Caroline marvelled somewhat at this unusual want of self-command in a lady of her years, and also at the lack of real strength in one who appeared almost robust--for Mrs. Pryor hastened to allege the fatigue of her walk, the heat of the sun, etc., as reasons for her temporary indisposition; and still as, with more hurry than coherence, she again and again enumerated these causes of exhaustion, Caroline gently sought to relieve her by opening her shawl and removing her bonnet. Attentions of this sort Mrs. Pryor would not have accepted from every one.

Caroline marvelled at this unusual want of self-command in a lady of her years, and also at the lack of strength in one who appeared robust - for Mrs. Pryor said repeatedly that the fatigue of her walk and the heat were the reasons for her weakness. Caroline gently removed her shawl and bonnet: attentions that Mrs. Pryor would not have accepted from everyone.


In general she recoiled from touch or close approach with a mixture of embarrassment and coldness far from flattering to those who offered her aid.

In general she recoiled from touch with embarrassment and coldness.


To Miss Helstone's little light hand, however, she yielded tractably, and seemed soothed by its contact.

To Miss Helstone's little light hand, however, she yielded, and seemed soothed.


In a few minutes she ceased to tremble, and grew quiet and tranquil.


Her usual manner being resumed, she proceeded to talk of ordinary topics.

Her usual manner being resumed, she began to talk of ordinary topics.


In a miscellaneous company Mrs. Pryor rarely opened her lips, or, if obliged to speak, she spoke under restraint, and consequently not well; in dialogue she was a good converser.


Her language, always a little formal, was well chosen; her sentiments were just; her information was varied and correct.


Caroline felt it pleasant to listen to her, more pleasant than she could have anticipated.

Caroline felt it more pleasant to listen to her than she could have anticipated.


On the wall opposite the sofa where they sat hung three pictures--the centre one, above the mantelpiece, that of a lady; the two others, male portraits.

On the wall opposite them hung three pictures - the centre one, that of a lady; the two others, male portraits.


"That is a beautiful face," said Mrs. Pryor, interrupting a brief pause which had followed half an hour's animated conversation.

"That is a beautiful face," said Mrs. Pryor, after a brief pause.


"The features may be termed perfect; no statuary's chisel could improve them.


"It is a portrait from the life, I presume?"


"It is, and is said to be a good likeness.


Before her marriage she was accounted the beauty of the district."

Before her marriage she was thought the beauty of the district."


"I should say she merited the distinction.


The original could not have been what is generally termed 'a woman of spirit.'"

She could not have been what is generally termed 'a woman of spirit.'"


"I believe she was a remarkably still, silent person."

"I believe she was a remarkably still, silent person," said Caroline.


"One would scarcely have expected, my dear, that your uncle's choice should have fallen on a partner of that description.

"One would scarcely have expected, my dear, that your uncle should have chosen a partner of that description.


Is he not fond of being amused by lively chat?"


But he always says he could never do with a talking wife.


You go out to gossip, he affirms; you come home to read and reflect."


"Mrs. Matthewson lived but a few years after her marriage, I think I have heard?"

"Mrs. Matthewson lived only a few years after her marriage, I believe?"


"Well, my dear," pursued Mrs. Pryor, rising to go, "I trust it is understood that you will frequently come to Fieldhead.

"Well, my dear," pursued Mrs. Pryor, rising to go, "I hope you will frequently come to Fieldhead.


You must feel lonely here, having no female relative in the house; you must necessarily pass much of your time in solitude."

You must feel lonely here, having no female relative in the house; you must pass much of your time alone."


"Should you chance to require help in your studies," she said, "you may command me."

"Should you require help in your studies," she said, "you may command me.


Caroline expressed her sense of such kindness.


"I hope to have frequent conversations with you.


Again Miss Helstone returned thanks. She thought what a kind heart was hidden under her visitor's seeming chilliness.

Miss Helstone thanked her, thinking what a kind heart was hidden under her visitor's seeming chilliness.


Observing that Mrs. Pryor again glanced with an air of interest towards the portraits, as she walked down the room, Caroline casually explained: "The likeness that hangs near the window, you will see, is my uncle, taken twenty years ago; the other, to the left of the mantelpiece, is his brother James, my father."

Observing that Mrs. Pryor again glanced at the portraits, Caroline explained:
"The likeness that hangs near the window, you will see, is my uncle, taken twenty years ago; the other is his brother James, my father."


"They resemble each other in some measure," said Mrs. Pryor; "yet a difference of character may be traced in the different mould of the brow and mouth."

"They resemble each other," said Mrs. Pryor; "yet a difference of character may be traced in the brow and mouth."


inquired Caroline, accompanying her to the door.


