"But, Rose," pursued Caroline, "I fear a wanderer's life, for me at least, would end like that tale you are reading--in disappointment, vanity, and vexation of spirit."

"But, Rose," pursued Caroline, "I fear a wanderer's life, for me at least, would end like that tale you are reading - in disappointment and vexation of spirit."


"Better to try all things and find all empty than to try nothing and leave your life a blank.

"Better to try all things and find all empty, than to try nothing and leave your life a blank."


To do this is to commit the sin of him who buried his talent in a napkin--despicable sluggard!"


"Rose," observed Mrs. Yorke, "solid satisfaction is only to be realized by doing one's duty."


And if my Master has given me ten talents, my duty is to trade with them, and make them ten talents more.

And if my Master has given me ten talents, my duty is to trade with them, and make ten talents more.


Not in the dust of household drawers shall the coin be interred.

Not in the dust of household drawers shall the coin be buried.


I will _not_ deposit it in a broken-spouted teapot, and shut it up in a china closet among tea-things.

Not in a broken-spouted teapot, or in a china closet among tea-things.


I will _not_ commit it to your work-table to be smothered in piles of woollen hose.


I will _not_ prison it in the linen press to find shrouds among the sheets.

Not in the linen press among shrouds of sheets.


And least of all, mother" (she got up from the floor)--"least of all will I hide it in a tureen of cold potatoes, to be ranged with bread, butter, pastry, and ham on the shelves of the larder."

And least of all, mother" (she got up from the floor) - "least of all will I hide it in a tureen of cold potatoes in the larder.


She stopped, then went on, "Mother, the Lord who gave each of us our talents will come home some day, and will demand from all an account.

Mother, the Lord who gave each of us our talents will some day demand from all an account.


The teapot, the old stocking-foot, the linen rag, the willow-pattern tureen will yield up their barren deposit in many a house.

The teapot, the old stocking-foot, the tureen will yield up their barren deposit in many a house.


Suffer your daughters, at least, to put their money to the exchangers, that they may be enabled at the Master's coming to pay Him His own with usury."

Let your daughters, at least, increase their talents, so that they may pay the Master's His own with interest."


"Rose, did you bring your sampler with you, as I told you?"

"Rose, did you bring your sampler, as I told you?"


Rose sat down promptly, and wrought according to orders.

Rose sat down promptly, and sewed as ordered.


After a busy pause of ten minutes, her mother asked, "Do you think yourself oppressed now--a victim?"

After ten minutes, her mother asked, "Do you think yourself oppressed now - a victim?"


"Yet, as far as I understood your tirade, it was a protest against all womanly and domestic employment."


You do right to teach me, and to make me work."
"Even to the mending of your brothers' stockings and the making of sheets?"
"Yes."

You do right to teach me, and to make me work and mend."


"Where is the use of ranting and spouting about it, then?"

"Where is the use of ranting about it, then?"


I will do that, and then I will do more.


I am twelve years old at present, and not till I am sixteen will I speak again about talents.

I am twelve years old, and not till I am sixteen will I speak again about talents.


For four years I bind myself an industrious apprentice to all you can teach me."


"You see what my daughters are, Miss Helstone," observed Mrs. Yorke; "how precociously wise in their own conceits!

"You see what my daughters are, Miss Helstone," observed Mrs. Yorke; "how precociously wise in their own idea!


'I would rather this, I prefer that'--such is Jessie's cuckoo song; while Rose utters the bolder cry, 'I _will_, and I will _not_!'"

'I would rather this, I prefer that' - such is Jessie's cuckoo song; while Rose utters the bolder cry, 'I will, and I will not!'"


"I render a reason, mother; besides, if my cry is bold, it is only heard once in a twelvemonth.

"I give a reason, mother; besides, my cry is only heard once a year."


About each birthday the spirit moves me to deliver one oracle respecting my own instruction and management.


I utter it and leave it; it is for you, mother, to listen or not."


"I would advise all young ladies," pursued Mrs. Yorke, "to study the characters of such children as they chance to meet with before they marry and have any of their own to consider well how they would like the responsibility of guiding the careless, the labour of persuading the stubborn, the constant burden and task of training the best."

"I would advise all young ladies," pursued Mrs. Yorke, "to study the characters of such children before they marry and have any of their own; to consider well how they would like the constant burden and task of training them."


"But with love it need not be so very difficult," interposed Caroline.

"But with love it need not be so very difficult," said Caroline.


"Mothers love their children most dearly--almost better than they love themselves."

"Mothers love their children almost better than they love themselves."


There is the rough, practical part of life yet to come for you, young miss."

The practical part of life is yet to come for you, young miss."


"But, Mrs. Yorke, if I take a little baby into my arms--any poor woman's infant, for instance--I feel that I love that helpless thing quite peculiarly, though I am not its mother.

"But, Mrs. Yorke, if I take any woman's baby into my arms, I feel that I love it, though I am not its mother.


I could do almost anything for it willingly, if it were delivered over entirely to my care--if it were quite dependent on me."

I could do almost anything for it willingly, if it were dependent on me."


You are led a great deal by your _feelings_, and you think yourself a very sensitive personage, no doubt.

You are led a great deal by your feelings, and you think yourself a very sensitive person, no doubt.


Are you aware that, with all these romantic ideas, you have managed to train your features into an habitually lackadaisical expression, better suited to a novel-heroine than to a woman who is to make her way in the real world by dint of common sense?"

Are you aware that, with all these romantic ideas, you have managed to train your features into a lackadaisical expression, better suited to a novel-heroine than a woman who is to make her way in the real world by dint of common sense?"


"No; I am not at all aware of that, Mrs. Yorke."

"No; I am not aware of that, Mrs. Yorke."


Compare the face you see there with that of any early-rising, hard-working milkmaid."

Compare the face you see there with that of any hard-working milkmaid."


"My face is a pale one, but it is _not_ sentimental; and most milkmaids, however red and robust they may be, are more stupid and less practically fitted to make their way in the world than I am.

"My face is pale, but it is not sentimental; and most milkmaids, however red and robust they may be, are more stupid and less practically fitted to make their way in the world than I am.


I think more, and more correctly, than milkmaids in general do; consequently, where they would often, for want of reflection, act weakly, I, by dint of reflection, should act judiciously."

I think more, and more correctly, than milkmaids in general do. Where they would often act weakly, I should act judiciously."


you would be influenced by your feelings; you would be guided by impulse."

you would be influenced by your feelings."


"Of course I should often be influenced by my feelings.


Whom my feelings teach me to love I _must_ and _shall_ love; and I hope, if ever I have a husband and children, my feelings will induce me to love them.

I hope, if ever I have a husband and children, my feelings will induce me to love them."


I hope, in that case, all my impulses will be strong in compelling me to love."


Caroline had a pleasure in saying this with emphasis; she had a pleasure in daring to say it in Mrs. Yorke's presence.

Caroline had a pleasure in saying this to Mrs. Yorke.


She did not care what unjust sarcasm might be hurled at her in reply.


She flushed, not with anger but excitement, when the ungenial matron answered coolly, "Don't waste your dramatic effects. That was well said--it was quite fine; but it is lost on two women--an old wife and an old maid.

She flushed, not with anger but excitement, when the matron answered coolly, "That was well said - it was quite fine; but it is lost on an old wife and an old maid.


There should have been a disengaged gentleman present.--Is Mr. Robert nowhere hid behind the curtains, do you think, Miss Moore?"

There should have been a gentleman present. - Is Mr. Robert nowhere hid behind the curtains, do you think, Miss Moore?"


Hortense, who during the chief part of the conversation had been in the kitchen superintending the preparations for tea, did not yet quite comprehend the drift of the discourse.

Hortense, who during much of the conversation had been in the kitchen superintending the preparations for tea, did not understand.


She answered, with a puzzled air, that Robert was at Whinbury.


Mrs. Yorke laughed her own peculiar short laugh.


"It is like you to understand my question so literally and answer it so simply.

"It is like you to understand my question so literally.


_Your_ mind comprehends nothing of intrigue.


Strange things might go on around you without your being the wiser; you are not of the class the world calls sharp-witted."

You are not of the class the world calls sharp-witted."


These equivocal compliments did not seem to please Hortense. She drew herself up, puckered her black eyebrows, but still looked puzzled.

At this, Hortense drew herself up and puckered her black eyebrows, but still looked puzzled.


"I have ever been noted for sagacity and discernment from childhood," she returned; for, indeed, on the possession of these qualities she peculiarly piqued herself.

"I have been noted for sagacity and discernment from childhood," she returned.


"You never plotted to win a husband, I'll be bound," pursued Mrs. Yorke; "and you have not the benefit of previous experience to aid you in discovering when others plot."

"You never plotted to win a husband, I'll be bound," pursued Mrs. Yorke; "and you have no experience to aid you in discovering when others plot."


Caroline felt this kind language where the benevolent speaker intended she should feel it--in her very heart.

Caroline felt this language where the speaker intended she should feel it - in her very heart.


She could not even parry the shafts; she was defenceless for the present. To answer would have been to avow that the cap fitted.

She could not even parry the shafts; to answer would have been to avow that the cap fitted.


Mrs. Yorke, looking at her as she sat with troubled, downcast eyes, and cheek burning painfully, and figure expressing in its bent attitude and unconscious tremor all the humiliation and chagrin she experienced, felt the sufferer was fair game.

Mrs. Yorke, looking at her as she sat with troubled, downcast eyes, and cheek burning painfully, felt the sufferer was fair game.


The strange woman had a natural antipathy to a shrinking, sensitive character--a nervous temperament; nor was a pretty, delicate, and youthful face a passport to her affections.

The woman had a natural antipathy to a shrinking, sensitive character; nor was a pretty face a passport to her affections.


It was seldom she met with all these obnoxious qualities combined in one individual; still more seldom she found that individual at her mercy, under circumstances in which she could crush her well.


She happened this afternoon to be specially bilious and morose--as much disposed to gore as any vicious "mother of the herd."


Lowering her large head she made a new charge.


"Your cousin Hortense is an excellent sister, Miss Helstone.


Such ladies as come to try their life's luck here at Hollow's Cottage may, by a very little clever female artifice, cajole the mistress of the house, and have the game all in their own hands.

Such ladies as come to try their life's luck here at Hollow's Cottage may, by a little clever artifice, cajole the mistress of the house, and have the game all in their own hands.


