or the cloisters of the other, had been for many weeks
a
darling wish, though to be more than the
visitorof an hour had seemed too nearly impossible for desire.
And yet, this was to happen. With all the chances against
her of house, hall, place, park, court, and cottage,
Northanger turned up an abbey, and she was to be its inhabitant.
Its long, damp passages, its narrow cells and ruined chapel,
were to be within her daily reach, and she could not
entirely
subdue the hope of some
traditional legends,
some awful memorials of an injured and ill-fated nun.
It was wonderful that her friends should seem
so little elated by the possession of such a home,
that the
consciousness of it should be so
meekly borne.
The power of early habit only could
account for it.
A
distinction to which they had been born gave no pride.
Their
superiority of abode was no more to them than their
superiority of person.
Many were the inquiries she was eager to make
of Miss Tilney; but so active were her thoughts,
that when these inquiries were answered, she was hardly
more
assured than before, of Northanger Abbey having been
a
richly endowed
convent at the time of the Reformation,
of its having fallen into the hands of an
ancestor of the
Tilneys on its
dissolution, of a large
portion of the ancient
building still making a part of the present
dwelling although
the rest was decayed, or of its
standing low in a valley,
sheltered from the north and east by rising woods of oak.
CHAPTER 18
With a mind thus full of happiness, Catherine was hardly
aware that two or three days had passed away, without her
seeing Isabella for more than a few minutes together.
She began first to be
sensible of this, and to sigh
for her conversation, as she walked along the pump-room
one morning, by Mrs. Allen's side, without anything to say
or to hear; and scarcely had she felt a five minutes'
longing of friendship, before the object of it appeared,
and
inviting her to a secret
conference, led the way
to a seat. "This is my favourite place," said she as they
sat down on a bench between the doors, which commanded
a tolerable view of everybody entering at either;
"it is so out of the way."
Catherine, observing that Isabella's eyes were
continually bent towards one door or the other, as in
eager
expectation, and remembering how often she had been
falsely accused of being arch, thought the present a fine
opportunity for being really so; and
therefore gaily said,
"Do not be
uneasy, Isabella, James will soon be here."
"Psha! My dear creature," she replied, "do not think
me such a simpleton as to be always
wanting to
confine him
to my elbow. It would be
hideous to be always together;
we should be the jest of the place. And so you are
going to Northanger! I am
amazingly glad of it. It is
one of the finest old places in England, I understand.
I shall depend upon a most particular
description of it."
"You shall certainly have the best in my power to give.
But who are you looking for? Are your sisters coming?"
"I am not looking for anybody. One's eyes must
be somewhere, and you know what a foolish trick I have of
fixing mine, when my thoughts are an hundred miles off.
I am
amazinglyabsent; I believe I am the most
absentcreature in the world. Tilney says it is always the case
with minds of a certain stamp."
"But I thought, Isabella, you had something
in particular to tell me?"
"Oh! Yes, and so I have. But here is a proof of
what I was
saying. My poor head, I had quite forgot it.
Well, the thing is this: I have just had a letter from John;
you can guess the contents."
"No, indeed, I cannot."
"My sweet love, do not be so abominably affected.
What can he write about, but yourself? You know he is over
head and ears in love with you."