"James Helstone--that is, my father--is generally considered the best-looking of the two.

"James Helstone - my father - is generally considered by strangers to be the better-looking of the two.


Strangers, I remark, always exclaim, 'What a handsome man!'


Do you think his picture handsome, Mrs. Pryor?"


"It is much softer or finer featured than that of your uncle."

"It is much finer featured than that of your uncle."


"But where or what is the difference of character to which you alluded?

"But what is the difference of character you mean?


"My dear, your uncle is a man of principle.


His forehead and his lips are firm, and his eye is steady."


Adhere to that preference--never swerve thence.


The other, my dear, if he had been living now, would probably have furnished little support to his daughter.

The other, my dear, if he had been living now, would probably have given little support to his daughter.


It is, however, a graceful head--taken in youth, I should think.


My dear" (turning abruptly), "you acknowledge an inestimable value in principle?"

My dear" (turning abruptly), "you believe in the importance of principle?"


"I am sure no character can have true worth without it."


Circumstances early forced it upon my attention."


"The lesson was not lost, then, though it came so prematurely.


I suppose the soil is not light nor stony, otherwise seed falling in that season never would have borne fruit.


My dear, do not stand in the air of the door; you will take cold.

My dear, do not stand in the draught; you will take cold.


Miss Helstone's new acquaintance soon became of value to her: their society was acknowledged a privilege. She found she would have been in error indeed to have let slip this chance of relief, to have neglected to avail herself of this happy change.

Miss Helstone's new acquaintances soon became of value to her: their society was, she felt, a privilege and a chance of relief.


A turn was thereby given to her thoughts; a new channel was opened for them, which, diverting a few of them at least from the one direction in which all had hitherto tended, abated the impetuosity of their rush, and lessened the force of their pressure on one worn-down point.

A new turn was given to her thoughts, lessening the force of their pressure on one worn-down point.


Soon she was content to spend whole days at Fieldhead, doing by turns whatever Shirley or Mrs. Pryor wished her to do; and now one would claim her, now the other.

Soon she was content to spend whole days at Fieldhead, doing by turns whatever Shirley or Mrs. Pryor wished; now one would claim her, now the other.


Nothing could be less demonstrative than the friendship of the elder lady, but also nothing could be more vigilant, assiduous, untiring.

The elder lady was not demonstrative, but she was assiduous.


I have intimated that she was a peculiar personage, and in nothing was her peculiarity more shown than in the nature of the interest she evinced for Caroline.

I have hinted that she was a peculiar person, and this was evident in the interest she showed in Caroline.


She watched all her movements; she seemed as if she would have guarded all her steps.

She watched all her movements; it seemed as if she wished to guard her steps.


It gave her pleasure to be applied to by Miss Helstone for advice and assistance.

It gave her pleasure to be asked by Miss Helstone for advice.


She yielded her aid, when asked, with such quiet yet obvious enjoyment that Caroline ere long took delight in depending on her.

She gave her aid with such quiet enjoyment that Caroline before long took delight in depending on her.


Shirley Keeldar's complete docility with Mrs. Pryor had at first surprised Miss Helstone, and not less the fact of the reserved ex-governess being so much at home and at ease in the residence of her young pupil, where she filled with such quiet independency a very dependent post; but she soon found that it needed but to know both ladies to comprehend fully the enigma. Every one, it seemed to her, must like, must love, must prize Mrs. Pryor when they knew her.

Shirley Keeldar's complete docility with Mrs. Pryor had at first surprised Caroline, as did the fact of the reserved ex-governess being so much at ease in the house of her young pupil; but she soon found everyone must prize Mrs. Pryor when they knew her.


No matter that she perseveringly wore old-fashioned gowns; that her speech was formal and her manner cool; that she had twenty little ways such as nobody else had: she was still such a stay, such a counsellor, so truthful, so kind in her way, that, in Caroline's idea, none once accustomed to her presence could easily afford to dispense with it.

Despite her old-fashioned gowns and formal speech, she was a kind and truthful counsellor.


As to dependency or humiliation, Caroline did not feel it in her intercourse with Shirley, and why should Mrs. Pryor?

As to dependency or inferiority - Caroline did not feel it in talking to Shirley, so why would Mrs. Pryor?


The heiress was rich--very rich--compared with her new friend: one possessed a clear thousand a year, the other not a penny; and yet there was a safe sense of equality experienced in her society, never known in that of the ordinary Briarfield and Whinbury gentry.

Shirley was rich: she possessed a thousand a year, and Caroline not a penny; and yet there was a safe sense of equality when with her, never known with the ordinary Briarfield gentry.