You are fond of your cousin's society, I dare say, miss?"


"Hortense is, and always has been, most kind to me."


"Every sister with an eligible single brother is considered most kind by her spinster friends."


"Mrs. Yorke," said Caroline, lifting her eyes slowly, their blue orbs at the same time clearing from trouble, and shining steady and full, while the glow of shame left her cheek, and its hue turned pale and settled--"Mrs. Yorke, may I ask what you mean?"

"Mrs. Yorke," said Caroline, lifting her eyes slowly, while the glow of shame left her cheek, and its hue turned pale - "Mrs. Yorke, may I ask what you mean?"


"To give you a lesson on the cultivation of rectitude, to disgust you with craft and false sentiment."


"Most young ladies of the present day need it.


You are quite a modern young lady--morbid, delicate, professing to like retirement; which implies, I suppose, that you find little worthy of your sympathies in the ordinary world.

You are quite a modern young lady - morbid, delicate, professing to like retirement; which implies, I suppose, that you find little worthy of your sympathies in the ordinary world.


The ordinary world--every-day honest folks--are better than you think them, much better than any bookish, romancing chit of a girl can be who hardly ever puts her nose over her uncle the parson's garden wall."

The ordinary world - everyday honest folks - are much better than any bookish, romancing chit of a girl who hardly ever puts her nose over her uncle's garden wall."


Excuse me--indeed, it does not matter whether you excuse me or not--you have attacked me without provocation; I shall defend myself without apology.

Excuse me - indeed, it does not matter whether you excuse me or not - you have attacked me without provocation; I shall defend myself without apology.


Of my relations with my two cousins you are ignorant.


In a fit of ill-humour you have attempted to poison them by gratuitous insinuations, which are far more crafty and false than anything with which you can justly charge me.

In a fit of ill-humour you have attempted to poison them by insinuations which are far more crafty and false than anything with which you can justly charge me.


That I happen to be pale, and sometimes to look diffident, is no business of yours; that I am fond of books, and indisposed for common gossip, is still less your business; that I am a 'romancing chit of a girl' is a mere conjecture on your part.

That I happen to be pale, and sometimes to look diffident, is no business of yours; that I am fond of books, and dislike gossip, is still less your business; that I am a 'romancing chit of a girl' is a mere conjecture on your part.


I never romanced to you nor to anybody you know.


That I am the parson's niece is not a crime, though you may be narrow-minded enough to think it so.


You dislike me. You have no just reason for disliking me; therefore keep the expression of your aversion to yourself.

You dislike me, but for no just reason; therefore keep the expression of your dislike to yourself.


If at any time in future you evince it annoyingly, I shall answer even less scrupulously than I have done now."

Otherwise I shall answer even less scrupulously than I have done now."


She ceased, and sat in white and still excitement.


She had spoken in the clearest of tones, neither fast nor loud; but her silver accents thrilled the ear.

She had spoken clearly, neither fast nor loud; but her silver accents thrilled the ear.


The speed of the current in her veins was just then as swift as it was viewless.


Mrs. Yorke was not irritated at the reproof, worded with a severity so simple, dictated by a pride so quiet.

Mrs. Yorke was not irritated at the reproof.


Turning coolly to Miss Moore, she said, nodding her cap approvingly, "She has spirit in her, after all.--Always speak as honestly as you have done just now," she continued, "and you'll do."

Turning coolly to Miss Moore, she said, nodding approvingly, "She has spirit, after all. - Always speak as honestly as you have done just now," she continued, "and you'll do."


"I repel a recommendation so offensive," was the answer, delivered in the same pure key, with the same clear look.

"I repel a recommendation so offensive," was the answer, delivered with the same clear look.


"I reject counsel poisoned by insinuation.


It is my right to speak as I think proper; nothing binds me to converse as you dictate.

I shall speak as I think proper; not as you dictate.


So far from always speaking as I have done just now, I shall never address any one in a tone so stern or in language so harsh, unless in answer to unprovoked insult."

So far from always speaking as I have done just now, I shall never address anyone in a tone so stern or in language so harsh, unless in answer to unprovoked insult."


"Mother, you have found your match," pronounced little Jessie, whom the scene appeared greatly to edify.

"Mother, you have found your match," pronounced little Jessie.


Rose had heard the whole with an unmoved face.


She now said, "No; Miss Helstone is not my mother's match, for she allows herself to be vexed.


My mother would wear her out in a few weeks.


Shirley Keeldar manages better.--Mother, you have never hurt Miss Keeldar's feelings yet.

Shirley Keeldar manages better. Mother, you have never hurt Miss Keeldar's feelings yet.


She wears armour under her silk dress that you cannot penetrate."

She wears armour that you cannot penetrate."


Mrs. Yorke often complained that her children were mutinous.


It was strange that with all her strictness, with all her "strong-mindedness," she could gain no command over them.

It was strange that with all her strictness and "strong-mindedness," she could gain no command over them.


A look from their father had more influence with them than a lecture from her.

A look from their father had more influence than a lecture from her.


Miss Moore--to whom the position of witness to an altercation in which she took no part was highly displeasing, as being an unimportant secondary post--now rallying her dignity, prepared to utter a discourse which was to prove both parties in the wrong, and to make it clear to each disputant that she had reason to be ashamed of herself, and ought to submit humbly to the superior sense of the individual then addressing her.

Miss Moore, now rallying her dignity, prepared to utter a speech which was to prove both parties in the wrong, and to make it clear to each that she should be ashamed of herself, and ought to submit humbly to the superior sense of her hostess.


Fortunately for her audience, she had not harangued above ten minutes when Sarah's entrance with the tea-tray called her attention, first to the fact of that damsel having a gilt comb in her hair and a red necklace round her throat, and secondly, and subsequently to a pointed remonstrance, to the duty of making tea.

Fortunately Sarah's entrance with the tea-tray called her attention to the duty of making tea.


After the meal Rose restored her to good-humour by bringing her guitar and asking for a song, and afterwards engaging her in an intelligent and sharp cross-examination about guitar-playing and music in general.

After the meal Rose restored her to good-humour by bringing her guitar and asking for a song, and afterwards engaging her in an intelligent discussion about music.


Jessie, meantime, directed her assiduities to Caroline. Sitting on a stool at her feet, she talked to her, first about religion and then about politics.

Jessie, meantime, talked to Caroline, first about religion and then politics.


Jessie was accustomed at home to drink in a great deal of what her father said on these subjects, and afterwards in company to retail, with more wit and fluency than consistency or discretion, his opinions, antipathies, and preferences.

Jessie was accustomed at home to drink in a great deal of what her father said on these subjects, and afterwards in company to repeat his opinions.


She rated Caroline soundly for being a member of the Established Church, and for having an uncle a clergyman.

She berated Caroline soundly for being a member of the Established Church, and for having an uncle who was a clergyman.


She informed her that she lived on the country, and ought to work for her living honestly, instead of passing a useless life, and eating the bread of idleness in the shape of tithes.

She informed her that she ought to work for her living honestly, instead of passing a useless life, and eating the bread of idleness.


Thence Jessie passed to a review of the ministry at that time in office, and a consideration of its deserts. She made familiar mention of the names of Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Perceval. Each of these personages she adorned with a character that might have separately suited Moloch and Belial.

Thence Jessie passed to a review of the ministry, and mentioned Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Perceval as if they were demons.


She denounced the war as wholesale murder, and Lord Wellington as a "hired butcher."


Her auditress listened with exceeding edification.


Jessie had something of the genius of humour in her nature.


It was inexpressibly comic to hear her repeating her sire's denunciations in his nervous northern Doric; as hearty a little Jacobin as ever pent a free mutinous spirit in a muslin frock and sash.

It was comic to hear her repeating her sire's denunciations; as hearty a little mutineer as ever wore a muslin frock and sash.


Not malignant by nature, her language was not so bitter as it was racy, and the expressive little face gave a piquancy to every phrase which held a beholder's interest captive.

Her expressive little face gave a piquancy to every phrase.


Caroline chid her when she abused Lord Wellington; but she listened delighted to a subsequent tirade against the Prince Regent.


Jessie quickly read, in the sparkle of her hearer's eye and the laughter hovering round her lips, that at last she had hit on a topic that pleased.

Jessie quickly read, in the sparkle of her hearer's eye and the laughter hovering round her lips, that she had hit on a topic that pleased.


Many a time had she heard the fat "Adonis of fifty" discussed at her father's breakfast-table, and she now gave Mr. Yorke's comments on the theme--genuine as uttered by his Yorkshire lips.


But, Jessie, I will write about you no more.


This is an autumn evening, wet and wild. There is only one cloud in the sky, but it curtains it from pole to pole. The wind cannot rest; it hurries sobbing over hills of sullen outline, colourless with twilight and mist. Rain has beat all day on that church tower. It rises dark from the stony enclosure of its graveyard. The nettles, the long grass, and the tombs all drip with wet. This evening reminds me too forcibly of another evening some years ago--a howling, rainy autumn evening too--when certain who had that day performed a pilgrimage to a grave new-made in a heretic cemetery sat near a wood fire on the hearth of a foreign dwelling.

This autumn evening, wet and wild, reminds me too forcibly of another howling, rainy evening some years ago, when certain people made a pilgrimage to a new grave in a heretic cemetery.


They were merry and social, but they each knew that a gap, never to be filled, had been made in their circle.


They knew they had lost something whose absence could never be quite atoned for so long as they lived; and they knew that heavy falling rain was soaking into the wet earth which covered their lost darling, and that the sad, sighing gale was mourning above her buried head.

The heavy rain was soaking into the wet earth which covered their lost darling, and the sad, sighing gale was mourning.


The fire warmed them; life and friendship yet blessed them; but Jessie lay cold, coffined, solitary--only the sod screening her from the storm.

Jessie lay cold, coffined, solitary - only the earth screening her from the storm.


Mrs. Yorke folded up her knitting, cut short the music lesson and the lecture on politics, and concluded her visit to the cottage, at an hour early enough to ensure her return to Briarmains before the blush of sunset should quite have faded in heaven, or the path up the fields have become thoroughly moist with evening dew.

Mrs. Yorke folded up her knitting, cut short the lecture on politics, and concluded her visit before the path up the fields should have become thoroughly moist with evening dew.


