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CHAPTER
22
The housemaid's folding back her window-shutters at eight o'clock the next
day was the sound which first roused Catherine; and she opened her eyes,
wondering that they could ever have been closed, on objects of cheerfulness;
her fire was already burning, and a bright morning had succeeded the tempest of
the night. Instantaneously, with the consciousness of existence, returned her
recollection of the manuscript; and springing from the bed in the very moment
of the maid's going away, she eagerly collected every scattered sheet which had
burst from the roll on its falling to the ground, and flew back to enjoy the
luxury of their perusal on her pillow. She now plainly saw that she must not
expect a manuscript of equal length with the generality of what she had
shuddered over in books, for the roll, seeming to consist entirely of small
disjointed sheets, was altogether but of trifling size, and much less than she
had supposed it to be at first.
Her greedy eye glanced rapidly over a page. She started at its import. Could
it be possible, or did not her senses play her false? An inventory of linen, in
coarse and modern characters, seemed all that was before her! If the evidence
of sight might be trusted, she held a washing-bill in her hand. She seized
another sheet, and saw the same articles with little variation; a third, a
fourth, and a fifth presented nothing new. Shirts, stockings, cravats, and
waistcoats faced her in each. Two others, penned by the same hand, marked an expenditure scarcely more interesting, in letters,
hair-powder, shoe-string, and breeches-ball. And the larger sheet, which had
enclosed the rest, seemed by its first cramp line, "To poultice chestnut
mare"--a farrier's bill! Such was the collection
of papers (left perhaps, as she could then suppose, by the negligence of a servant
in the place whence she had taken them) which had filled her with expectation
and alarm, and robbed her of half her night's rest! She felt humbled to the
dust. Could not the adventure of the chest have taught her wisdom? A corner of
it, catching her eye as she lay, seemed to rise up in judgment against her.
Nothing could now be clearer than the absurdity of her recent fancies. To
suppose that a manuscript of many generations back could have remained
undiscovered in a room such as that, so modern, so habitable!--Or that she
should be the first to possess the skill of unlocking a cabinet, the key of
which was open to all!
How could she have so imposed on herself? Heaven forbid that Henry Tilney should ever know her folly! And it was in a great
measure his own doing, for had not the cabinet appeared so exactly to agree
with his description of her adventures, she should never have felt the smallest
curiosity about it. This was the only comfort that occurred. Impatient to get
rid of those hateful evidences of her folly, those detestable papers then
scattered over the bed, she rose directly, and folding them up as nearly as
possible in the same shape as before, returned them to the same spot within the
cabinet, with a very hearty wish that no untoward accident might ever bring
them forward again, to disgrace her even with herself.
Why the locks should have been so difficult to open, however, was still
something remarkable, for she could now manage them with perfect ease. In this
there was surely something mysterious, and she indulged in the flattering
suggestion for half a minute, till the possibility of the door's having been at
first unlocked, and of being herself its fastener, darted into her head, and
cost her another blush.
She got away as soon as she could from a room in which her conduct produced
such unpleasant reflections, and found her way with all speed to the breakfast-parlour, as it had been pointed out to her by Miss Tilney the evening before. Henry was alone in it; and his
immediate hope of her having been undisturbed by the tempest, with an arch
reference to the character of the building they inhabited, was rather
distressing. For the world would she not have her weakness suspected, and yet,
unequal to an absolute falsehood, was constrained to acknowledge that the wind
had kept her awake a little. "But we have a charming morning after
it," she added, desiring to get rid of the subject; "and storms and
sleeplessness are nothing when they are over. What beautiful hyacinths! I have
just learnt to love a hyacinth."
"And how might you learn? By accident or
argument?"
"Your sister taught me; I cannot tell how. Mrs. Allen used to take
pains, year after year, to make me like them; but I never could, till I saw
them the other day in Milsom
Street; I am naturally indifferent about
flowers."
"But now you love a hyacinth. So much the better.
You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds
upon happiness as possible. Besides, a taste for flowers is always desirable in
your sex, as a means of getting you out of doors, and tempting you to more
frequent exercise than you would otherwise take. And though the love of a
hyacinth may be rather domestic, who can tell, the sentiment once raised, but you may in time come to love a rose?"
"But I do not want any such pursuit to get me out of doors. The
pleasure of walking and breathing fresh air is enough for me, and in fine
weather I am out more than half my time. Mamma says I am never within."
"At any rate, however, I am pleased that you have learnt to love a
hyacinth. The mere habit of learning to love is the thing; and a teachableness of disposition in a young lady is a great
blessing. Has my sister a pleasant mode of instruction?"
Catherine was saved the embarrassment of attempting an answer by the
entrance of the general, whose smiling compliments announced a happy state of
mind, but whose gentle hint of sympathetic early rising did not advance her
composure.
The elegance of the breakfast set forced itself on Catherine's notice when they
were seated at table; and, lucidly, it had been the general's choice. He was
enchanted by her approbation of his taste, confessed it to be neat and simple,
thought it right to encourage the manufacture of his country; and for his part,
to his uncritical palate, the tea was as well flavoured
from the clay of Staffordshire, as from that of Dresden or Save. But this was
quite an old set, purchased two years ago. The manufacture was much improved
since that time; he had seen some beautiful specimens when last in town, and
had he not been perfectly without vanity of that kind, might have been tempted
to order a new set. He trusted, however, that an opportunity might ere long
occur of selecting one--though not for himself.
Catherine was probably the only one of the party who did not understand him.
Shortly after breakfast Henry left them for Woodston,
where business required and would keep him two or three days. They all attended
in the hall to see him mount his horse, and immediately on re-entering the
breakfast-room, Catherine walked to a window in the hope of catching another
glimpse of his figure. "This is a somewhat heavy call upon your brother's
fortitude," observed the general to Eleanor. "Woodston
will make but a sombre appearance today."
"Is it a pretty place?" asked Catherine.
"What say you, Eleanor? Speak your opinion, for ladies can best tell
the taste of ladies in regard to places as well as men. I think it would be
acknowledged by the most impartial eye to have many recommendations. The house
stands among fine meadows facing the south-east, with an excellent
kitchen-garden in the same aspect; the walls surrounding which I built and
stocked myself about ten years ago, for the benefit of my son. It is a family
living, Miss Morland; and the property in the place
being chiefly my own, you may believe I take care that it shall not be a bad
one. Did Henry's income depend solely on this living,
he would not be ill-provided for. Perhaps it may seem odd, that with only two
younger children, I should think any profession necessary for him; and
certainly there are moments when we could all wish him disengaged from every
tie of business. But though I may not exactly make converts of you young
ladies, I am sure your father, Miss Morland, would
agree with me in thinking it expedient to give every young man some employment.
The money is nothing, it is not an object, but employment is the thing. Even
Frederick, my eldest son, you see, who will perhaps inherit as considerable a
landed property as any private man in the county, has his profession."
The imposing effect of this last argument was equal to his wishes. The
silence of the lady proved it to be unanswerable.
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