The reason was, Shirley's head ran on other things than money and position.

The reason was that Shirley's head ran on other things than money and position.


She was glad to be independent as to property; by fits she was even elated at the notion of being lady of the manor, and having tenants and an estate.

She was glad to be independent; at times she was even elated at the notion of being lady of the manor, and having tenants and an estate.


She was especially tickled with an agreeable complacency when reminded of "all that property" down in the Hollow, "comprising an excellent cloth-mill, dyehouse, warehouse, together with the messuage, gardens, and outbuildings, termed Hollow's Cottage;" but her exultation being quite undisguised was singularly inoffensive; and, for her serious thoughts, they tended elsewhere.

She was especially tickled when reminded of "all that property" down in the Hollow - the mills, gardens and cottage; but her serious thoughts tended elsewhere.


To admire the great, reverence the good, and be joyous with the genial, was very much the bent of Shirley's soul: she mused, therefore, on the means of following this bent far oftener than she pondered on her social superiority.

To admire the great, reverence the good, and be joyous with the genial, was very much Shirley's way, rather than thinking of her social superiority.


In Caroline Miss Keeldar had first taken an interest because she was quiet, retiring, looked delicate, and seemed as if she needed some one to take care of her.

Miss Keeldar had first taken an interest in Caroline because she was quiet, and looked delicate and in need of care.


Her predilection increased greatly when she discovered that her own way of thinking and talking was understood and responded to by this new acquaintance.

Her liking increased greatly when she discovered that Caroline understood and responded to her own way of thinking and talking.


Miss Helstone, she fancied, had too pretty a face, manners and voice too soft, to be anything out of the common way in mind and attainments; and she very much wondered to see the gentle features light up archly to the reveille of a dry sally or two risked by herself; and more did she wonder to discover the self-won knowledge treasured, and the untaught speculations working in that girlish, curl-veiled head.

Miss Helstone, she fancied, looked too pretty and soft to be anything out of the common way; and she wondered at the self-won knowledge and speculations working in that girlish head.


Caroline's instinct of taste, too, was like her own.

Caroline's taste, too, was like her own.


Such books as Miss Keeldar had read with the most pleasure were Miss Helstone's delight also. They held many aversions too in common, and could have the comfort of laughing together over works of false sentimentality and pompous pretension.

They delighted in the same books, and could have the comfort of laughing together over works of false sentimentality and pompous pretension.


Few, Shirley conceived, men or women have the right taste in poetry, the right sense for discriminating between what is real and what is false.


She had again and again heard very clever people pronounce this or that passage, in this or that versifier, altogether admirable, which, when she read, her soul refused to acknowledge as anything but cant, flourish, and tinsel, or at the best elaborate wordiness, curious, clever, learned, perhaps, haply even tinged with the fascinating hues of fancy, but, God knows, as different from real poetry as the gorgeous and massy vase of mosaic is from the little cup of pure metal; or, to give the reader a choice of similes, as the milliner's artificial wreath is from the fresh-gathered lily of the field.


Caroline, she found, felt the value of the true ore, and knew the deception of the flashy dross.

Caroline, she found, could tell the true from the false.


The minds of the two girls being toned in harmony often chimed very sweetly together.

The minds of the two girls often chimed sweetly in harmony.


One evening they chanced to be alone in the oak-parlour.


They had passed a long wet day together without _ennui_.

They had passed a long wet day together without tedium.


It was now on the edge of dark; candles were not yet brought in; both, as twilight deepened, grew meditative and silent.

It was now almost dark; candles were not yet brought in; both were meditative and silent.


A western wind roared high round the hall, driving wild clouds and stormy rain up from the far-remote ocean; all was tempest outside the antique lattices, all deep peace within.

A western wind roared high round the hall, driving wild clouds and stormy rain; all was tempest outside, all deep peace within.


Shirley sat at the window, watching the rack in heaven, the mist on earth, listening to certain notes of the gale that plained like restless spirits--notes which, had she not been so young, gay, and healthy, would have swept her trembling nerves like some omen, some anticipatory dirge. In this her prime of existence and bloom of beauty they but subdued vivacity to pensiveness.

Shirley sat at the window, listening to the restless complaints of the gale, which made her pensive.


Snatches of sweet ballads haunted her ear; now and then she sang a stanza. Her accents obeyed the fitful impulse of the wind; they swelled as its gusts rushed on, and died as they wandered away.

Snatches of sweet ballads haunted her ear; now and then she sang a stanza, obeying the fitful impulse of the wind.


Caroline, withdrawn to the farthest and darkest end of the room, her figure just discernible by the ruby shine of the flameless fire, was pacing to and fro, muttering to herself fragments of well-remembered poetry.

