om which she had often suffered, a bilious fever--its
cause therefore constitutional. On the third day, in short, as soon as
she could be prevailed on, a physician attended her, a very respectable
man, and one in whom she had always placed great confidence. Upon his
opinion of her danger, two others were called in the next day, and
remained in almost constant attendance for four and twenty hours. On the
fifth day she died. During the progress of her disorder, Frederick and I
(we were both at home) saw her repeatedly; and from our own observation
can bear witness to her having received every possible attention
which could spring from the affection of those about her, or which her
situation in life could command. Poor Eleanor was absent, and at such a
distance as to return only to see her mother in her coffin."

"But your father," said Catherine, "was he afflicted?"

"For a time, greatly so. You have erred in supposing him not attached
to her. He loved her, I am persuaded, as well as it was possible for him
to--we have not all, you know, the same tenderness of disposition--and
I will not pretend to say that while she lived, she might not often have
had much to bear, but though his temper injured her, his judgment never
did. His value of her was sincere; and, if not permanently, he was truly
afflicted by her death."

"I am very glad of it," said Catherine; "it would have been very
shocking!"

"If I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as
I have hardly words to--Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature
of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from?
Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are
English, that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your
own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing
around you. Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our
laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in
a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a
footing, where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary
spies, and where roads and newspapers lay everything open? Dearest Miss
Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?"

They had reached the end of the gallery, and with tears of shame she ran
off to her own room.

CHAPTER 25

The visions of romance were over. Catherine was completely awakened.
Henry's address, short as i