The lady and her daughters being gone, Caroline felt that she also ought to resume her scarf, kiss her cousin's cheek, and trip away homeward.

The lady and her daughters being gone, Caroline felt that she also ought to go home.


If she lingered much later dusk would draw on, and Fanny would be put to the trouble of coming to fetch her.

If she lingered much later, dusk would draw on, and Fanny would be put to the trouble of coming to fetch her.


It was both baking and ironing day at the rectory, she remembered--Fanny would be busy.


Still, she could not quit her seat at the little parlour window.


From no point of view could the west look so lovely as from that lattice with the garland of jessamine round it, whose white stars and green leaves seemed now but gray pencil outlines--graceful in form, but colourless in tint--against the gold incarnadined of a summer evening--against the fire-tinged blue of an August sky at eight o'clock p.m.

Her eyes turned west towards the fire-tinged August sky.


Caroline looked at the wicket-gate, beside which holly-oaks spired up tall. She looked at the close hedge of privet and laurel fencing in the garden; her eyes longed to see something more than the shrubs before they turned from that limited prospect. They longed to see a human figure, of a certain mould and height, pass the hedge and enter the gate.

Caroline looked at the wicket-gate, and the hedge fencing in the garden, longing to see a human figure, of a certain shape and height, pass the hedge and enter the gate.


A human figure she at last saw--nay, two.

A human figure she at last saw - nay, two.


Frederick Murgatroyd went by, carrying a pail of water; Joe Scott followed, dangling on his forefinger the keys of the mill.

Frederick Murgatroyd went by, carrying a pail of water; Joe Scott followed, carrying the keys of the mill.


They were going to lock up mill and stables for the night, and then betake themselves home.

They were going to lock up for the night, and then go home.


"So must I," thought Caroline, as she half rose and sighed.


"This is all folly--heart-breaking folly," she added.


"In the first place, though I should stay till dark there will be no arrival; because I feel in my heart, Fate has written it down in to-day's page of her eternal book, that I am not to have the pleasure I long for.

In the first place, even if I should stay till dark there will be no arrival; I feel in my heart that I am not fated to have the pleasure I long for.


In the second place, if he stepped in this moment, my presence here would be a chagrin to him, and the consciousness that it must be so would turn half my blood to ice.

In the second place, if he stepped in at this moment, my presence here would annoy him, and that would turn my blood to ice.


His hand would, perhaps, be loose and chill if I put mine into it; his eye would be clouded if I sought its beam. I should look up for that kindling, something I have seen in past days, when my face, or my language, or my disposition had at some happy moment pleased him; I should discover only darkness.


She took her bonnet from the table where it lay, and was just fastening the ribbon, when Hortense, directing her attention to a splendid bouquet of flowers in a glass on the same table, mentioned that Miss Keeldar had sent them that morning from Fieldhead; and went on to comment on the guests that lady was at present entertaining, on the bustling life she had lately been leading; adding divers conjectures that she did not very well like it, and much wonderment that a person who was so fond of her own way as the heiress did not find some means of sooner getting rid of this _cortge_ of relatives.

She took up her bonnet, and was just fastening the ribbon, when Hortense, directing her attention to a splendid bouquet of flowers in a vase, mentioned that Miss Keeldar had sent them that morning from Fieldhead. She went on to comment on the guests that lady was at present entertaining, expressing her wonder that a person who was so fond of her own way did not find some means of getting rid of all these relatives.


"But they say she actually will not let Mr. Sympson and his family go," she added.


"They wanted much to return to the south last week, to be ready for the reception of the only son, who is expected home from a tour.

"They wanted to return south last week, to be ready to receive their only son, who is expected home from a tour.


She insists that her cousin Henry shall come and join his friends here in Yorkshire.


I dare say she partly does it to oblige Robert and myself."


Don't you know--you must often have heard----"

Don't you know - you must often have heard-"


"Please, ma'am," said Sarah, opening the door, "the preserves that you told me to boil in treacle--the congfiters, as you call them--is all burnt to the pan."

"Please, ma'am," said Sarah, opening the door, "the preserves that you told me to boil in treacle - the congfiters, as you call them - is all burnt to the pan."


Coquine de cuisinire, fille insupportable!"


And mademoiselle, hastily taking from a drawer a large linen apron, and tying it over her black apron, rushed _perdue_ into the kitchen, whence, to speak truth, exhaled an odour of calcined sweets rather strong than savoury.

And mademoiselle rushed into the kitchen, whence came a strong odour of charcoaled sweets.


The mistress and maid had been in full feud the whole day, on the subject of preserving certain black cherries, hard as marbles, sour as sloes.

The mistress and maid had been feuding the whole day on the subject of preserving sour black cherries.


Sarah held that sugar was the only orthodox condiment to be used in that process; mademoiselle maintained--and proved it by the practice and experience of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother--that treacle, "mlasse," was infinitely preferable.

Sarah held that sugar should be used; mademoiselle maintained that treacle was far better.


She had committed an imprudence in leaving Sarah in charge of the preserving-pan, for her want of sympathy in the nature of its contents had induced a degree of carelessness in watching their confection, whereof the result was--dark and cindery ruin.

She had imprudently left Sarah in charge of the preserving-pan; and the maid's lack of sympathy for its contents had induced a degree of carelessness, whose result was dark and cindery ruin.


Hubbub followed; high upbraiding, and sobs rather loud than deep or real.

Hubbub followed; high upbraiding, and sobs more loud than real.


Caroline, once more turning to the little mirror, was shading her ringlets from her cheek to smooth them under her cottage bonnet, certain that it would not only be useless but unpleasant to stay longer, when, on the sudden opening of the back-door, there fell an abrupt calm in the kitchen.

On the sudden opening of the back-door, there fell an abrupt calm in the kitchen.


The tongues were checked, pulled up as with bit and bridle.


He often--almost always--entered by the kitchen way on his return from market.


No; it was only Joe Scott, who, having hemmed significantly thrice--every hem being meant as a lofty rebuke to the squabbling womankind--said, "Now, I thowt I heerd a crack?"

No; it was only Joe Scott, who, having cleared his throat significantly. as a lofty rebuke to the squabbling womankind, said, "Now, I thowt I heerd a crack?


"And," he continued pragmatically, "as t' maister's comed, and as he'll enter through this hoyle, I _con_sidered it desirable to step in and let ye know.

As t' maister's comed, I considered it desirable to let ye know.


A household o' women is nivver fit to be comed on wi'out warning.


They war playing up queerly, but I think I've quietened 'em."

They war playing up, but I think I've quietened 'em."


Another person, it was now audible, entered.


"What d'ye mean by being all i' darkness?


Sarah, thou quean, canst t' not light a candle?


He'll brak his shins agean some o' yer pots, and tables, and stuff.--Tak tent o' this baking-bowl, sir; they've set it i' yer way, fair as if they did it i' malice."


To Joe's observations succeeded a confused sort of pause, which Caroline, though she was listening with both her ears, could not understand.

There followed a confused sort of pause, which Caroline, listening hard, could not understand.


A cry broke it--a sound of surprise, followed by the sound of a kiss; ejaculations, but half articulate, succeeded.

A cry of surprise broke it, followed by the sound of a kiss, and exclamations.


were the words chiefly to be distinguished.


"Et tu te portes toujours bien, bonne sur?"


inquired another voice--Robert's, certainly.

inquired another voice - Robert's, certainly.


Obeying an impulse the wisdom of which she had not time to question, she escaped from the little parlour, by way of leaving the coast clear, and running upstairs took up a position at the head of the banisters, whence she could make further observations ere presenting herself.

She ran upstairs to leave the coast clear, and stopped at the head of the banisters, where she could watch without being seen.


It was considerably past sunset now; dusk filled the passage, yet not such deep dusk but that she could presently see Robert and Hortense traverse it.

It was past sunset now; dusk filled the passage, yet she saw Robert and Hortense cross it.


called Hortense, a moment afterwards, "venez voir mon frre!"

called Hortense, "come and see my brother!"


"Strange," commented Miss Helstone, "passing strange!


What does this unwonted excitement about such an every-day occurrence as a return from market portend?

"Why this excitement about such an everyday occurrence as a return from market?


Surely the burnt treacle has not crazed her?"


Yet more was she fluttered when Hortense seized her hand at the parlour door, and leading her to Robert, who stood in bodily presence, tall and dark against the one window, presented her with a mixture of agitation and formality, as though they had been utter strangers, and this was their first mutual introduction.

She was still more fluttered when Hortense seized her hand at the parlour door, and leading her to Robert, who stood tall and dark against the window, presented her with a mixture of agitation and formality, as though they had been utter strangers.


He bowed rather awkwardly, and turning from her with a stranger's embarrassment, he met the doubtful light from the window.

He bowed rather awkwardly, and as he turned from her with a stranger's embarrassment, the dim light from the window fell on his face.


It fell on his face, and the enigma of the dream (a dream it seemed) was at its height.

The enigma of the dream was at its height.


She saw a visage like and unlike--Robert, and no Robert.

She saw a visage like and unlike - Robert, and no Robert.


"Certainly it is your cousin," asserted Hortense.


Then who was this now coming through the passage--now entering the room?

Then who was this now coming through the passage - now entering the room?


Caroline, looking round, met a new Robert--the real Robert, as she felt at once.

Caroline, looking round, met a new Robert - the real Robert, as she felt at once.


"Well," said he, smiling at her questioning, astonished face, "which is which?"

"Well," said he, smiling at her astonished face, "which is which?"


You never saw him before, but you have heard of him."


"It _can_ be only one person--your brother, since it is so like you; my other cousin, Louis."

"It can only be your brother; my cousin Louis."


But now, see us together.--Change places; change again, to confuse her, Louis.--Which is the old love now, Lina?"

"Now, see us together. - Change places, and again, Louis. Which is the old love now, Lina?"


"As if it were possible to make a mistake when you speak!


It is only your height, your figure, and complexion that are so similar."


asked the newcomer, making a first effort to overcome what seemed his natural shyness.

asked the newcomer, making an effort to overcome what seemed his natural shyness.


A soft, expressive ray from her eye beamed on the real Robert. It said much.

Her eye beamed softly on the real Robert, saying much.


She was not permitted to quit her cousins soon.


Robert himself was peremptory in obliging her to remain.