Caroline, at the darkest end of the room, was just discernible by the ruby shine of the fire, pacing to and fro, muttering fragments of poetry.


She spoke very low, but Shirley heard her; and while singing softly, she listened.

She spoke very low, but Shirley heard her:


"Obscurest night involved the sky, The Atlantic billows roared, When such a destined wretch as I, Washed headlong from on board, Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home for ever left."

"'Obscurest night involved the sky,
The Atlantic billows roared,
When such a destined wretch as I,
Washed headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.'"


Here the fragment stopped, because Shirley's song, erewhile somewhat full and thrilling, had become delicately faint.


If you can remember it all, say it all."


And as it was nearly dark, and, after all, Miss Keeldar was no formidable auditor, Caroline went through it.


She went through it as she should have gone through it.


The wild sea, the drowning mariner, the reluctant ship swept on in the storm, you heard were realized by her; and more vividly was realized the heart of the poet, who did not weep for "The Castaway," but who, in an hour of tearless anguish, traced a semblance to his own God-abandoned misery in the fate of that man-forsaken sailor, and cried from the depths where he struggled,--

The wild sea, the drowning mariner, the reluctant ship swept on in the storm, were made real by her; and so was the heart of the poet, who wept for his own God-abandoned misery, and cried from the depths:


"No voice divine the storm allayed, No light propitious shone, When, snatched from all effectual aid, We perished--each alone!

"'No voice divine the storm allayed,
No light propitious shone,
When, snatched from all effectual aid,
We perished - each alone!


But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he."

But I beneath a rougher sea,
And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.'


"I hope William Cowper is safe and calm in heaven now," said Caroline.

"I hope William Cowper is safe and calm in heaven now," continued Caroline.


"Do you pity what he suffered on earth?"


He was nearly broken-hearted when he wrote that poem, and it almost breaks one's heart to read it.

"Poor man: he was nearly broken-hearted when he wrote that poem, and it almost breaks one's heart to read it.


But he found relief in writing it--I know he did; and that gift of poetry--the most divine bestowed on man--was, I believe, granted to allay emotions when their strength threatens harm.

But he found relief in writing it - I know he did.


It seems to me, Shirley, that nobody should write poetry to exhibit intellect or attainment.

It seems to me, Shirley, that nobody should write poetry to show off intellect.


Who cares for learning--who cares for fine words in poetry?


And who does not care for feeling--real feeling--however simply, even rudely expressed?"

And who does not care for real feeling?"


"It seems you care for it, at all events; and certainly, in hearing that poem, one discovers that Cowper was under an impulse strong as that of the wind which drove the ship--an impulse which, while it would not suffer him to stop to add ornament to a single stanza, filled him with force to achieve the whole with consummate perfection. You managed to recite it with a steady voice, Caroline.

"It seems you care for it; yet you managed to recite it with a steady voice, Caroline."


"Cowper's hand did not tremble in writing the lines.


Why should my voice falter in repeating them?


Depend on it, Shirley, no tear blistered the manuscript of 'The Castaway.' I hear in it no sob of sorrow, only the cry of despair; but, that cry uttered, I believe the deadly spasm passed from his heart, that he wept abundantly, and was comforted."

I believe that in writing 'The Castaway' the deadly spasm passed from his heart, he wept abundantly, and was comforted."


Stopping short, she remarked ere long, "One could have loved Cowper, if it were only for the sake of having the privilege of comforting him."

Shirley remarked, "One could have loved Cowper, if it were only for the sake of comforting him."


"You never would have loved Cowper," rejoined Caroline promptly.


I know there is a kind of natures in the world--and very noble, elevated natures too--whom love never comes near.

I know there are natures in the world - and very noble natures too - whom love never comes near.


You might have sought Cowper with the intention of loving him, and you would have looked at him, pitied him, and left him, forced away by a sense of the impossible, the incongruous, as the crew were borne from their drowning comrade by 'the furious blast.'"


"And what I say of Cowper, I should say of Rousseau.

"And what I say of Cowper, I say of Rousseau.


He loved passionately; but was his passion ever returned?


And if there were any female Cowpers and Rousseaus, I should assert the same of them."

And if there were any female Cowpers and Rousseaus, I should say the same of them."


Moore never talked to me either about Cowper, or Rousseau, or love."


The voice we hear in solitude told me all I know on these subjects."


"Do you like characters of the Rousseau order, Caroline?"

"Do you like characters of the Rousseau type, Caroline?"


I sympathize intensely with certain qualities they possess. Certain divine sparks in their nature dazzle my eyes, and make my soul glow.

