Of course he could not
know what she knew, how the purest love and truth were seated in the
young man's eyes; but Heaven, in its time, might appoint a way of
bringing him to such knowledge. Catherine expected a good deal of
Heaven, and referred to the skies the initiative, as the French say,
in dealing with her dilemma. She could not imagine herself imparting
any kind of knowledge to her father, there was something superior
even in his injustice and absolute in his mistakes. But she could at
least be good, and if she were only good enough, Heaven would invent
some way of reconciling all things--the dignity of her father's
errors and the sweetness of her own confidence, the strict
performance of her filial duties and the enjoyment of Morris
Townsend's affection. Poor Catherine would have been glad to regard
Mrs. Penniman as an illuminating agent, a part which this lady
herself indeed was but imperfectly prepared to play. Mrs. Penniman
took too much satisfaction in the sentimental shadows of this little
drama to have, for the moment, any great interest in dissipating
them. She wished the plot to thicken, and the advice that she gave
her niece tended, in her own imagination, to produce this result. It
was rather incoherent counsel, and from one day to another it
contradicted itself; but it was pervaded by an earnest desire that
Catherine should do something striking.
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