Glad, simple, and affable in her demeanour (glad for this night, at least), in light, bright spirits for the time, she was too pleasant an addition to the cottage circle to be willingly parted with by any of them.

Glad, simple, and in light, bright spirits for the time, she was too pleasant an addition to the cottage circle to be willingly parted with.


Louis seemed naturally rather a grave, still, retiring man; but the Caroline of this evening, which was not (as you know, reader) the Caroline of every day, thawed his reserve, and cheered his gravity soon.

Louis seemed naturally rather a grave, retiring man; but the Caroline of this evening, which was not the Caroline of every day, thawed his reserve.


She already knew his vocation was that of tuition. She learned now he had for some years been the tutor of Mr. Sympson's son; that he had been travelling with him, and had accompanied him to the north.

She already knew he was a tutor; she learned now that he had for some years been the tutor of Mr. Sympson's son; that he had been travelling with him, and had accompanied him here.


She inquired if he liked his post, but got a look in reply which did not invite or license further question.

She inquired if he liked his post, but got a look in reply which did not invite further question.


The look woke Caroline's ready sympathy.


She thought it a very sad expression to pass over so sensible a face as Louis's; for he _had_ a sensible face, though not handsome, she considered, when seen near Robert's.

She thought it a very sad expression to pass over so sensible a face; for Louis had a sensible face, though not so handsome as Robert's.


Robert was leaning against the wall, a little behind her, turning over the leaves of a book of engravings, and probably listening, at the same time, to the dialogue between her and Louis.


"I see now it is Hortense Louis resembles, not Robert."

"It is Hortense Louis resembles, not Robert."


He had the shorter nose and longer upper lip of his sister rather than the fine traits of his brother. He had her mould of mouth and chin--all less decisive, accurate, and clear than those of the young mill-owner.

He had a shorter nose and less decisive mouth and chin than the young mill-owner.


His air, though deliberate and reflective, could scarcely be called prompt and acute.

His air, though deliberate, could scarcely be called prompt.


You felt, in sitting near and looking up at him, that a slower and probably a more benignant nature than that of the elder Moore shed calm on your impressions.

You felt that he had a slower and probably a more benignant nature than the elder Moore.


Robert--perhaps aware that Caroline's glance had wandered towards and dwelt upon him, though he had neither met nor answered it--put down the book of engravings, and approaching, took a seat at her side.

Robert - perhaps aware of Caroline's glance - came over and took a seat at her side.


She resumed her conversation with Louis, but while she talked to him her thoughts were elsewhere.

She resumed her conversation with Louis, but her thoughts were elsewhere.


Her heart beat on the side from which her face was half averted.


She acknowledged a steady, manly, kindly air in Louis; but she bent before the secret power of Robert.


To be so near him--though he was silent, though he did not touch so much as her scarf-fringe or the white hem of her dress--affected her like a spell.

To be so near him, though he was silent, affected her like a spell.


Had she been obliged to speak to him _only_, it would have quelled, but, at liberty to address another, it excited her.

Had she been obliged to speak to him only, it would have quelled her, but, at liberty to address another, it excited her.


Her discourse flowed freely; it was gay, playful, eloquent.


The indulgent look and placid manner of her auditor encouraged her to ease; the sober pleasure expressed by his smile drew out all that was brilliant in her nature.

The sober pleasure expressed by her listener's smile drew out all that was brilliant in her nature.


She felt that this evening she appeared to advantage, and as Robert was a spectator, the consciousness contented her.

She felt that this evening she appeared to advantage.


Had he been called away, collapse would at once have succeeded stimulus.


But her enjoyment was not long to shine full-orbed; a cloud soon crossed it.


Hortense, who for some time had been on the move ordering supper, and was now clearing the little table of some books, etc., to make room for the tray, called Robert's attention to the glass of flowers, the carmine and snow and gold of whose petals looked radiant indeed by candlelight.

Hortense, who was now clearing the little table to make room for the supper-tray, called Robert's attention to the vase of flowers.


"They came from Fieldhead," she said, "intended as a gift to you, no doubt.


We know who is the favourite there; not I, I'm sure."


It was a wonder to hear Hortense jest--a sign that her spirits were at high-water mark indeed.

It was a wonder to hear Hortense jest - a sign that her spirits were high indeed.


"We are to understand, then, that Robert is the favourite?"


"Mon cher," replied Hortense, "Robert--c'est tout ce qu'il y a de plus prcieux au monde; ct de lui le reste du genre humain n'est que du rebut.--N'ai-je pas raison, mon enfant?"

"The most precious in the world," replied Hortense; "beside him the rest of the human race is nothing. Am I not right, my child?"


Caroline was obliged to reply, "Yes," and her beacon was quenched. Her star withdrew as she spoke.

Caroline was obliged to reply, "Yes," and her star withdrew as she spoke.


"When you shall have an opportunity, ask herself," was the quiet answer.

"When you have an opportunity, ask her," was the quiet answer.


Whether he reddened or paled Caroline did not examine.


She discovered that it was late, and she must go home.

Caroline discovered that it was late, and she must go home.


Home she would go; not even Robert could detain her now.


Being a quiet man, he endured it better than most men would.


Having a large world of his own in his own head and heart, he tolerated confinement to a small, still corner of the real world very patiently.

Having a large world in his own head and heart, he tolerated confinement to a small, still corner of the real world very patiently.


All but Moore--Miss Keeldar, the whole family of the Sympsons, even Henry--are gone to Nunnely.


Sir Philip would have them come; he wished to make them acquainted with his mother and sisters, who are now at the priory.

Sir Philip wished them to meet his mother and sisters, who are now at the priory.


Kind gentleman as the baronet is, he asked the tutor too; but the tutor would much sooner have made an appointment with the ghost of the Earl of Huntingdon to meet him, and a shadowy ring of his merry men, under the canopy of the thickest, blackest, oldest oak in Nunnely Forest.

The kind baronet asked the tutor too; but the tutor would rather have arranged to meet a ghost in the middle of Nunnely forest.


Yes, he would rather have appointed tryst with a phantom abbess, or mist-pale nun, among the wet and weedy relics of that ruined sanctuary of theirs, mouldering in the core of the wood.


Louis Moore longs to have something near him to-night; but not the boy-baronet, nor his benevolent but stern mother, nor his patrician sisters, nor one soul of the Sympsons.


This night is not calm; the equinox still struggles in its storms. The wild rains of the day are abated; the great single cloud disparts and rolls away from heaven, not passing and leaving a sea all sapphire, but tossed buoyant before a continued, long-sounding, high-rushing moonlight tempest.

This night is not calm, although the wild rains have abated. The sky is tossed by a high-rushing moonlight tempest.


The moon reigns glorious, glad of the gale, as glad as if she gave herself to his fierce caress with love.

The moon reigns glorious, glad of the gale, as if she gave herself to his fierce caress with love.


No Endymion will watch for his goddess to-night.


There are no flocks out on the mountains; and it is well, for to-night she welcomes olus.


Moore, sitting in the schoolroom, heard the storm roar round the other gable and along the hall-front.

Moore, sitting in the schoolroom, hears the storm roar along the hall-front.


He wanted no shelter; he desired no subdued sounds or screened position.

He wants no shelter; he desires no subdued sounds.


"All the parlours are empty," said he. "I am sick at heart of this cell."

"I am sick at heart of this cell," says he.


He left it, and went where the casements, larger and freer than the branch-screened lattice of his own apartment, admitted unimpeded the dark-blue, the silver-fleeced, the stirring and sweeping vision of the autumn night-sky.

He leaves it, and goes where the windows, larger than those in his apartment, admit the sweeping vision of the autumn night-sky.


He carried no candle; unneeded was lamp or fire. The broad and clear though cloud-crossed and fluctuating beam of the moon shone on every floor and wall.

He carries no candle; moonbeams shine on every floor and wall.


He seems following a phantom from parlour to parlour.


This is not chill, and polished, and fireless like the _salon_.

This is not chill and fireless like the salon.


The hearth is hot and ruddy; the cinders tinkle in the intense heat of their clear glow; near the rug is a little work-table, a desk upon it, a chair near it.

The hearth is hot and ruddy; the cinders tinkle in the intense heat; near the rug is a little work-table, a desk and a chair.


Does the vision Moore has tracked occupy that chair?


You would think so, could you see him standing before it. There is as much interest now in his eye, and as much significance in his face, as if in this household solitude he had found a living companion, and was going to speak to it.

You would think so, if you could see him standing before it with interest in his eye.


A bag--a small satin bag--hangs on the chair-back.

A small satin bag hangs on the chair-back.


The desk is open, the keys are in the lock.


A pretty seal, a silver pen, a crimson berry or two of ripe fruit on a green leaf, a small, clean, delicate glove--these trifles at once decorate and disarrange the stand they strew.

A pretty seal, a silver pen, a crimson berry or two on a green leaf, a small, clean glove - these trifles at once decorate and disarrange the picture.


Order forbids details in a picture--she puts them tidily away; but details give charm.


"Here she has been--careless, attractive thing!--called away in haste, doubtless, and forgetting to return and put all to rights.

"Here she has been - careless, attractive thing! - called away in haste, and forgetting to put all to rights.


Why does she leave fascination in her footprints?


Whence did she acquire the gift to be heedless and never offend? There is always something to chide in her, and the reprimand never settles in displeasure on the heart, but, for her lover or her husband, when it had trickled a while in words, would naturally melt from his lips in a kiss.

She is heedless - there is always something to chide in her, but she never offends. Any reprimand from her lover or her husband would naturally melt from his lips in a kiss.


Better pass half an hour in remonstrating with her than a day in admiring or praising any other woman alive.

Better pass half an hour in remonstrating with her than a day in praising any other woman alive.


He stood thinking, and then he made an arrangement for his evening's comfort.
He dropped the curtains over the broad window and regal moon.

He stood thinking, and then he closed the curtains.


He shut out sovereign and court and starry armies; he added fuel to the hot but fast-wasting fire; he lit a candle, of which there were a pair on the table; he placed another chair opposite that near the workstand; and then he sat down.

He added fuel to the fire; he lit a candle, and placed another chair at the desk; and he sat down.


His next movement was to take from his pocket a small, thick book of blank paper, to produce a pencil, and to begin to write in a cramp, compact hand.

Taking from his pocket a small notebook and a pencil, he began to write in a cramped, compact hand.


Stoop over his shoulder fearlessly, and read as he scribbles.