I sympathize intensely with certain dazzling qualities they possess.


They are made of clay and gold. The refuse and the ore make a mass of weakness: taken altogether, I feel them unnatural, unhealthy, repulsive."

But they are made of clay and gold: taken altogether, I feel them unnatural, unhealthy, repulsive."


"I dare say I should be more tolerant of a Rousseau than you would, Cary.


Submissive and contemplative yourself, you like the stern and the practical.


By the way, you must miss that Cousin Robert of yours very much, now that you and he never meet."


"I cannot imagine," pursued Shirley, who had lately got a habit of introducing Moore's name into the conversation, even when it seemed to have no business there--"I cannot imagine but that he was fond of you, since he took so much notice of you, talked to you, and taught you so much."

"I imagine," pursued Shirley, who had lately got a habit of introducing Moore's name into the conversation, even when it seemed to have no business there - "I imagine that he was fond of you, since he took so much notice of you."


"He never was fond of me; he never professed to be fond of me. He took pains to prove that he only just tolerated me."

"He never was fond of me; he took pains to prove he only just tolerated me."


Caroline, determined not to err on the flattering side in estimating her cousin's regard for her, always now habitually thought of it and mentioned it in the most scanty measure.

Caroline now habitually thought of Robert's feelings in this scanty measure.


She had her own reasons for being less sanguine than ever in hopeful views of the future, less indulgent to pleasurable retrospections of the past.

She had her own reasons for being less sanguine than ever about hopeful views of the future.


"Of course, then," observed Miss Keeldar, "you only just tolerated him in return?"


"Shirley, men and women are so different; they are in such a different position. Women have so few things to think about, men so many.

"Shirley, men and women are so different; women have so few things to think about, men so many.


You may have a friendship for a man, while he is almost indifferent to you.


Much of what cheers your life may be dependent on him, while not a feeling or interest of moment in his eyes may have reference to you.


Robert used to be in the habit of going to London, sometimes for a week or a fortnight together.

Robert used to go to London sometimes for a week or a fortnight.


Well, while he was away, I found his absence a void.


There was something wanting; Briarfield was duller.


Of course, I had my usual occupations; still I missed him.


As I sat by myself in the evenings, I used to feel a strange certainty of conviction I cannot describe, that if a magician or a genius had, at that moment, offered me Prince Ali's tube (you remember it in the 'Arabian Nights'?), and if, with its aid, I had been enabled to take a view of Robert--to see where he was, how occupied--I should have learned, in a startling manner, the width of the chasm which gaped between such as he and such as I. I knew that, however my thoughts might adhere to him, his were effectually sundered from me."

As I sat by myself in the evenings, I used to feel a strange conviction that if I could magically see Robert - where he was, how occupied - I should learn the width of the chasm between us."


"Caroline," demanded Miss Keeldar abruptly, "don't you wish you had a profession--a trade?"

"Caroline," demanded Miss Keeldar abruptly, "don't you wish you had a profession?"


As it is, I often wonder what I came into the world for.


I long to have something absorbing and compulsory to fill my head and hands and to occupy my thoughts."

I long to have something absorbing to fill my head and hands and to occupy my thoughts.


"Can labour alone make a human being happy?"
"No; but it can give varieties of pain, and prevent us from breaking our hearts with a single tyrant master-torture.

Labour may not make us happy, but it can prevent us from breaking our hearts with a tyrant pain.


Besides, successful labour has its recompense; a vacant, weary, lonely, hopeless life has none."

Besides, successful labour has its reward."


"But hard labour and learned professions, they say, make women masculine, coarse, unwomanly."

"But labour and professions, they say, make women masculine, coarse, unwomanly."


"And what does it signify whether unmarried and never-to-be-married women are unattractive and inelegant or not?

"And what does it signify if never-to-be-married women are unattractive or not?


Provided only they are decent, decorous, and neat, it is enough.

Provided they are decorous and neat, it is enough.


The utmost which ought to be required of old maids, in the way of appearance, is that they should not absolutely offend men's eyes as they pass them in the street; for the rest, they should be allowed, without too much scorn, to be as absorbed, grave, plain-looking, and plain-dressed as they please."

Old maids should be allowed to be as grave and plain-looking as they please."


"You might be an old maid yourself, Caroline, you speak so earnestly."


I will never marry a Malone or a Sykes; and no one else will ever marry me."


Again the name by which she seemed bewitched was almost the first on her lips.


"Lina--did not Moore call you Lina sometimes?"

"Lina - did not Moore call you Lina sometimes?"


It is sometimes used as the abbreviation of Caroline in his native country."

It is short for Caroline in his native country."


