But I shall certainly never again take any step on
your behalf; you are much too thankless. I knew you were not a
spontaneous nature, but I believed you were firm, and I told your
father that he would find you so. I am disappointed--but your father
will not be!" And with this, Mrs. Penniman offered her niece a brief
good-night, and withdrew to her own apartment.
CHAPTER XVIII
Catherine sat alone by the parlour fire--sat there for more than an
hour, lost in her meditations. Her aunt seemed to her aggressive and
foolish, and to see it so clearly--to judge Mrs. Penniman so
positively--made her feel old and grave. She did not resent the
imputation of weakness; it made no impression on her, for she had not
the sense of weakness, and she was not hurt at not being appreciated.
She had an immense respect for her father, and she felt that to
displease him would be a misdemeanour analogous to an act of
profanity in a great temple; but her purpose had slowly ripened, and
she believed that her prayers had purified it of its violence. The
evening advanced, and the lamp burned dim without her noticing it;
her eyes were fixed upon her terrible plan. She knew her father was
in his study--that he had been there all the evening; from time to
time she expected to hear him move. She thought he would perhaps
come, as he sometimes came, into the parlour. At last the clock
struck eleven, and the house was wrapped in silence; the servants had
gone to bed.
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