Stoop over his shoulder, and read as he scribbles.


"It is nine o'clock; the carriage will not return before eleven, I am certain.

"It is nine o'clock; the carriage will not return before eleven.


Freedom is mine till then; till then I may occupy her room, sit opposite her chair, rest my elbow on her table, have her little mementoes about me.

Freedom is mine till then; I may occupy her room, with her little mementoes about me.


"I used rather to like Solitude--to fancy her a somewhat quiet and serious, yet fair nymph; an Oread, descending to me from lone mountain-passes, something of the blue mist of hills in her array and of their chill breeze in her breath, but much also of their solemn beauty in her mien.


I once could court her serenely, and imagine my heart easier when I held her to it--all mute, but majestic.

I once could court Solitude serenely, and imagine my heart easier when I found her - mute, but majestic.


"Since that day I called S. to me in the schoolroom, and she came and sat so near my side; since she opened the trouble of her mind to me, asked my protection, appealed to my strength--since that hour I abhor Solitude.

"Since that day I called S. to me in the schoolroom, and she came and sat so near my side; since she opened the trouble of her mind to me, asked my protection, appealed to my strength - since that hour I abhor Solitude.


Cold abstraction, fleshless skeleton, daughter, mother, and mate of Death!


"It is pleasant to write about what is near and dear as the core of my heart.


None can deprive me of this little book, and through this pencil I can say to it what I will--say what I dare utter to nothing living--say what I dare not _think_ aloud.

Through this pencil I can say what I will - say what I dare not even think aloud.


"We have scarcely encountered each other since that evening.


Once, when I was alone in the drawing-room, seeking a book of Henry's, she entered, dressed for a concert at Stilbro'.

Once, when I was alone in the drawing-room, she entered, dressed for a concert at Stilbro'.


Shyness--_her_ shyness, not mine--drew a silver veil between us.

Her shyness drew a silver veil between us.


Much cant have I heard and read about 'maiden modesty,' but, properly used, and not hackneyed, the words are good and appropriate words.

Much triteness have I heard and read about 'maiden modesty,' but used properly, the words are good.


As she passed to the window, after tacitly but gracefully recognizing me, I could call her nothing in my own mind save 'stainless virgin.'


To my perception, a delicate splendour robed her, and the modesty of girlhood was her halo.

A delicate splendour robed her, and the modesty of girlhood was her halo.


I may be the most fatuous, as I am one of the plainest, of men, but in truth that shyness of hers touched me exquisitely; it flattered my finest sensations.

I may be the most fatuous of men, but in truth that shyness of hers touched me exquisitely.


I was alive with a life of Paradise, as she turned _her_ glance from _my_ glance, and softly averted her head to hide the suffusion of her cheek.

I was alive to Paradise, as she turned her glance from my glance, and softly averted her head to hide the blush on her cheek.


"I know this is the talk of a dreamer--of a rapt, romantic lunatic.

"I know this is the talk of a dreamer - of a rapt, romantic lunatic.


I _will_ dream now and then; and if she has inspired romance into my prosaic composition, how can I help it?

I do dream now and then; how can I help it?


What an unsophisticated, untaught thing!


I see her now looking up into my face, and entreating me to prevent them from smothering her, and to be sure and give her a strong narcotic.


I see her confessing that she was not so self-sufficing, so independent of sympathy, as people thought.


I see the secret tear drop quietly from her eyelash.


She said I thought her childish, and I did.


It was unutterably sweet to feel myself at once near her and above her--to be conscious of a natural right and power to sustain her, as a husband should sustain his wife.

It was unutterably sweet to feel myself at once near her and above her - to be conscious of a natural right and power to sustain her, as a husband should sustain his wife.


"I worship her perfections; but it is her faults, or at least her foibles, that bring her near to me, that nestle her to my heart, that fold her about with my love, and that for a most selfish but deeply-natural reason.

"I worship her perfections; but it is her faults, her foibles, that bring her near to me, that nestle her to my heart, for a selfish but deeply-natural reason.


These faults are the steps by which I mount to ascendency over her.

These faults are the steps by which I can have ascendency over her.


If she rose a trimmed, artificial mound, without inequality, what vantage would she offer the foot?


It is the natural hill, with its mossy breaks and hollows, whose slope invites ascent, whose summit it is pleasure to gain.


If I were a king and she the housemaid that swept my palace-stairs, across all that space between us my eye would recognize her qualities; a true pulse would beat for her in my heart, though an unspanned gulf made acquaintance impossible.

If I were a king and she the housemaid that swept my palace-stairs, across all that space between us my eye would recognize her qualities; a pulse would beat for her in my heart.


If I were a gentleman, and she waited on me as a servant, I could not help liking that Shirley.


Take from her her education; take her ornaments, her sumptuous dress, all extrinsic advantages; take all grace, but such as the symmetry of her form renders inevitable; present her to me at a cottage door, in a stuff gown; let her offer me there a draught of water, with that smile, with that warm good-will with which she now dispenses manorial hospitality--I should like her.

Take away her education, her ornaments, her sumptuous dress; place her at a cottage door, in a drab gown; let her offer me there a drink of water, with that smile - I should like her; I should linger to talk with her.


I should wish to stay an hour; I should linger to talk with that rustic.


I should not feel as I _now_ do; I should find in her nothing divine; but whenever I met the young peasant, it would be with pleasure; whenever I left her, it would be with regret.


"How culpably careless in her to leave her desk open, where I know she has money!

"How careless in her to leave her desk open, where I know she has money!


In the lock hang the keys of all her repositories, of her very jewel-casket.


There is a purse in that little satin bag; I see the tassel of silver beads hanging out.

There is a purse in that little satin bag; I see the beaded tassel hanging out.


That spectacle would provoke my brother Robert. All her little failings would, I know, be a source of irritation to him.

All her little failings would, I know, irritate my brother Robert.


If they vex me it is a most pleasurable vexation.


I delight to find her at fault; and were I always resident with her, I am aware she would be no niggard in thus ministering to my enjoyment.


She would just give me something to do, to rectify--a theme for my tutor lectures.


I never lecture Henry, never feel disposed to do so.


If he does wrong--and that is very seldom, dear, excellent lad!--a word suffices.

If he does wrong - and that is very seldom, dear, excellent lad! - a word suffices.


But the moment her _minois mutin_ meets my eye, expostulatory words crowd to my lips. From a taciturn man I believe she would transform me into a talker.

But the moment her mischievous face meets my eye, expostulatory words crowd to my lips, transforming me into a talker.


Whence comes the delight I take in that talk?


The more _crne, malin, taquin_ is her mood, consequently the clearer occasion she gives me for disapprobation, the more I seek her, the better I like her.

The more teasing her mood, the more I seek her, the better I like her.


She is never wilder than when equipped in her habit and hat, never less manageable than when she and Zo come in fiery from a race with the wind on the hills; and I confess it--to this mute page I may confess it--I have waited an hour in the court for the chance of witnessing her return, and for the dearer chance of receiving her in my arms from the saddle.

"She is never wilder, never less manageable than when she comes in fiery from a ride on the hills; and I confess I have waited an hour in the courtyard for the chance of seeing her return, and for the dearer chance of lifting her from the saddle.


I have noticed (again it is to this page only I would make the remark) that she will never permit any man but myself to render her that assistance. I have seen her politely decline Sir Philip Nunnely's aid.

I have noticed that she will never permit any man but myself to do that; not even Sir Philip Nunnely.


She is always mighty gentle with her young baronet, mighty tender for his feelings, forsooth, and of his very thin-skinned _amour propre_.

She is always mighty gentle with her young baronet.


I have marked her haughtily reject Sam Wynne's.


Now I know--my heart knows it, for it has felt it--that she resigns herself to me unreluctantly.

But I know that she resigns herself to me willingly.


Is she conscious how my strength rejoices to serve her?


I myself am not her slave--I declare it--but my faculties gather to her beauty, like the genii to the glisten of the lamp. All my knowledge, all my prudence, all my calm, and all my power stand in her presence humbly waiting a task.

I myself am not her slave; but all my knowledge, all my prudence, all my calm, and all my power stand in her presence humbly waiting a task.


What joy they take in the toils she assigns!


It is remarkable that her carelessness never compromises her refinement.

Yet her carelessness never compromises her refinement.


Indeed, through this very loophole of character, the reality, depth, genuineness of that refinement may be ascertained.


A whole garment sometimes covers meagreness and malformation; through a rent sleeve a fair round arm may be revealed.


I have seen and handled many of her possessions, because they are frequently astray. I never saw anything that did not proclaim the lady--nothing sordid, nothing soiled.

Her possessions are frequently astray, but amongst them I never saw anything that did not proclaim the lady - nothing sordid, nothing soiled.


In one sense she is as scrupulous as, in another, she is unthinking.


As a peasant girl, she would go ever trim and cleanly.


Look at the pure kid of this little glove, at the fresh, unsullied satin of the bag.


"What a difference there is between S. and that pearl C. H.!

"What a difference there is between her and Caroline Helstone!


Caroline, I fancy, is the soul of conscientious punctuality and nice exactitude.

Caroline, I fancy, is the soul of conscientious punctuality.


She would precisely suit the domestic habits of a certain fastidious kinsman of mine--so delicate, dexterous, quaint, quick, quiet--all done to a minute, all arranged to a strawbreadth.

She would precisely suit the domestic habits of a certain kinsman of mine - so dexterous, quick and quiet.


But what could _I_ do with anything so nearly faultless?

But what could I do with anything so nearly faultless?


She is certainly pretty: a little Raffaelle head hers--Raffaelle in feature, quite English in expression, all insular grace and purity; but where is there anything to alter, anything to endure, anything to reprimand, to be anxious about?

She is certainly pretty: but where is there anything to alter, anything to endure, anything to reprimand, to be anxious about?


There she is, a lily of the valley, untinted, needing no tint.

She is a lily of the valley, needing no tint.


What change could improve her? What pencil dare to paint?


_My_ sweetheart, if I ever have one, must bear nearer affinity to the rose--a sweet, lively delight guarded with prickly peril.

My sweetheart, if I ever have one, must bear affinity to the rose - a sweet, lively delight guarded with prickly peril.


_My_ wife, if I ever marry, must stir my great frame with a sting now and then; she must furnish use to her husband's vast mass of patience.


