Chapter 23

by Jane Austen

　　An hour passed away before the generalcame in, spent, on the part of his young guest,in no very favourable consideration of his character."This lengthened absence, these solitary rambles, did notspeak a mind at ease, or a conscience void of reproach."At length he appeared; and, whatever might have been thegloom of his meditations, he could still smile with them.Miss Tilney, understanding in part her friend'scuriosity 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 refreshmentsto be in the room by their return, was at last readyto escort them.

　　They set forward; and, with a grandeur of air,a dignified step, which caught the eye, but could notshake the doubts of the well-read Catherine, he ledthe way across the hall, through the common drawing-roomand one useless antechamber, into a room magnificentboth in size and furniture--the real drawing-room, usedonly with company of consequence. It was very noble--verygrand--very charming!--was all that Catherine had to say,for her indiscriminating eye scarcely discerned the colourof the satin; and all minuteness of praise, all praisethat had much meaning, was supplied by the general:the costliness or elegance of any room's fitting-upcould be nothing to her; she cared for no furnitureof 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 genuinefeeling than before--gathered all that she could fromthis storehouse of knowledge, by running over the titlesof half a shelf, and was ready to proceed. But suitesof apartments did not spring up with her wishes.Large as was the building, she had already visitedthe greatest part; though, on being told that,with the addition of the kitchen, the six or seven roomsshe had now seen surrounded three sides of the court,she could scarcely believe it, or overcome the suspicionof there being many chambers secreted. It was some relief,however, that they were to return to the rooms incommon 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 toldthat she was treading what had once been a cloister,having traces of cells pointed out, and observing severaldoors that were neither opened nor explained to her--byfinding herself successively in a billiard-room, and inthe general's private apartment, without comprehendingtheir connection, or being able to turn aright when sheleft them; and lastly, by passing through a dark little room,owning Henry's authority, and strewed with his litterof books, guns, and greatcoats.

　　From the dining-room, of which, though already seen,and always to be seen at five o'clock, the generalcould 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 wallsand smoke of former days, and in the stoves and hotclosets of the present. The general's improving hand hadnot loitered here: every modern invention to facilitatethe labour of the cooks had been adopted within this,their spacious theatre; and, when the genius of othershad failed, his own had often produced the perfection wanted.His endowments of this spot alone might at any timehave placed him high among the benefactors of the convent.

　　With the walls of the kitchen ended all the antiquityof the abbey; the fourth side of the quadrangle having,on account of its decaying state, been removed by thegeneral's father, and the present erected in its place.All that was venerable ceased here. The new building wasnot only new, but declared itself to be so; intended onlyfor offices, and enclosed behind by stable-yards, nouniformity of architecture had been thought necessary.Catherine could have raved at the hand which had sweptaway what must have been beyond the value of all the rest,for the purposes of mere domestic economy; and wouldwillingly have been spared the mortification of a walkthrough scenes so fallen, had the general allowed it;but if he had a vanity, it was in the arrangement ofhis offices; and as he was convinced that, to a mind likeMiss 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 apologyfor leading her on. They took a slight survey of all;and Catherine was impressed, beyond her expectation,by their multiplicity and their convenience. The purposesfor which a few shapeless pantries and a comfortlessscullery were deemed sufficient at Fullerton, were herecarried on in appropriate divisions, commodious and roomy.The number of servants continually appearing did notstrike 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 wasan abbey! How inexpressibly different in these domesticarrangements from such as she had read about--fromabbeys and castles, in which, though certainly largerthan Northanger, all the dirty work of the house wasto 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 beganto be amazed herself.

　　They returned to the hall, that the chief staircasemight be ascended, and the beauty of its wood, and ornamentsof rich carving might be pointed out: having gainedthe top, they turned in an opposite direction from thegallery in which her room lay, and shortly entered oneon the same plan, but superior in length and breadth.She was here shown successively into three largebed-chambers, with their dressing-rooms, most completelyand handsomely fitted up; everything that money and tastecould do, to give comfort and elegance to apartments,had been bestowed on these; and, being furnished withinthe last five years, they were perfect in all that wouldbe generally pleasing, and wanting in all that could givepleasure to Catherine. As they were surveying the last,the general, after slightly naming a few of the distinguishedcharacters by whom they had at times been honoured,turned with a smiling countenance to Catherine,and ventured to hope that henceforward some of theirearliest tenants might be "our friends from Fullerton."She felt the unexpected compliment, and deeply regrettedthe impossibility of thinking well of a man so kindly disposedtowards herself, and so full of civility to all her family.

