-wishers as Mr.and Mrs. Allen, and the very little consideration which the neglect orunkindness of slight acquaintance like the Tilneys ought to have withher, while she could preserve the good opinion and affection of herearliest friends. There was a great deal of good sense in all this; butthere are some situations of the human mind in which good sense hasvery little power; and Catherine's feelings contradicted almost everyposition her mother advanced. It was upon the behaviour of these veryslight acquaintance that all her present happiness depended; andwhile Mrs. Morland was successfully confirming her own opinions by thejustness of her own representations, Catherine was silently reflectingthat now Henry must have arrived at Northanger; now he must have heardof her departure; and now, perhaps, they were all setting off forHereford.