I was not made so enduring to be mated with a lamb; I should find more congenial responsibility in the charge of a young lioness or leopardess.

I was not made to be mated with a lamb; I should find a young lioness or leopardess more congenial.


I like few things sweet but what are likewise pungent--few things bright but what are likewise hot.


I like the summer day, whose sun makes fruit blush and corn blanch.


Beauty is never so beautiful as when, if I tease it, it wreathes back on me with spirit.


Fascination is never so imperial as when, roused and half ireful, she threatens transformation to fierceness.


I fear I should tire of the mute, monotonous innocence of the lamb; I should ere long feel as burdensome the nestling dove which never stirred in my bosom; but my patience would exult in stilling the flutterings and training the energies of the restless merlin.

I should tire of the lamb's mute, monotonous innocence; I should feel as burdensome the nestling dove which never stirred in my bosom; but my patience would exult in stilling the flutterings and training the energies of the restless falcon.


In managing the wild instincts of the scarce manageable _bte fauve_ my powers would revel.


too mutinous for heaven, too innocent for hell, never shall I do more than see, and worship, and wish for thee.

Never shall I do more than see, and worship, and wish for thee.


knowing I could make thee happy, will it be my doom to see thee possessed by those who have not that power?


"However kindly the hand, if it is feeble, it cannot bend Shirley; and she must be bent.

"However kind the hand, if it is feeble, it cannot bend Shirley; and she must be bent.


It cannot curb her; and she must be curbed.


I never see you walking or sitting at her side, and observe her lips compressed, or her brow knit, in resolute endurance of some trait of your character which she neither admires nor likes, in determined toleration of some weakness she believes atoned for by a virtue, but which annoys her despite that belief; I never mark the grave glow of her face, the unsmiling sparkle of her eye, the slight recoil of her whole frame when you draw a little too near, and gaze a little too expressively, and whisper a little too warmly--I never witness these things but I think of the fable of Semele reversed.

I never see her at your side without observing her lips compressed, or her brow knit, in resolute endurance of some trait of your character which she does not like, but believes atoned for by a virtue. I observe her slight recoil when you draw a little too near, and gaze a little too expressively, and whisper a little too warmly.


"It is not the daughter of Cadmus I see, nor do I realize her fatal longing to look on Jove in the majesty of his god-head.


It is a priest of Juno that stands before me, watching late and lone at a shrine in an Argive temple.

"I see a priest of Juno: he stands before me, watching late and lone at a shrine in an Argive temple.


For years of solitary ministry he has lived on dreams.


He loves the idol he serves, and prays day and night that his frenzy may be fed, and that the Ox-eyed may smile on her votary.

He loves the idol he serves, and prays day and night that his frenzy may be fed.


The doors of the temple are shut; the priest waits at the altar.


"A shock of heaven and earth is felt--not by the slumbering city, only by that lonely watcher, brave and unshaken in his fanaticism.

"A shock of heaven and earth is felt by that brave, lonely watcher.


In the midst of silence, with no preluding sound, he is wrapped in sudden light.


Through the roof, through the rent, wide-yawning, vast, white-blazing blue of heaven above, pours a wondrous descent, dread as the downrushing of stars.

Through the roof, through the wide-yawning, vast blue of heaven, pours a wondrous descent, dread as the downrushing of stars.


Withdraw--forbear to look--I am blinded.


I hear in that fane an unspeakable sound.


I see an insufferable glory burning terribly between the pillars.


"A pious Argive enters to make an early offering in the cool dawn of morning.

"In the morning, a pious Argive enters to make an early offering.


There was thunder in the night; the bolt fell here.


The shrine is shivered, the marble pavement round split and blackened.

The shrine is shivered, the marble pavement split and blackened.


Saturnia's statue rises chaste, grand, untouched; at her feet piled ashes lie pale.


No priest remains; he who watched will be seen no more.


Let me lock up the desk and pocket the keys.


She will be seeking them to-morrow; she will have to come to me. I hear her: 'Mr. Moore, have you seen my keys?'
"So she will say, in her clear voice, speaking with reluctance, looking ashamed, conscious that this is the twentieth time of asking.

She will be seeking them tomorrow; she will have to come to me asking if I have seen them, looking ashamed, conscious that this is the twentieth time of asking.


I will tantalize her, keep her with me, expecting, doubting; and when I _do_ restore them, it shall not be without a lecture.

I will tantalize her, before restoring them with a lecture.


Here is the bag, too, and the purse; the glove--pen--seal.

Here is the bag, too, and the purse; the glove - pen - seal.


She shall wring them all out of me slowly and separately--only by confession, penitence, entreaty.

She shall wring them all out of me slowly and separately - only by confession, penitence, entreaty.


I never can touch her hand, or a ringlet of her head, or a ribbon of her dress, but I will make privileges for myself.


Every feature of her face, her bright eyes, her lips, shall go through each change they know, for my pleasure--display each exquisite variety of glance and curve, to delight, thrill, perhaps more hopelessly to enchain me.

Every feature of her face, her bright eyes, her lips, shall go through each change they know, for my pleasure - display each exquisite variety of glance and curve, to delight, thrill, perhaps more hopelessly to enchain me.


If I must be her slave, I will not lose my freedom for nothing."


He locked the desk, pocketed all the property, and went.


Moore's good spirits were still with him when he rose next morning.

Moore was still in good spirits when he rose next morning.


He and Joe Scott had both spent the night in the mill, availing themselves of certain sleeping accommodations producible from recesses in the front and back counting-houses.

He and Joe Scott had spent the night in the mill, on camp-beds kept in the counting-houses.


The master, always an early riser, was up somewhat sooner even than usual. He awoke his man by singing a French song as he made his toilet.

The master was up early, and awoke his man by singing a French song as he dressed.


"Not a stiver, mon garon--which means, my lad.


Get up, and we'll take a turn through the mill before the hands come in, and I'll explain my future plans.

"Get up, Joseph, and we'll walk through the mill before the hands come in, and I'll explain my plans.


I've read th' history o' Scotland, and happen knaw as mich on't as ye; and I understand ye to mean to say ye'll persevere."


"Is there mony o' your mak' i' your country?"

"Is there many like you i' your country?"


inquired Joe, as he folded up his temporary bed, and put it away.


The circumstance of the French having seized Antwerp, where I was born, does not make me a Frenchman."

Just because the French have seized Antwerp, where I was born, does not make me a Frenchman."


"Now you are confounding Antwerp with Amsterdam."


Have I a Flemish face--the clumsy nose standing out, the mean forehead falling back, the pale blue eyes ' fleur de tte'?

Have I a Flemish face, with a clumsy nose and pale blue eyes?


Am I all body and no legs, like a Flamand?


But you don't know what they are like, those Netherlanders.


Joe, I'm an Anversois. My mother was an Anversoise, though she came of French lineage, which is the reason I speak French."

Joe, I'm an Anversois - a native of Antwerp - though my mother came of French lineage, which is why I speak French."


"But your father war Yorkshire, which maks ye a bit Yorkshire too; and onybody may see ye're akin to us, ye're so keen o' making brass, and getting forrards."

"But your father were Yorkshire, which maks ye a bit Yorkshire too; and onybody may see ye're akin to us, ye're so keen o' making brass."


"Joe, you're an impudent dog; but I've always been accustomed to a boorish sort of insolence from my youth up.


The 'classe ouvrire'--that is, the working people in Belgium--bear themselves brutally towards their employers; and by _brutally_, Joe, I mean _brutalement_--which, perhaps, when properly translated, should be _roughly_."


"We allus speak our minds i' this country; and them young parsons and grand folk fro' London is shocked at wer 'incivility;' and we like weel enough to gi'e 'em summat to be shocked at, 'cause it's sport to us to watch 'em turn up the whites o' their een, and spreed out their bits o' hands, like as they're flayed wi' bogards, and then to hear 'em say, nipping off their words short like, 'Dear!

"We allus speak our minds i' this country; and them young parsons and grand folk fro' London is shocked at it; and we like to gi'e 'em summat to be shocked at, so we can watch 'em widen their eyes, and say, 'Dear!


You don't suppose you're civilized, do you?"


I reckon 'at us manufacturing lads i' th' north is a deal more intelligent, and knaws a deal more nor th' farming folk i' th' south.

I reckon us manufacturing lads i' th' north is a deal more intelligent nor th' farming folk i' th' south.


Trade sharpens wer wits; and them that's mechanics like me is forced to think.

Trade sharpens our wits; and mechanics like me is forced to think.


Ye know, what wi' looking after machinery and sich like, I've getten into that way that when I see an effect, I look straight out for a cause, and I oft lig hold on't to purpose; and then I like reading, and I'm curious to knaw what them that reckons to govern us aims to do for us and wi' us.

When I see an effect, I look straight away for a cause; and then I like reading."


And there's many 'cuter nor me; there's many a one amang them greasy chaps 'at smells o' oil, and amang them dyers wi' blue and black skins, that has a long head, and that can tell what a fooil of a law is, as well as ye or old Yorke, and a deal better nor soft uns like Christopher Sykes o' Whinbury, and greet hectoring nowts like yond' Irish Peter, Helstone's curate."


"You think yourself a clever fellow, I know, Scott."

"You think yourself a clever fellow, Scott."


I can tell cheese fro' chalk, and I'm varry weel aware that I've improved sich opportunities as I have had, a deal better nor some 'at reckons to be aboon me; but there's thousands i' Yorkshire that's as good as me, and a two-three that's better."

I'm fairish; but there's thousands i' Yorkshire that's as good as me, and a few that's better."


"You're a great man--you're a sublime fellow; but you're a prig, a conceited noodle with it all, Joe!

"You're a sublime fellow; but you're a conceited noodle too, Joe!


You need not to think that because you've picked up a little knowledge of practical mathematics, and because you have found some scantling of the elements of chemistry at the bottom of a dyeing vat, that therefore you're a neglected man of science; and you need not to suppose that because the course of trade does not always run smooth, and you, and such as you, are sometimes short of work and of bread, that therefore your class are martyrs, and that the whole form of government under which you live is wrong.

You need not think that because you've picked up a little mathematics, and the elements of chemistry at the bottom of a dyeing vat, that therefore you're a neglected man of science.


And, moreover, you need not for a moment to insinuate that the virtues have taken refuge in cottages and wholly abandoned slated houses.

