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<h2> CHAPTER 26 </h2>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>"But he will tell only half of it."</p>
<p>"A quarter would be enough."</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>"Go away!" said Catherine, with a very long face. "And why?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Oh! Not seriously!"</p>
<p>"Aye, and sadly too—for I had much rather stay."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>"I wish I could reason like you, for his sake and my own. Good-bye. As
tomorrow is Sunday, Eleanor, I shall not return."</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>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 two 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!"</p>
<p>"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!"</p>
<p>"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!"</p>
<p>"You like it—you approve it as an object—it is enough. Henry,
remember that Robinson is spoken to about it. The cottage remains."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
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