An hour passed away before the general came in, spent, on the part
of his young guest, in no very favourable consideration of his
character. "This lengthened absence, these solitary rambles, did
not speak a mind at ease, or a conscience void of reproach." At
length he appeared; and, whatever might have been the gloom
of his meditations, he could still smile with them. Miss Tilney,
understanding in part her friend's curiosity to see the house, soon
revived the subject; and her father being, contrary to Catherine's
expectations, unprovided with any pretence for further delay, beyond
that of stopping five minutes to order refreshments to be in the
room by their return, was at last ready to escort them.
They set forward; and, with a grandeur of air, a dignified step,
which caught the eye, but could not shake the doubts of the well-read
Catherine, he led the way across the hall, through the common
drawing-room and one useless antechamber, into a room magnificent
both in size and furniture -- the real drawing-room, used only with
company of consequence. It was very noble -- very grand -- very
charming! -- was all that Catherine had to say, for her indiscriminating
eye scarcely discerned the colour of the satin; and all minuteness
of praise, all praise that had much meaning, was supplied by the
general: the costliness or elegance of any room's fitting-up could
be nothing to her; she cared for no furniture of a more modern
date than the fifteenth century. When the general had satisfied
his own curiosity, in a close examination of every well-known
ornament, they proceeded into the library, an apartment, in its
way, of equal magnificence, exhibiting a collection of books, on
which an humble man might have looked with pride. Catherine heard,
admired, and wondered with more genuine feeling than before --
gathered all that she could from this storehouse of knowledge, by
running over the titles of half a shelf, and was ready to proceed.
But suites of apartments did not spring up with her wishes. Large
as was the building, she had already visited the greatest part;
though, on being told that, with the addition of the kitchen, the
six or seven rooms she had now seen surrounded three sides of the
court, she could scarcely believe it, or overcome the suspicion of
there being many chambers secreted. It was some relief, however,
that they were to return to the rooms in common use, by passing
through a few of less importance, looking into the court, which,
with occasional passages, not wholly unintricate, connected the
different sides; and she was further soothed in her progress by
being told that she was treading what had once been a cloister,
having traces of cells pointed out, and observing several doors
that were neither opened nor explained to her -- by finding herself
successively in a billiard-room, and in the general's private
apartment, without comprehending their connection, or being able
to turn aright when she left them; and lastly, by passing through
a dark little room, owning Henry's authority, and strewed with his
litter of books, guns, and greatcoats.
From the dining-room, of which, though already seen, and always to
be seen at five o'clock, the general could not forgo the pleasure
of pacing out the length, for the more certain information of
Miss Morland, as to what she neither doubted nor cared for, they
proceeded by quick communication to the kitchen -- the ancient
kitchen of the convent, rich in the massy walls and smoke of former
days, and in the stoves and hot closets of the present. The general's
improving hand had not loitered here: every modern invention to
facilitate the labour of the cooks had been adopted within this,
their spacious theatre; and, when the genius of others had failed,
his own had often produced the perfection wanted. His endowments
of this spot alone might at any time have placed him high among
the benefactors of the convent.
With the walls of the kitchen ended all the antiquity of the abbey;
the fourth side of the quadrangle having, on account of its decaying
state, been removed by the general's father, and the present erected in
its place. All that was venerable ceased here. The new building
was not only new, but declared itself to be so; intended only
for offices, and enclosed behind by stable-yards, no uniformity
of architecture had been thought necessary. Catherine could have
raved at the hand which had swept away what must have been beyond
the value of all the rest, for the purposes of mere domestic economy;
and would willingly have been spared the mortification of a walk
through scenes so fallen, had the general allowed it; but if he
had a vanity, it was in the arrangement of his offices; and as he
was convinced that, to a mind like Miss Morland's, a view of the
accommodations and comforts, by which the labours of her inferiors
were softened, must always be gratifying, he should make no apology
for leading her on. They took a slight survey of all; and Catherine
was impressed, beyond her expectation, by their multiplicity and
their convenience. The purposes for which a few shapeless pantries
and a comfortless scullery were deemed sufficient at Fullerton,
were here carried on in appropriate divisions, commodious and roomy.