"Well, Lina, do you remember my one day noticing an inequality in your hair--a curl wanting on that right side--and your telling me that it was Robert's fault, as he had once cut therefrom a long lock?"

"Well, Lina, do you remember my one day noticing a curl missing from your hair, and your telling me that it was Robert's fault, as he had once cut off a lock?"


"If he is, and always was, as indifferent to you as you say, why did he steal your hair?"

"If he was as indifferent to you as you say, why did he steal your hair?"


Everything of that sort always was my doing.


He was going from home--to London, as usual; and the night before he went, I had found in his sister's workbox a lock of black hair--a short, round curl.

He was going to London; and the night before he went, I had found in his sister's workbox a short lock of black hair.


Hortense told me it was her brother's, and a keepsake.


He has plenty of hair; on the temples were many such round curls. I thought he could spare me one. I knew I should like to have it, and I asked for it.

He has plenty of hair; I thought he could spare me one curl, so I asked for it.


He said, on condition that he might have his choice of a tress from my head.

He said, on condition that he might have a tress from my head.


So he got one of my long locks of hair, and I got one of his short ones.


I keep his, but I dare say he has lost mine.


It was my doing, and one of those silly deeds it distresses the heart and sets the face on fire to think of; one of those small but sharp recollections that return, lacerating your self-respect like tiny penknives, and forcing from your lips, as you sit alone, sudden, insane-sounding interjections."

It was one of those silly deeds it distresses the heart and sets the face on fire to think of; one of those small but sharp recollections that return, lacerating your self-respect like tiny penknives, and forcing from your lips, as you sit alone, sudden, insane-sounding interjections."


"I _do_ think myself a fool, Shirley, in some respects; I _do_ despise myself.

"I do think myself a fool, Shirley, in some respects.


But I said I would not make you my confessor, for you cannot reciprocate foible for foible; you are not weak.


How steadily you watch me now! Turn aside your clear, strong, she-eagle eye; it is an insult to fix it on me thus."

How steadily you watch me now, like an eagle!"


"What a study of character you are--weak, certainly, but not in the sense you think!--Come in!"

"What a study of character you are. - Come in!"


This was said in answer to a tap at the door.


Miss Keeldar happened to be near it at the moment, Caroline at the other end of the room. She saw a note put into Shirley's hands, and heard the words, "From Mr. Moore, ma'am."

Caroline saw the servant put a note into Shirley's hands, and heard the words, "From Mr. Moore, ma'am."


"A communication on business," said the heiress; but when candles were brought, she neither opened nor read it. The rector's Fanny was presently announced, and the rector's niece went home.

"It is a note on business." But when candles were brought, she neither opened nor read it, before Caroline went home.


While Shirley was talking with Moore, Caroline rejoined Mrs. Pryor upstairs.


She would not say that Miss Keeldar's hastiness had hurt her feelings, but it was evident an inward wound galled her.


To any but a congenial nature she would have seemed insensible to the quiet, tender attentions by which Miss Helstone sought to impart solace; but Caroline knew that, unmoved or slightly moved as she looked, she felt, valued, and was healed by them.

Miss Helstone tried to comfort her, knowing that although Mrs. Pryor looked unmoved by her quiet, tender attentions, she valued them.


"I am deficient in self-confidence and decision," she said at last.

"I am deficient in self-confidence and decision," said Mrs. Pryor.


"I always have been deficient in those qualities.


Yet I think Miss Keeldar should have known my character well enough by this time to be aware that I always feel an even painful solicitude to do right, to act for the best.

Yet I think Miss Keeldar should have known that I always try to do right.


The unusual nature of the demand on my judgment puzzled me, especially following the alarms of the night.


I could not venture to act promptly for another; but I trust no serious harm will result from my lapse of firmness."


A gentle knock was here heard at the door.


"Caroline, come here," said a low voice.


There stood Shirley in the gallery, looking contrite, ashamed, sorry as any repentant child.

There stood Shirley in the gallery, looking contrite as any repentant child.


"I have behaved very shamefully, very ungenerously, very ungratefully to her," said Shirley.

"I have behaved very shamefully, very ungenerously to her," said Shirley.


"How insolent in me to turn on her thus for what, after all, was no fault--only an excess of conscientiousness on her part.

"How insolent in me to turn on her for what, after all, was only conscientiousness on her part.


Tell her so, and ask if she will forgive me."


Caroline discharged the errand with heartfelt pleasure.


Mrs. Pryor rose, came to the door. She did not like scenes; she dreaded them as all timid people do. She said falteringly, "Come in, my dear."

Mrs. Pryor came to the door, and said falteringly, "Come in, my dear."


