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or the cloisters of the other, had been for many weeks



a darling wish, though to be more than the visitor

of 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 absent

creature 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."




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