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 manuscript 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 description 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. (22.2)

This dizzy little episode takes place the morning after Catherine discovers what she thinks is a centuries-old manuscript in the Gothic mansion she's staying in. She couldn't read it the night before, but in the morning light, she sees that the stack of papers constitutes a lackluster list of household to-dos. Womp, womp. She's pretty embarrassed that she let her imagination run away from herself, but when you're spending the night in a revamped abbey, who can blame you?

Imagination run amok—that's what's going on here. Good thing, too, because so-so parodies use the basic elements of their sources like decoration, but great parodies work to manipulate themes and larger ideas. Luckily, Jane Austen is pretty skilled, and has given us a text that turns Gothic values on their heads. Catherine's imagination, instead of revealing greater truth through the emotional heights to which it raises her, goes a little off course. Here she happens to catch herself in a rare moment of self-awareness.

Notice how we have access to Catherine's thoughts, feelings, assumptions, and embarrassment without her having to tell us…or as if we're reading her journal? Well, that's because of a pretty cool technique called free indirect discourse. It gives us a kind of fly-on-the-wall perspective, but from inside characters' brains. It gets associated with the modernist movement in the early 20th century, but it got a lot of play early got with heavy-hitters like Austen.