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Quote by Jane Austen

“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 every thing 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.”

Quote by Jane Austen

Work

Northanger abbey

Northanger Abbey follows Catherine Morland, a naive and bookish young woman who is invited to stay with the wealthy Tilney family at their ancient home, Northanger Abbey. Influenced by the Gothic novels she loves, Catherine begins to imagine that the abbey harbors dark secrets, including a possible murder. As she becomes entangled in social relationships and romantic misunderstandings, she must learn to distinguish between fiction and reality. The novel gently satirizes the conventions of Gothic fiction while exploring themes of social class, imagination, and personal growth. more

Author

Jane Austen
Jane Austen

Jane Austen, born on December 16, 1775, and died on July 18, 1817, was a renowned English novelist of the 19th century. Known for her exquisite psychological portrayals and satirical humor, Austen's works mainly revolve around rural life in England, depicting the customs and interpersonal relationships of the time. Her representative works include 'Pride and Prejudice' and 'Sense and Sensibility'. more

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“Catherine was too wretched to be fearful. The journey in itself had no terrors for her; and she began it without either dreading its length or feeling its solitariness. Leaning back in one comer of the carriage, in a violent burst of tears, she was conveyed some miles beyond the walls of the abbey before she raised her head; and the highest point of ground within the park was almost closed from her view before she was capable of turning her eyes towards it. Unfortunately, the road she now travelled was the same which only ten days ago she had so happily passed along in going to and from Woodston; and, for fourteen miles, every bitter feeling was rendered more severe by the review of objects on which she had first looked under impressions so different. Every mile, as it brought her nearer Woodston, added to her sufferings, and when within the distance of five, she passed the turning which led to it, and thought of Henry, so near, yet so unconscious, her grief and agitation were excessive. The day which she had spent at that place had been one of the happiest of her life.”

“You didn’t slay a werewolf,” I breathed before repeating the words louder. “You did not slay a werewolf, Thaddeus.” “Oh, but I did. I took a band of huntsman with me and we tracked one down. A smaller one, mind you, not far from the front gate—” “You did not!” I contended more strongly. Why would one wolf have separated from the pack? Why outside our walls? “Yes, Catherine, I did,” he insisted. I shook my head disbelieving. “You’re not capable—” “I am so.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to protest, but to do so meant giving away my knowledge of the truth. Without knowing what else to do or say I changed the subject. “The fire’s gone out.” Thaddeus turned his head to check. “You’re right. I’ll see to it.”