The number of servants continually appearing did not strike her
less than the number of their offices. Wherever they went, some
pattened girl stopped to curtsy, or some footman in dishabille
sneaked off. Yet this was an abbey! How inexpressibly different
in these domestic arrangements from such as she had read about --
from abbeys and castles, in which, though certainly larger than
Northanger, all the dirty work of the house was to be done by two
pair of female hands at the utmost. How they could get through it
all had often amazed Mrs. Allen; and, when Catherine saw what was
necessary here, she began to be amazed herself.
They returned to the hall, that the chief staircase might be
ascended, and the beauty of its wood, and ornaments of rich carving
might be pointed out: having gained the top, they turned in an
opposite direction from the gallery in which her room lay, and shortly
entered one on the same plan, but superior in length and breadth.
She was here shown successively into three large bed-chambers,
with their dressing-rooms, most completely and handsomely fitted
up; everything that money and taste could do, to give comfort and
elegance to apartments, had been bestowed on these; and, being
furnished within the last five years, they were perfect in all that
would be generally pleasing, and wanting in all that could give
pleasure to Catherine. As they were surveying the last, the general,
after slightly naming a few of the distinguished characters by whom
they had at times been honoured, turned with a smiling countenance
to Catherine, and ventured to hope that henceforward some of their
earliest tenants might be "our friends from Fullerton." She felt
the unexpected compliment, and deeply regretted the impossibility
of thinking well of a man so kindly disposed towards herself, and
so full of civility to all her family.
The gallery was terminated by folding doors, which Miss Tilney,
advancing, had thrown open, and passed through, and seemed on the
point of doing the same by the first door to the left, in another
long reach of gallery, when the general, coming forwards, called her
hastily, and, as Catherine thought, rather angrily back, demanding
whether she were going? -- And what was there more to be seen?
-- Had not Miss Morland already seen all that could be worth her
notice? -- And did she not suppose her friend might be glad of some
refreshment after so much exercise? Miss Tilney drew back directly,
and the heavy doors were closed upon the mortified Catherine, who,
having seen, in a momentary glance beyond them, a narrower passage,
more numerous openings, and symptoms of a winding staircase,
believed herself at last within the reach of something worth her
notice; and felt, as she unwillingly paced back the gallery, that
she would rather be allowed to examine that end of the house than
see all the finery of all the rest. The general's evident desire
of preventing such an examination was an additional stimulant.
Something was certainly to be concealed; her fancy, though it had
trespassed lately once or twice, could not mislead her here; and
what that something was, a short sentence of Miss Tilney's, as they
followed the general at some distance downstairs, seemed to point
out: "I was going to take you into what was my mother's room
-- the room in which she died -- " were all her words; but few as
they were, they conveyed pages of intelligence to Catherine. It
was no wonder that the general should shrink from the sight of
such objects as that room must contain; a room in all probability
never entered by him since the dreadful scene had passed, which
released his suffering wife, and left him to the stings of conscience.
She ventured, when next alone with Eleanor, to express her wish of
being permitted to see it, as well as all the rest of that side of
the house; and Eleanor promised to attend her there, whenever they
should have a convenient hour. Catherine understood her: the general
must be watched from home, before that room could be entered. "It
remains as it was, I suppose?" said she, in a tone of feeling.
"Yes, entirely."
"And how long ago may it be that your mother died?"
"She has been dead these nine years." And nine years, Catherine
knew, was a trifle of time, compared with what generally elapsed
after the death of an injured wife, before her room was put to
rights.
"You were with her, I suppose, to the last?"
"No," said Miss Tilney, sighing; "I was unfortunately from home.
Her illness was sudden and short; and, before I arrived it was all
over."