Shirley did come in with some impetuosity. She threw her arms round her governess, and while she kissed her heartily she said, "You know you _must_ forgive me, Mrs. Pryor.

Shirley came in, and threw her arms round her governess. While she kissed her heartily she said, "You must forgive me, Mrs. Pryor."


I could not get on at all if there was a misunderstanding between you and me."


"I have nothing to forgive," was the reply.


"We will pass it over now, if you please.


The final result of the incident is that it proves more plainly than ever how unequal I am to certain crises."

The incident proves plainly how unequal I am to certain crises."


And that was the painful feeling which _would_ remain on Mrs. Pryor's mind.

And that was the painful feeling which would remain on Mrs. Pryor's mind.


No effort of Shirley's or Caroline's could efface it thence.

No effort of Shirley's or Caroline's could efface it.


She could forgive her offending pupil, not her innocent self.


Miss Keeldar, doomed to be in constant request during the morning, was presently summoned downstairs again.

Miss Keeldar was presently summoned downstairs again.


The rector called first. A lively welcome and livelier reprimand were at his service. He expected both, and, being in high spirits, took them in equally good part.


In the course of his brief visit he quite forgot to ask after his niece; the riot, the rioters, the mill, the magistrates, the heiress, absorbed all his thoughts to the exclusion of family ties.

During his brief visit he quite forgot to ask after his niece; the riot, the mill, the magistrates, the heiress, absorbed all his thoughts.


He alluded to the part himself and curate had taken in the defence of the Hollow.

He alluded to the part he himself and his curate had taken in the defence of the Hollow.


"The vials of pharisaical wrath will be emptied on our heads for our share in this business," he said; "but I defy every calumniator.

"Wrath will fall on our heads for our share in this business," he said; "but I defy every accuser.


I was there only to support the law, to play my part as a man and a Briton; which characters I deem quite compatible with those of the priest and Levite, in their highest sense.

I was there to support the law, to play my part as a man.


Your tenant Moore," he went on, "has won my approbation.


A cooler commander I would not wish to see, nor a more determined.

A cooler, more determined commander I could not wish to see.


Besides, the man has shown sound judgment and good sense--first, in being thoroughly prepared for the event which has taken place; and subsequently, when his well-concerted plans had secured him success, in knowing how to use without abusing his victory.

The man has shown sound judgment and good sense - first, in being thoroughly prepared; and then in knowing how to use without abusing his victory.


Some of the magistrates are now well frightened, and, like all cowards, show a tendency to be cruel.

Some of the magistrates are frightened, and, like all cowards, show a tendency to be cruel.


Moore restrains them with admirable prudence.


He has hitherto been very unpopular in the neighbourhood; but, mark my words, the tide of opinion will now take a turn in his favour.

He has hitherto been very unpopular in the neighbourhood; but, mark my words, the tide of opinion will now turn in his favour."


People will find out that they have not appreciated him, and will hasten to remedy their error; and he, when he perceives the public disposed to acknowledge his merits, will show a more gracious mien than that with which he has hitherto favoured us."


Mr. Helstone was about to add to this speech some half-jesting, half-serious warnings to Miss Keeldar on the subject of her rumoured partiality for her talented tenant, when a ring at the door, announcing another caller, checked his raillery; and as that other caller appeared in the form of a white-haired elderly gentleman, with a rather truculent countenance and disdainful eye--in short, our old acquaintance, and the rector's old enemy, Mr. Yorke--the priest and Levite seized his hat, and with the briefest of adieus to Miss Keeldar and the sternest of nods to her guest took an abrupt leave.

Mr. Helstone was about to add some half-jesting warning to Miss Keeldar about her rumoured partiality for her tenant, when a ring at the door checked him. As the second caller was the rector's old enemy, Mr. Yorke, Mr. Helstone seized his hat, and with a brief adieu took an abrupt leave.


Mr. Yorke was in no mild mood, and in no measured terms did he express his opinion on the transaction of the night.


Moore, the magistrates, the soldiers, the mob leaders, each and all came in for a share of his invectives; but he reserved his strongest epithets--and real racy Yorkshire Doric adjectives they were--for the benefit of the fighting parsons, the "sanguinary, demoniac" rector and curate.

Moore, the magistrates, the soldiers, the mob leaders, all came in for a share of invective; but he reserved his strongest terms - and real racy Yorkshire adjectives they were - for the fighting parsons, the rector and curate.


According to him, the cup of ecclesiastical guilt was now full indeed.


"The church," he said, "was in a bonny pickle now. It was time it came down when parsons took to swaggering amang soldiers, blazing away wi' bullet and gunpowder, taking the lives of far honester men than themselves."