Virtue does not live only in workmen's cottages.


Let me tell you, I particularly abominate that sort of trash, because I know so well that human nature is human nature everywhere, whether under tile or thatch, and that in every specimen of human nature that breathes, vice and virtue are ever found blended, in smaller or greater proportions, and that the proportion is not determined by station.

Human nature is human nature everywhere, amongst rich or poor, and in between.


I have seen villains who were rich, and I have seen villains who were poor, and I have seen villains who were neither rich nor poor, but who had realized Agar's wish, and lived in fair and modest competency.


Away with you, Joe, and ring the mill bell."


It was now the middle of the month of February; by six o'clock therefore dawn was just beginning to steal on night, to penetrate with a pale ray its brown obscurity, and give a demi-translucence to its opaque shadows.

It was now the middle of February; dawn was just beginning to penetrate the brown obscurity of night with a pale ray.


Pale enough that ray was on this particular morning: no colour tinged the east, no flush warmed it. To see what a heavy lid day slowly lifted, what a wan glance she flung along the hills, you would have thought the sun's fire quenched in last night's floods.

No colour tinged the east, as day slowly lifted a heavy eyelid.


The breath of this morning was chill as its aspect; a raw wind stirred the mass of night-cloud, and showed, as it slowly rose, leaving a colourless, silver-gleaming ring all round the horizon, not blue sky, but a stratum of paler vapour beyond.


It had ceased to rain, but the earth was sodden, and the pools and rivulets were full.


The mill-windows were alight, the bell still rung loud, and now the little children came running in, in too great a hurry, let us hope, to feel very much nipped by the inclement air; and indeed, by contrast, perhaps the morning appeared rather favourable to them than otherwise, for they had often come to their work that winter through snow-storms, through heavy rain, through hard frost.

The mill-windows were alight, the bell rung loud, and now the little children came running in, in too great a hurry, let us hope, to feel the cold.


Mr. Moore stood at the entrance to watch them pass. He counted them as they went by.

Mr. Moore stood at the entrance, counting them as they went by.


To those who came rather late he said a word of reprimand, which was a little more sharply repeated by Joe Scott when the lingerers reached the work-rooms.

To those who came late he said a word of reprimand, which was a little more sharply repeated by Joe Scott when they reached the work-rooms.


Neither master nor overlooker spoke savagely. They were not savage men either of them, though it appeared both were rigid, for they fined a delinquent who came considerably too late.

Neither master nor overlooker spoke savagely, although they fined one boy a penny for coming very late.


Mr. Moore made him pay his penny down ere he entered, and informed him that the next repetition of the fault would cost him twopence.


Rules, no doubt, are necessary in such cases, and coarse and cruel masters will make coarse and cruel rules, which, at the time we treat of at least, they used sometimes to enforce tyrannically; but though I describe imperfect characters (every character in this book will be found to be more or less imperfect, my pen refusing to draw anything in the model line), I have not undertaken to handle degraded or utterly infamous ones.

Though I describe imperfect characters (every character in this book will be found to be more or less imperfect, my pen refusing to draw anything in the model line), I do not handle utterly degraded ones.


Child-torturers, slave masters and drivers, I consign to the hands of jailers.

There are no child-torturers or slave drivers here.


The novelist may be excused from sullying his page with the record of their deeds.


Instead, then, of harrowing up my reader's soul and delighting his organ of wonder with effective descriptions of stripes and scourgings, I am happy to be able to inform him that neither Mr. Moore nor his overlooker ever struck a child in their mill.

I am happy to inform my reader that neither Mr. Moore nor his overlooker ever struck a child in their mill.


Joe had, indeed, once very severely flogged a son of his own for telling a lie and persisting in it; but, like his employer, he was too phlegmatic, too calm, as well as too reasonable a man, to make corporal chastisement other than the exception to his treatment of the young.


Mr. Moore haunted his mill, his mill-yard, his dye-house, and his warehouse till the sickly dawn strengthened into day.

Mr. Moore haunted his mill, his dye-house, and his warehouse till the sickly dawn strengthened into day.


The sun even rose--at least a white disc, clear, tintless, and almost chill-looking as ice, peeped over the dark crest of a hill, changed to silver the livid edge of the cloud above it, and looked solemnly down the whole length of the den, or narrow dale, to whose strait bounds we are at present limited.

The sun rose - a clear white disc, as chill as ice.


It was eight o'clock; the mill lights were all extinguished; the signal was given for breakfast; the children, released for half an hour from toil, betook themselves to the little tin cans which held their coffee, and to the small baskets which contained their allowance of bread.

At eight o'clock the signal was given for breakfast; the children, released for half an hour from toil, opened their little tin cans of coffee, and their small baskets of bread.


Let us hope they have enough to eat; it would be a pity were it otherwise.


And now at last Mr. Moore quitted the mill-yard, and bent his steps to his dwelling-house.

And now at last Mr. Moore quitted the mill-yard, and went to his house.


It was only a short distance from the factory, but the hedge and high bank on each side of the lane which conducted to it seemed to give it something of the appearance and feeling of seclusion.

It was only a short distance from the factory, but secluded by a hedge and high bank on each side of the lane.


It was a small, whitewashed place, with a green porch over the door; scanty brown stalks showed in the garden soil near this porch, and likewise beneath the windows--stalks budless and flowerless now, but giving dim prediction of trained and blooming creepers for summer days.

It was a small, whitewashed place, with a green porch over the door; scanty brown stalks showed in the garden soil beneath the windows, predicting blooming creepers for summer days.


A grass plat and borders fronted the cottage.


The borders presented only black mould yet, except where, in sheltered nooks, the first shoots of snowdrop or crocus peeped, green as emerald, from the earth.

Only in sheltered nooks did the first shoots of snowdrop or crocus peep, green as emerald, from the earth.


The spring was late; it had been a severe and prolonged winter; the last deep snow had but just disappeared before yesterday's rains; on the hills, indeed, white remnants of it yet gleamed, flecking the hollows and crowning the peaks; the lawn was not verdant, but bleached, as was the grass on the bank, and under the hedge in the lane.

The spring was late; the last deep snow had only just disappeared.


Three trees, gracefully grouped, rose beside the cottage. They were not lofty, but having no rivals near, they looked well and imposing where they grew.

Three trees, not lofty, but graceful, rose beside the cottage.


Such was Mr. Moore's home--a snug nest for content and contemplation, but one within which the wings of action and ambition could not long lie folded.

It was a snug nest, but one within which the wings of action and ambition could not long lie folded.


Its air of modest comfort seemed to possess no particular attraction for its owner.


Instead of entering the house at once he fetched a spade from a little shed and began to work in the garden.

Instead of entering the house, Mr. Moore fetched a spade from a shed and began to work in the garden.


For about a quarter of an hour he dug on uninterrupted. At length, however, a window opened, and a female voice called to him,--

For about a quarter of an hour he dug, until a window opened, and a female voice called:


The answer, and the rest of the conversation, was in French; but as this is an English book, I shall translate it into English.

His answer, and the rest of the conversation, I shall translate into English.


"Certainly; it has been ready half an hour."


He threw down his spade, and entered the house.


The narrow passage conducted him to a small parlour, where a breakfast of coffee and bread and butter, with the somewhat un-English accompaniment of stewed pears, was spread on the table.

The narrow passage led him to a small parlour, where a breakfast of coffee, bread and butter, and stewed pears, was spread on the table.


Over these viands presided the lady who had spoken from the window.

Over this meal presided the lady who had spoken from the window.


I must describe her before I go any farther.


She seemed a little older than Mr. Moore--perhaps she was thirty-five, tall, and proportionately stout; she had very black hair, for the present twisted up in curl-papers, a high colour in her cheeks, a small nose, a pair of little black eyes.

She was a little older than Mr. Moore - perhaps thirty-five, tall, and stout; she had very black hair, twisted up in curl-papers, a high colour in her cheeks, and little black eyes.


The lower part of her face was large in proportion to the upper; her forehead was small and rather corrugated; she had a fretful though not an ill-natured expression of countenance; there was something in her whole appearance one felt inclined to be half provoked with and half amused at.

Her forehead was rather corrugated; she had a fretful though not an ill-natured expression.


The strangest point was her dress--a stuff petticoat and a striped cotton camisole.

The strangest point was her dress - a short petticoat and a striped cotton camisole.


The petticoat was short, displaying well a pair of feet and ankles which left much to be desired in the article of symmetry.


You will think I have depicted a remarkable slattern, reader.

You will think she is a remarkable slattern, reader.


Hortense Moore (she was Mr. Moore's sister) was a very orderly, economical person.

Hortense Moore, Mr. Moore's sister, was a very orderly, economical person.


The petticoat, camisole, and curl-papers were her morning costume, in which, of forenoons, she had always been accustomed to "go her household ways" in her own country. She did not choose to adopt English fashions because she was obliged to live in England; she adhered to her old Belgian modes, quite satisfied that there was a merit in so doing.

The petticoat, camisole, and curl-papers were her usual morning costume: she adhered to her old Belgian customs.


Mademoiselle had an excellent opinion of herself--an opinion not wholly undeserved, for she possessed some good and sterling qualities; but she rather over-estimated the kind and degree of these qualities, and quite left out of the account sundry little defects which accompanied them.

Mademoiselle had an excellent opinion of herself - an opinion not wholly undeserved, for she possessed some good qualities; but she over-estimated her own virtues, and quite left out her various little defects.


You could never have persuaded her that she was a prejudiced and narrow-minded person, that she was too susceptible on the subject of her own dignity and importance, and too apt to take offence about trifles; yet all this was true.

You could never have persuaded her that she was prejudiced and narrow-minded, with too much self-importance, and too apt to take offence about trifles; yet all this was true.


However, where her claims to distinction were not opposed, and where her prejudices were not offended, she could be kind and friendly enough.

However, she could be kind and friendly enough.


To her two brothers (for there was another Grard Moore besides Robert) she was very much attached.

To her two brothers (for there was another besides Robert) she was very much attached.


As the sole remaining representatives of their decayed family, the persons of both were almost sacred in her eyes.


Of Louis, however, she knew less than of Robert.

Louis, however, she knew less well than Robert.


He had been sent to England when a mere boy, and had received his education at an English school. His education not being such as to adapt him for trade, perhaps, too, his natural bent not inclining him to mercantile pursuits, he had, when the blight of hereditary prospects rendered it necessary for him to push his own fortune, adopted the very arduous and very modest career of a teacher.

