his attentions, he had previously
excited; and what had been terror and dislike before, was now absolute
aversion. Yes, aversion! His cruelty to such a charming woman made him
odious to her. She had often read of such characters, characters which
Mr. Allen had been used to call unnatural and overdrawn; but here was
proof positive of the contrary.

She had just settled this point when the end of the path brought them
directly upon the general; and in spite of all her virtuous indignation,
she found herself again obliged to walk with him, listen to him, and
even to smile when he smiled. Being no longer able, however, to receive
pleasure from the surrounding objects, she soon began to walk with
lassitude; the general perceived it, and with a concern for her health,
which seemed to reproach her for her opinion of him, was most urgent
for returning with his daughter to the house. He would follow them in
a quarter of an hour. Again they parted--but Eleanor was called back in
half a minute to receive a strict charge against taking her friend round
the abbey till his return. This second instance of his anxiety to delay
what she so much wished for struck Catherine as very remarkable.

CHAPTER 23

An hour passed away before the general came in, spent, on the part of
his young guest, in no very favourable consideration of his character.
"This lengthened absence, these solitary rambles, did not speak a mind
at ease, or a conscience void of reproach." At length he appeared; and,
whatever might have been the gloom of his meditations, he could still
smile with them. Miss Tilney, understanding in part her friend's
curiosity to see the house, soon revived the subject; and her father
being, contrary to Catherine's expectations, unprovided with any
pretence for further delay, beyond that of stopping five minutes to
order refreshments to be in the room by their return, was at last ready
to escort them.

They set forward; and, with a grandeur of air, a dignified step,
which caught the eye, but could not shake the doubts of the well-read
Catherine, he led the way across the hall, through the common
drawing-room and one useless antechamber, into a room magnificent both
in size and furniture--the real drawing-room, used only with company of
consequence. It was very noble--very grand--very charming!--was all that
Catherine had to say, for her indiscriminating eye scarcely discerned
the colour of the satin; and all minuteness of pra