Catherine's blood ran cold with the horrid suggestions which
naturally sprang from these words. Could it be possible? Could
Henry's father -- ? And yet how many were the examples to justify
even the blackest suspicions! And, when she saw him in the evening,
while she worked with her friend, slowly pacing the drawing-room
for an hour together in silent thoughtfulness, with downcast eyes
and contracted brow, she felt secure from all possibility of wronging
him. It was the air and attitude of a Montoni! What could more
plainly speak the gloomy workings of a mind not wholly dead to every
sense of humanity, in its fearful review of past scenes of guilt?
Unhappy man! And the anxiousness of her spirits directed her eyes
towards his figure so repeatedly, as to catch Miss Tilney's notice.
"My father," she whispered, "often walks about the room in this
way; it is nothing unusual."
"So much the worse!" thought Catherine; such ill-timed exercise
was of a piece with the strange unseasonableness of his morning
walks, and boded nothing good.
After an evening, the little variety and seeming length of which
made her peculiarly sensible of Henry's importance among them, she
was heartily glad to be dismissed; though it was a look from the
general not designed for her observation which sent his daughter
to the bell. When the butler would have lit his master's candle,
however, he was forbidden. The latter was not going to retire.
"I have many pamphlets to finish," said he to Catherine, "before
I can close my eyes, and perhaps may be poring over the affairs of
the nation for hours after you are asleep. Can either of us be
more meetly employed? My eyes will be blinding for the good of
others, and yours preparing by rest for future mischief."
But neither the business alleged, nor the magnificent compliment,
could win Catherine from thinking that some very different object
must occasion so serious a delay of proper repose. To be kept up
for hours, after the family were in bed, by stupid pamphlets was
not very likely. There must be some deeper cause: something was
to be done which could be done only while the household slept;
and the probability that Mrs. Tilney yet lived, shut up for causes
unknown, and receiving from the pitiless hands of her husband a
nightly supply of coarse food, was the conclusion which necessarily
followed. Shocking as was the idea, it was at least better than a
death unfairly hastened, as, in the natural course of things, she
must ere long be released. The suddenness of her reputed illness,
the absence of her daughter, and probably of her other children,
at the time -- all favoured the supposition of her imprisonment.
Its origin -- jealousy perhaps, or wanton cruelty -- was yet to be
unravelled.
In revolving these matters, while she undressed, it suddenly struck
her as not unlikely that she might that morning have passed near
the very spot of this unfortunate woman's confinement -- might
have been within a few paces of the cell in which she languished
out her days; for what part of the abbey could be more fitted for
the purpose than that which yet bore the traces of monastic division?
In the high-arched passage, paved with stone, which already she had
trodden with peculiar awe, she well remembered the doors of which
the general had given no account. To what might not those doors
lead? In support of the plausibility of this conjecture, it
further occurred to her that the forbidden gallery, in which lay
the apartments of the unfortunate Mrs. Tilney, must be, as certainly
as her memory could guide her, exactly over this suspected range of
cells, and the staircase by the side of those apartments of which
she had caught a transient glimpse, communicating by some secret
means with those cells, might well have favoured the barbarous
proceedings of her husband. Down that staircase she had perhaps
been conveyed in a state of well-prepared insensibility!
Catherine sometimes started at the boldness of her own surmises,
and sometimes hoped or feared that she had gone too far; but they
were supported by such appearances as made their dismissal impossible.
The side of the quadrangle, in which she supposed the guilty scene
to be acting, being, according to her belief, just opposite her
own, it struck her that, if judiciously watched, some rays of light
from the general's lamp might glimmer through the lower windows, as
he passed to the prison of his wife; and, twice before she stepped
into bed, she stole gently from her room to the corresponding
window in the gallery, to see if it appeared; but all abroad was
dark, and it must yet be too early. The various ascending noises
convinced her that the servants must still be up. Till midnight,
she supposed it would be in vain to watch; but then, when the
clock had struck twelve, and all was quiet, she would, if not quite
appalled by darkness, steal out and look once more. The clock
struck twelve -- and Catherine had been half an hour asleep.