He had been sent to an English school when a mere boy, and had followed the arduous and modest career of a teacher.


He had been usher in a school, and was said now to be tutor in a private family.

He had taught in a school, and was said now to be tutor in a private family.


Hortense, when she mentioned Louis, described him as having what she called "des moyens," but as being too backward and quiet.

Hortense thought of him as backward and quiet.


Her praise of Robert was in a different strain, less qualified: she was very proud of him; she regarded him as the greatest man in Europe; all he said and did was remarkable in her eyes, and she expected others to behold him from the same point of view; nothing could be more irrational, monstrous, and infamous than opposition from any quarter to Robert, unless it were opposition to herself.

She was very proud of Robert, regarding him as the greatest man in Europe; all he said and did was remarkable in her eyes, and she expected others to have the same opinion.


Accordingly, as soon as the said Robert was seated at the breakfast-table, and she had helped him to a portion of stewed pears, and cut him a good-sized Belgian tartine, she began to pour out a flood of amazement and horror at the transaction of last night, the destruction of the frames.

As soon as Robert was seated at the breakfast-table, and she had helped him to some stewed pears and a good-sized Belgian tartine, she began to pour out a flood of amazement and horror at last night's destruction of the frames.


On voyait bien que les ouvriers de ce pays taient la fois betes et mchants. C'tait absolument comme les domestiques anglais, les servantes surtout: rien d'insupportable comme cette Sara, par exemple!"

It's clear that English workers are wicked beasts, just like English servants - that Sarah, for one!"


"She looks clean and industrious," Mr. Moore remarked.


I don't know how she looks, and I do not say that she is altogether dirty or idle, mais elle est d'une insolence!

I do not say that she is dirty or idle, but her insolence!


She disputed with me a quarter of an hour yesterday about the cooking of the beef; she said I boiled it to rags, that English people would never be able to eat such a dish as our bouilli, that the bouillon was no better than greasy warm water, and as to the choucroute, she affirms she cannot touch it!

She disputed with me a quarter of an hour yesterday about cooking the beef; she said I boiled it to rags, and that my stock was no better than greasy water!


That barrel we have in the cellar--delightfully prepared by my own hands--she termed a tub of hog-wash, which means food for pigs.


I am harassed with the girl, and yet I cannot part with her lest I should get a worse.

Yet I cannot part with the girl lest I should get a worse.


You are in the same position with your workmen, pauvre cher frre!"

You are in the same position with your workmen, my poor brother!"


"I am afraid you are not very happy in England, Hortense."


"It is my duty to be happy where you are, brother; but otherwise there are certainly a thousand things which make me regret our native town. All the world here appears to me ill-bred (mal-lev).

"It is my duty to be happy where you are, brother; but certainly people here appear to me ill-bred.


If a girl out of your mill chances to come into the kitchen and find me in my jupon and camisole preparing dinner (for you know I cannot trust Sarah to cook a single dish), she sneers.

If a girl from your mill chances to come into the kitchen and finds me in my camisole and petticoat, she sneers.


If I accept an invitation out to tea, which I have done once or twice, I perceive I am put quite into the background; I have not that attention paid me which decidedly is my due.

If I accept an invitation to tea, I am put quite into the background; I have not that attention paid me which is my due.


Of what an excellent family are the Grards, as we know, and the Moores also!

The Grards are an excellent family, and the Moores also!


They have a right to claim a certain respect, and to feel wounded when it is withheld from them.


In Antwerp I was always treated with distinction; here, one would think that when I open my lips in company I speak English with a ridiculous accent, whereas I am quite assured that I pronounce it perfectly."

In Antwerp I was always treated with distinction."


"Hortense, in Antwerp we were known rich; in England we were never known but poor."

"Hortense, in Antwerp we were known as rich; in England we have always been known as poor."


"Precisely, and thus mercenary are mankind.


Again, dear brother, last Sunday, if you recollect, was very wet; accordingly I went to church in my neat black sabots, objects one would not indeed wear in a fashionable city, but which in the country I have ever been accustomed to use for walking in dirty roads.

"Again, dear brother, last Sunday, because it was wet, I went to church in my neat black sabots, footwear which one would not indeed wear in a fashionable city, but which in the country I have always used on dirty roads.


Believe me, as I paced up the aisle, composed and tranquil, as I am always, four ladies, and as many gentlemen, laughed and hid their faces behind their prayer-books."

Believe me, as I paced up the aisle, four ladies laughed and hid their faces behind their prayer-books."


I told you before I thought they were not quite the thing for this country."

I told you before they were not quite the thing for this country.


"But, brother, they are not common sabots, such as the peasantry wear.


I tell you, they are sabots noirs, trs propres, trs convenables.


At Mons and Leuze--cities not very far removed from the elegant capital of Brussels--it is very seldom that the respectable people wear anything else for walking in winter.


Let any one try to wade the mud of the Flemish chausses in a pair of Paris brodequins, on m'en dirait des nouvelles!"


"Never mind Mons and Leuze and the Flemish chausses; do at Rome as the Romans do.


And as to the camisole and jupon, I am not quite sure about them either.

And as to the camisole and petticoat, I am not sure about them either.


I never see an English lady dressed in such garments.


It is _she_ who on all points should consult _me_.

It is she who on all points should consult me.


"She is eighteen, or at least seventeen--old enough to know all about gowns, petticoats, and chaussures."

"She is eighteen - old enough to know all about gowns and petticoats."


"Do not spoil Caroline, I entreat you, brother. Do not make her of more consequence than she ought to be.

"Do not make Caroline of more consequence than she ought to be, brother.


At present she is modest and unassuming: let us keep her so."


"She will come at ten, as usual, to take her French lesson."

"At ten, as usual, for her French lesson."


"You don't find that she sneers at you, do you?"


She appreciates me better than any one else here; but then she has more intimate opportunities of knowing me.

She appreciates me better than anyone else here; but then she sees more of me.


She sees that I have education, intelligence, manner, principles--all, in short, which belongs to a person well born and well bred."

She sees that I have the education and manner of a person well born and well bred."


I am not one who is prone to take violent fancies, and, consequently, my friendship is the more to be depended on.


I have a regard for her as my relative; her position also inspires interest, and her conduct as my pupil has hitherto been such as rather to enhance than diminish the attachment that springs from other causes."
"She behaves pretty well at lessons?"
"To _me_ she behaves very well; but you are conscious, brother, that I have a manner calculated to repel over-familiarity, to win esteem, and to command respect.

"I have a regard for her as my relative; and she behaves very well at lessons. But you know, brother, that my manner commands respect.


Yet, possessed of penetration, I perceive clearly that Caroline is not perfect, that there is much to be desired in her."

Yet I perceive clearly that Caroline is not perfect, that there is much to be desired in her."


"Give me a last cup of coffee, and while I am drinking it amuse me with an account of her faults."

"Give me a last cup of coffee, and while I am drinking it, amuse me with an account of her faults."


"Dear brother, I am happy to see you eat your breakfast with relish, after the fatiguing night you have passed.


Caroline, then, is defective; but with my forming hand and almost motherly care she may improve.

"Caroline is defective; but with my motherly care she may improve.


There is about her an occasional something--a reserve, I think--which I do not quite like, because it is not sufficiently girlish and submissive; and there are glimpses of an unsettled hurry in her nature, which put me out.

She has an occasional reserve, which I do not quite like, because it is not sufficiently girlish and submissive; and there are glimpses of an unsettled hurry in her nature, which put me out.


Yet she is usually most tranquil, too dejected and thoughtful indeed sometimes.


In time, I doubt not, I shall make her uniformly sedate and decorous, without being unaccountably pensive.

In time, I doubt not, I shall make her uniformly sedate."


I ever disapprove what is not intelligible."


"I don't understand your account in the least.


What do you mean by 'unsettled hurries,' for instance?"


"An example will, perhaps, be the most satisfactory explanation. I sometimes, you are aware, make her read French poetry by way of practice in pronunciation.

"For example, when I ask her to read French poetry to practice her pronunciation.


She has in the course of her lessons gone through much of Corneille and Racine, in a very steady, sober spirit, such as I approve.

She has gone through much of Corneille and Racine, in a very steady, sober spirit, such as I approve.


Occasionally she showed, indeed, a degree of languor in the perusal of those esteemed authors, partaking rather of apathy than sobriety; and apathy is what I cannot tolerate in those who have the benefit of my instructions--besides, one should not be apathetic in studying standard works.

Occasionally she seemed, indeed, apathetic.


The other day I put into her hands a volume of short fugitive pieces.

The other day I gave her a book of short pieces, to learn one by heart.


I sent her to the window to learn one by heart, and when I looked up I saw her turning the leaves over impatiently, and curling her lip, absolutely with scorn, as she surveyed the little poems cursorily.

I saw her turning the leaves over impatiently, and curling her lip with scorn.


'Ma cousine,' said she, 'tout cela m'ennuie la mort.'

'Cousin,' said she, 'all this bores me to death.


Are there not two lines of poetry in all of French literature?'


she exclaimed, 'il n'y a donc pas deux lignes de posie dans toute la littrature franaise?'


She begged my pardon with proper submission. Ere long she was still. I saw her smiling to herself over the book. She began to learn assiduously.

She begged my pardon, and began to learn assiduously.


In half an hour she came and stood before me, presented the volume, folded her hands, as I always require her to do, and commenced the repetition of that short thing by Chnier, 'La Jeune Captive.'

In half an hour she stood before me, and recited Chenier's La Jeune Captive.


If you had heard the manner in which she went through this, and in which she uttered a few incoherent comments when she had done, you would have known what I meant by the phrase 'unsettled hurry.'

If you had heard her, you would have known what I meant by 'unsettled hurry.'


One would have thought Chnier was more moving than all Racine and all Corneille.

One would have thought Chnier was more moving than all Racine and Corneille.


You, brother, who have so much sagacity, will discern that this disproportionate preference argues an ill-regulated mind; but she is fortunate in her preceptress.

She has an ill-regulated mind; but she is fortunate in her teacher.


I will give her a system, a method of thought, a set of opinions; I will give her the perfect control and guidance of her feelings."

I will give her a set of opinions; I will guide her feelings."


That was her shadow passed the window, I believe."