Her greedy eye glanced rapidly over a page.She started at its import.Could it be possible，or did not her senses play her false？ An inventory of linen，in coarse and modern characters，seemed all that was before her！If the evidence of sight might be trusted，she held a washing bill in her hand.She seized another sheet，and saw the same articles with little variation；a third，a fourth，and a fifth presented nothing new.Shirts，stockings，cravats and waistcoats faced her in each.Two others，penned by the same hand，marked an expenditure scarcely more interesting，in letters，hair powder，shoe string and breeches ball.And the larger sheet，which had enclosed the rest，seemed by its first cramp line，‘To poultice chesnut mare，’ a farrier's bill！Such was the collection of papers (left perhaps，as she could then suppose，by the negligence of a servant in the place whence she had taken them)which had filled her with expectation and alarm，and robbed her of half her night's rest！She felt humbled to the dust.Could not the adventure of the chest have taught her wisdom？A corner of it catching her eye as she lay，seemed to rise up in judgment against her.Nothing could now be clearer than the absurdity of her recent fancies.To suppose that a manu of many generations back could have remained undiscovered in a room such as that，so modern，so habitable！ or that she should be the first to possess the skill of unlocking a cabinet，the key of which was open to all！
How could she have so imposed on herself？ Heaven forbid that Henry Tilney should ever know her folly！And it was in a great measure his own doing，for had not the cabinet appeared so exactly to agree with his deion of her adventures，she should never have felt the smallest curiosity about it.This was the only comfort that occurred.Impatient to get rid of those hateful evidences of her folly，those detestable papers then scattered over the bed，she rose directly，and folding them up as nearly as possible in the same shape as before，returned them to the same spot within the cabinet，with a very hearty wish that no untoward accident might ever bring them forward again，to disgrace her even with herself.
Why the locks should have been so difficult to open however，was still something remarkable，for she could now manage them with perfect ease.In this there was surely something mysterious，and she indulged in the flattering suggestion for half a minute，till the possibility of the door's having been at first unlocked，and of being herself its fastener，darted into her head，and cost her another blush.
She got away as soon as she could from a room in which her conduct produced such unpleasant reflections，and found her way with all speed to the breakfast parlour，as it had been pointed out to her by Miss Tilney the evening before.Henry was alone in it；and his immediate hope of her having been undisturbed by the tempest，with an arch reference to the character of the building they inhabited，was rather distressing.For the world would she not have her weakness suspected；and yet，unequal to an absolute falsehood，was constrained to acknowledge that the wind had kept her awake a little.‘But we have a charming morning after it，’she added，desiring to get rid of the subject；‘and storms and sleeplessness are nothing when they are over.What beautiful hyacinths！ I have just learnt to love a hyacinth.’
‘And how might you learn？ By accident or argument？’
‘Your sister taught me；I cannot tell how.Mrs Allen used to take pains，year after year，to make me like them；but I never could，till I saw them the other day in Milsom Street；I am naturally indifferent about flowers.’
‘But now you love a hyacinth.So much the better.You have gained a new source of enjoyment，and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible.Besides，a taste for flowers is always desirable in your sex，as a means of getting you out of doors，and tempting you to more frequent exercise than you would otherwise take.And though the love of a hyacinth may be rather domestic，who can tell，the sentiment once raised，but you may in time come to love a rose？’
‘But I do not want any such pursuit to get me out of doors.The pleasure of walking and breathing fresh air is enough for me，and in fine weather I am out more than half my time. Mamma says，I am never within.’
‘At any rate，however，I am pleased that you have learnt to love a hyacinth.The mere habit of learning to love is the thing；and a teachableness of disposition in a young lady is a great blessing. Has my sister a pleasant mode of instruction？’
Catherine was saved the embarrassment of attempting an answer，by the entrance of the General，whose smiling compliments announced a happy state of mind，but whose gentle hint of sympathetic early rising did not advance her composure.
The elegance of the breakfast set forced itself on Catherine's notice when they were seated at table；and，luckily，it had been the General's choice.He was enchanted by her approbation of his taste，confessed it to be neat and simple，thought it right to encourage the manufacture of his country；and for his part，to his uncritical palate，the tea was as well flavoured from the clay of Staffordshire，as from that of Dresden or Sêve.But this was quite an old set，purchased two years ago.The manufacture was much improved since that time；he had seen some beautiful specimens when last in town，and had he not been perfectly without vanity of that kind，might have been tempted to order a new set.He trusted，however，that an opportunity might ere long occur of selecting one though not for himself.Catherine was probably the only one of the party who did not understand him.