　　The gallery was terminated by folding doors, which MissTilney, advancing, had thrown open, and passed through,and seemed on the point of doing the same by the firstdoor 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 whethershe were going?--And what was there more to be seen?--Hadnot Miss Morland already seen all that could be worthher notice?--And did she not suppose her friend might beglad of some refreshment after so much exercise? MissTilney drew back directly, and the heavy doors wereclosed 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 somethingworth her notice; and felt, as she unwillingly paced backthe gallery, that she would rather be allowed to examinethat end of the house than see all the finery of allthe rest. The general's evident desire of preventingsuch 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 followedthe general at some distance downstairs, seemed to pointout: "I was going to take you into what was my mother'sroom--the room in which she died--" were all her words;but few as they were, they conveyed pages of intelligenceto Catherine. It was no wonder that the general shouldshrink from the sight of such objects as that roommust contain; a room in all probability never enteredby him since the dreadful scene had passed, which releasedhis 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 theyshould have a convenient hour. Catherine understood her:the general must be watched from home, before that roomcould 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 whatgenerally 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 unfortunatelyfrom home. Her illness was sudden and short; and, before Iarrived it was all over."

　　Catherine's blood ran cold with the horridsuggestions which naturally sprang from these words.Could it be possible? Could Henry's father--? And yethow many were the examples to justify even the blackestsuspicions! And, when she saw him in the evening,while she worked with her friend, slowly pacing thedrawing-room for an hour together in silent thoughtfulness,with downcast eyes and contracted brow, she felt securefrom all possibility of wronging him. It was the airand attitude of a Montoni! What could more plainly speakthe gloomy workings of a mind not wholly dead to everysense of humanity, in its fearful review of past scenesof guilt? Unhappy man! And the anxiousness of her spiritsdirected 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-timedexercise was of a piece with the strange unseasonablenessof his morning walks, and boded nothing good.

　　After an evening, the little variety and seeminglength of which made her peculiarly sensible of Henry'simportance among them, she was heartily glad to be dismissed;though it was a look from the general not designed forher 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 overthe affairs of the nation for hours after you are asleep.Can either of us be more meetly employed? My eyes willbe blinding for the good of others, and yours preparingby rest for future mischief."

　　But neither the business alleged, nor the magnificentcompliment, could win Catherine from thinking that somevery different object must occasion so serious a delayof proper repose. To be kept up for hours, after the familywere in bed, by stupid pamphlets was not very likely.There must be some deeper cause: something was to be donewhich could be done only while the household slept;and the probability that Mrs. Tilney yet lived, shut upfor causes unknown, and receiving from the pitilesshands 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 thana death unfairly hastened, as, in the natural courseof things, she must ere long be released. The suddennessof her reputed illness, the absence of her daughter,and probably of her other children, at the time--all favouredthe supposition of her imprisonment. Its origin--jealousyperhaps, or wanton cruelty--was yet to be unravelled.

　　In revolving these matters, while she undressed,it suddenly struck her as not unlikely that she mightthat morning have passed near the very spot of thisunfortunate woman's confinement--might have been within a fewpaces of the cell in which she languished out her days;for what part of the abbey could be more fitted for thepurpose than that which yet bore the traces of monasticdivision? In the high-arched passage, paved with stone,which already she had trodden with peculiar awe,she well remembered the doors of which the generalhad given no account. To what might not those doorslead? 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 staircaseby the side of those apartments of which she had caughta transient glimpse, communicating by some secret meanswith those cells, might well have favoured the barbarousproceedings of her husband. Down that staircase shehad perhaps been conveyed in a state of well-preparedinsensibility!

　　Catherine sometimes started at the boldness of herown surmises, and sometimes hoped or feared that she hadgone too far; but they were supported by such appearancesas made their dismissal impossible.

　　The side of the quadrangle, in which she supposedthe guilty scene to be acting, being, according toher belief, just opposite her own, it struck her that,if judiciously watched, some rays of light from thegeneral's lamp might glimmer through the lower windows,as he passed to the prison of his wife; and, twice beforeshe stepped into bed, she stole gently from her room to thecorresponding 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 theservants must still be up. Till midnight, she supposedit would be in vain to watch; but then, when the clockhad struck twelve, and all was quiet, she would, if notquite appalled by darkness, steal out and look once more.The clock struck twelve--and Catherine had been halfan hour asleep.