Catherine's blood ran cold with the horrid suggestions which naturally sprang from these words.Could it be possible? Could Henry's father? And yet how many were the examples to justify even the blackest suspicions! And,when she saw him in the evening,while she worked with her friend,slowly pacing the drawing room for an hour together in silent thoughtfulness,with downcast eyes and contracted brow,she felt secure from all possibility of wronging him.It was the air and attitude of a Montoni! What could more plainly speak the gloomy workings of a mind not wholly dead to every sense of humanity,in its fearful review of past scenes of guilt?Unhappy man! And the anxiousness of her spirits directed 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 timed exercise was of a piece with the strange unseasonableness of his morning walks,and boded nothing good.
After an evening,the little variety and seeming length of which made her peculiarly sensible of Henry's importance among them,she was heartily glad to be dismissed;though it was a look from the General not designed for her 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 over the affairs of the nation for hours after you are asleep.Can either of us be more meetly employed?My eyes will be blinding for the good of others;and yours preparing by rest for future mischief.’
But neither the business alleged,not the magnificent compliment,could win Catherine from thinking,that some very different object must occasion so serious a delay of proper repose.To be kept up for hours,after the family were in bed,by stupid pamphlets,was not very likely.There must be some deeper cause:something was to be done which could be done only while the household slept;and the probability that Mrs Tilney yet lived,shut up for causes unknown,and receiving from the pitiless hands 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 than a death unfairly hastened,as,in the natural course of things,she must ere long be released.The suddenness of her reputed illness;the absence of her daughter,and probably of her other children,at the time all favoured the supposition of her imprisonment. Its origin jealousy perhaps,or wanton cruelty was yet to be unravelled.
In revolving these matters,while she undressed,it suddenly struck her as not unlikely,that she might that morning have passed near the very spot of this unfortunate woman's confinement might have been within a few paces of the cell in which she languished out her days;for what part of the Abbey could be more fitted for the purpose than that which yet bore the traces of monastic division?In the high arched passage,paved with stone,which already she had trodden with peculiar awe,she well remembered the doors of which the General had given no account.To what might not those doors lead?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 staircase by the side of those apartments of which she had caught a transient glimpse,communicating by some secret means with those cells,might well have favoured the barbarous proceedings of her husband.Down that staircase she had perhaps been conveyed in a state of well prepared insensibility!
Catherine sometimes started at the boldness of her own surmises,and sometimes hoped or feared that she had gone too far;but they were supported by such appearances as made their dismissal impossible.
The side of the quadrangle,in which she supposed the guilty scene to be acting,being,according to her belief,just opposite her own,it struck her that,if judiciously watched,some rays of light from the General's lamp might glimmer through the lower windows,as he passed to the prison of his wife;and,twice before she stepped into bed,she stole gently from her room to the corresponding 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 the servants must still be up.Till midnight,she supposed it would be in vain to watch;but then,when the clock had struck twelve,and all was quiet,she would,if not quite appalled by darkness,steal out and look once more.The clock struck twelve and Catherine had been half an hour asleep.
Chapter 24
The next day afforded no opportunity for the proposed examination of the mysterious apartments.It was Sunday,and the whole time between morning and afternoon service was required by the General in exercise abroad or eating cold meat at home;and great as was Catherine's curiosity,her courage was not equal to a wish of exploring them after dinner,either by the fading light of the sky between six and seven o'clock,or by the yet more partial though stronger illumination of a treacherous lamp.The day was unmarked therefore by anything to interest her imagination beyond the sight of a very elegant monument to the memory of Mrs Tilney,which immediately fronted the family pew.By that her eye was instantly caught and long retained;and the perusal of the highly strained epitaph,in which every virtue was ascribed to her by the inconsolable husband,who must have been in some way or other her destroyer,affected her even to tears.