Northanger Abbey and Angels and Dragons by Jane Austen, Vera Nazarian Read Free Book Online Page A

crowd.
    These powers received due admiration from Catherine, to whom they were entirely new. And the respect which they naturally inspired might have been too great for familiarity, had not the easy gaiety of Miss Thorpe’s manners, and her frequent expressions of delight on their acquaintance, softened down every feeling of awe, and left nothing but tender affection.
    And an arm chilled to the bone . . .
    Their increasing attachment was not to be satisfied with half a dozen turns in the pump-room, but required, when they all quitted it together, that Miss Thorpe should accompany Miss Morland to the very door of Mr. Allen’s house; and that they should there part with a most affectionate and lengthened shake of hands, after learning, to their mutual relief, that they should see each other across the theatre at night, and say their prayers in the same chapel the next morning.
    Catherine then ran directly upstairs, and watched Miss Thorpe’s progress down the street from the drawing-room window; admired the graceful spirit of her walk, the fashionable air of her figure and dress; and felt grateful for the chance which had procured her such a friend.
    It was only then that she felt the pulls and tugs on her lace and once more heard the chorus of angelic voices that bloomed into focus once more. Indeed they were teeming in an agitated cloud all about her.
    “Dear child!” Terence was crying—or possibly Lawrence—“Oh, what a terrifying sorrow has come upon us!”
    “Sorrow? Gracious, what is it?” said Catherine, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt for having genuinely forgotten all about her faithful companions for most of the afternoon.
    “Why, it is witnessing you unable to hear us, and not paying any attention, as if you could no longer see us all around you!”
    Catherine thought back for a moment. It was true, she did not recall any angels at all for the duration of her delightful new acquaintance. Possibly, they had been there as usual, but she simply did not recall .
    “How odd!” admitted Catherine out loud. “I do not remember observing you, Terence—”
    “Dear child, it is I, Clarence.”
    Catherine coughed.
    “I wonder what happened?” she continued. “I must have been so engrossed with the sweet Miss Thorpe—”
    “Sweet? Oh, no, you are sorely mistaken, dear Catherine! This Miss Thorpe, as you call her—she is not what she seems!”
    “Oh?” Catherine grew more puzzled by the moment. “Whatever is she, then?”
    “She is dangerous!”
    “She is dark!”
    “She is filled with deceit! Corruption!”
    “She is wicked—”
    “Oh, stop it! ” Catherine exclaimed, unable to bear it any longer. “Please stop saying these terrible things! Miss Thorpe is amiable and charming, and she is now my friend!”
    At that, the angels settled all around her in unhappy silence.
     
    M rs. Thorpe was a widow, and not a very rich one. She was a good-humoured, well-meaning woman, and a very indulgent mother. There was entirely nothing metaphysically out of the ordinary about her. But the same could not be said about her two eldest children.
    Dear Reader, it must now be told—in her time, Mrs. Thorpe had unluckily given birth to two nephilim .
    During her first lying in, a dark being—some might call him a demon of the highest ranks, or possibly a fallen angel—flew over their residence, sensed the quickening of new life and, on a whim, decided to pay an unwelcome visit. That first time he merely touched the sleeping mother’s brow with his fiery breath, and slipped away. The resulting naphil child was a son, and scalding hellfires burned inside him.
    The second time the dark being chose to return, a year later, on an equally wicked whim, he breathed an icy breath of the tomb over the mother-to-be, before disappearing. This time the resulting naphil issue was a daughter, with the coldest heart of hell instilled within her.
    Poor Mrs. Thorpe! She had no idea. She bore both unknowingly, and all her other