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.
Something had been said the evening before of her
being shown over the house, and he now offered himself
as her
conductor; and though Catherine had hoped to explore
it accompanied only by his daughter, it was a proposal
of too much happiness in itself, under any circumstances,
not to be
gladly accepted; for she had been already
eighteen hours in the abbey, and had seen only a few of
its rooms. The netting-box, just
leisurely drawn forth,
was closed with
joyful haste, and she was ready to
attend him in a moment. "And when they had gone over
the house, he promised himself
moreover the pleasure
of accompanying her into the shrubberies and garden."
She curtsied her acquiescence. "But perhaps it might be
more
agreeable to her to make those her first object.
The weather was at present favourable, and at this time
of year the
uncertainty was very great of its continuing so.
Which would she prefer? He was
equally at her service.
Which did his daughter think would most
accord with her
fair friend's wishes? But he thought he could discern.
Yes, he certainly read in Miss Morland's eyes a judicious
desire of making use of the present smiling weather.
But when did she judge amiss? The abbey would be always
safe and dry. He yielded implicitly, and would fetch
his hat and attend them in a moment." He left the room,
and Catherine, with a disap
pointed,
anxious face,
began to speak of her unwillingness that he should be
taking them out of doors against his own inclination,
under a
mistaken idea of
pleasing her; but she was stopped
by Miss Tilney's
saying, with a little
confusion, "I believe
it will be wisest to take the morning while it is so fine;
and do not be
uneasy on my father's
account; he always walks
out at this time of day."
Catherine did not exactly know how this was
to be understood. Why was Miss Tilney embarrassed?
Could there be any unwillingness on the general's side
to show her over the abbey? The proposal was his own.
And was not it odd that he should always take his walk
so early? Neither her father nor Mr. Allen did so.
It was certainly very provoking. She was all impatience
to see the house, and had scarcely any
curiosity about
the grounds. If Henry had been with them indeed! But now
she should not know what was
picturesque when she saw it.
Such were her thoughts, but she kept them to herself,
and put on her
bonnet in patient discontent.
She was struck, however, beyond her
expectation,
by the
grandeur of the abbey, as she saw it for the first time
from the lawn. The whole building enclosed a large court;
and two sides of the quadrangle, rich in Gothic ornaments,
stood forward for
admiration. The
remainder was shut
off by knolls of old trees, or
luxuriant plantations,
and the steep woody hills rising behind, to give it shelter,
were beautiful even in the leafless month of March.
Catherine had seen nothing to compare with it; and her
feelings of delight were so strong, that without waiting
for any better authority, she
boldly burst forth in wonder
and praise. The general listened with assenting gratitude;
and it seemed as if his own
estimation of Northanger had
waited unfixed till that hour.
The kitchen-garden was to be next admired, and he
led the way to it across a small
portion of the park.
The number of acres contained in this garden was