Heavily passed the night.  Sleep, or repose that deserved the name of sleep, was out of the question.  That room, in which her disturbed imagination had tormented her on her first arrival, was again the scene of agitated spirits and unquiet slumbers.  Yet how different now the source of her inquietude from what it had been then —­ how mournfully superior in reality and substance!  Her anxiety had foundation in fact, her fears in probability; and with a mind so occupied in the contemplation of actual and natural evil, the solitude of her situation, the darkness of her chamber, the antiquity of the building, were felt and considered without the smallest emotion; and though the wind was high, and often produced strange and sudden noises throughout the house, she heard it all as she lay awake, hour after hour, without curiosity or terror.

Soon after six Eleanor entered her room, eager to show attention or give assistance where it was possible; but very little remained to be done.  Catherine had not loitered; she was almost dressed, and her packing almost finished.  The possibility of some conciliatory message from the general occurred to her as his daughter appeared.  What so natural, as that anger should pass away and repentance succeed it?  And she only wanted to know how far, after what had passed, an apology might properly be received by her.  But the knowledge would have been useless here; it was not called for; neither clemency nor dignity was put to the trial —­ Eleanor brought no message.  Very little passed between them on meeting; each found her greatest safety in silence, and few and trivial were the sentences exchanged while they remained upstairs, Catherine in busy agitation completing her dress, and Eleanor with more goodwill than experience intent upon filling the trunk.  When everything was done they left the room, Catherine lingering only half a minute behind her friend to throw a parting glance on every well-known, cherished object, and went down to the breakfast-parlour, where breakfast was prepared.  She tried to eat, as well to save herself from the pain of being urged as to make her friend comfortable; but she had no appetite, and could not swallow many mouthfuls.  The contrast between this and her last breakfast in that room gave her fresh misery, and strengthened her distaste for everything before her.  It was not four and twenty hours ago since they had met there to the same repast, but in circumstances how different!  With what cheerful ease, what happy, though false, security, had she then looked around her, enjoying everything present, and fearing little in future, beyond Henry’s going to Woodston for a day!  Happy, happy breakfast!  For Henry had been there; Henry had sat by her and helped her.  These reflections were long indulged undisturbed by any address from her companion, who sat as deep in thought as herself; and the appearance of the carriage was the first thing to startle and recall them to the present moment.  Catherine’s colour rose at the sight of it; and the indignity with which she was treated, striking at that instant on her mind with peculiar force, made her for a short time sensible only of resentment.  Eleanor seemed now impelled into resolution and speech.