er could not but perceive them now to be
greatly increased. She could neither sit still nor employ herself for
ten minutes together, walking round the garden and orchard again and
again, as if nothing but motion was voluntary; and it seemed as if she
could even walk about the house rather than remain fixed for any time
in the parlour. Her loss of spirits was a yet greater alteration. In her
rambling and her idleness she might only be a caricature of herself; but
in her silence and sadness she was the very reverse of all that she had
been before.

For two days Mrs. Morland allowed it to pass even without a hint;
but when a third night's rest had neither restored her cheerfulness,
improved her in useful activity, nor given her a greater inclination for
needlework, she could no longer refrain from the gentle reproof of, "My
dear Catherine, I am afraid you are growing quite a fine lady. I do not
know when poor Richard's cravats would be done, if he had no friend
but you. Your head runs too much upon Bath; but there is a time for
everything--a time for balls and plays, and a time for work. You have
had a long run of amusement, and now you must try to be useful."

Catherine took up her work directly, saying, in a dejected voice, that
"her head did not run upon Bath--much."

"Then you are fretting about General Tilney, and that is very simple
of you; for ten to one whether you ever see him again. You should never
fret about trifles." After a short silence--"I hope, my Catherine, you
are not getting out of humour with home because it is not so grand
as Northanger. That would be turning your visit into an evil indeed.
Wherever you are you should always be contented, but especially at home,
because there you must spend the most of your time. I did not quite
like, at breakfast, to hear you talk so much about the French bread at
Northanger."

"I am sure I do not care about the bread. It is all the same to me what
I eat."

"There is a very clever essay in one of the books upstairs upon much
such a subject, about young girls that have been spoilt for home by
great acquaintance--The Mirror, I think. I will look it out for you some
day or other, because I am sure it will do you good."

Catherine said no more, and, with an endeavour to do right, applied
to her work; but, after a few minutes, sunk again, without knowing it
herself, into languor and listlessness, moving herself in her chair,
from the irritation of weariness, much o