"The church," he said, "is in a bonny pickle, when parsons take to swaggering among soldiers, blazing away wi' bullet and gunpowder."


"What would Moore have done if nobody had helped him?"


"Drunk as he'd brewed, eaten as he'd baked."


"Which means you would have left him by himself to face that mob.


He has plenty of courage, but the greatest amount of gallantry that ever garrisoned one human breast could scarce avail against two hundred."

"He has plenty of courage, but even his gallantry alone could scarce avail against two hundred."


"He had the soldiers, those poor slaves who hire out their own blood and spill other folk's for money."

"He had the soldiers, those poor slaves who hire out their own blood and spill other folks' for money."


"You abuse soldiers almost as much as you abuse clergymen.


All who wear red coats are national refuse in your eyes, and all who wear black are national swindlers.


Mr. Moore, according to you, did wrong to get military aid, and he did still worse to accept of any other aid.


Your way of talking amounts to this: he should have abandoned his mill and his life to the rage of a set of misguided madmen, and Mr. Helstone and every other gentleman in the parish should have looked on, and seen the building razed and its owner slaughtered, and never stirred a finger to save either."

Your way of talking amounts to this: Mr. Moore should have abandoned his mill and his life to the rage of misguided madmen, and Mr. Helstone and every other gentleman should have looked on, and seen the building razed and its owner slaughtered, and never stirred a finger."


"If Moore had behaved to his men from the beginning as a master ought to behave, they never would have entertained their present feelings towards him."

"If Moore had behaved to his men from the beginning as a master ought to behave, they wouldn't have their present feelings towards him."


"Easy for you to talk," exclaimed Miss Keeldar, who was beginning to wax warm in her tenant's cause--"you, whose family have lived at Briarmains for six generations, to whose person the people have been accustomed for fifty years, who know all their ways, prejudices, and preferences--easy, indeed, for _you_ to act so as to avoid offending them.

"Easy for you to talk," exclaimed Miss Keeldar warmly, "you, whose family have lived at Briarmains for six generations, who knows all the people's ways and prejudices - easy, indeed, for you to avoid offending them.


But Mr. Moore came a stranger into the district; he came here poor and friendless, with nothing but his own energies to back him, nothing but his honour, his talent, and his industry to make his way for him.

But Mr. Moore came a stranger into the district, poor and friendless, with nothing but his own energies and talent to back him.


A monstrous crime indeed that, under such circumstances, he could not popularize his naturally grave, quiet manners all at once; could not be jocular, and free, and cordial with a strange peasantry, as you are with your fellow-townsmen!

A monstrous crime indeed that he could not become popular all at once; could not be jocular and free with strangers!


An unpardonable transgression that when he introduced improvements he did not go about the business in quite the most politic way, did not graduate his changes as delicately as a rich capitalist might have done!

Unpardonable that he did not introduce improvements as gradually as a rich capitalist might have done!


For errors of this sort is he to be the victim of mob outrage?

For these errors is he to be the victim of mob outrage?


Is he to be denied even the privilege of defending himself?

Is he to be denied the privilege of defending himself?


Are those who have the hearts of men in their breasts (and Mr. Helstone, say what you will of him, has such a heart) to be reviled like malefactors because they stand by him, because they venture to espouse the cause of one against two hundred?"

Are brave men to be reviled because they stand by him, and support the cause of one against two hundred?"


"Come, come now, be cool," said Mr. Yorke, smiling at the earnestness with which Shirley multiplied her rapid questions.

"Come now, be cool," said Mr. Yorke, smiling at Shirley's earnestness.


Must I listen coolly to downright nonsense--to dangerous nonsense?

Must I listen coolly to dangerous nonsense?


I like you very well, Mr. Yorke, as you know, but I thoroughly dislike some of your principles.

I like you very well, Mr. Yorke, but I thoroughly dislike some of your principles.


All that cant--excuse me, but I repeat the word--all that _cant_ about soldiers and parsons is most offensive in my ears.

All that cant about soldiers and parsons is most offensive in my ears.


All ridiculous, irrational crying up of one class, whether the same be aristocrat or democrat--all howling down of another class, whether clerical or military--all exacting injustice to individuals, whether monarch or mendicant--is really sickening to me; all arraying of ranks against ranks, all party hatreds, all tyrannies disguised as liberties, I reject and wash my hands of.

All irrational crying up of one class, and howling down of another class, is really sickening to me; all arraying of ranks against ranks, all party hatreds, I reject.


_You_ think you are a philanthropist; _you_ think you are an advocate of liberty; but I will tell you this--Mr. Hall, the parson of Nunnely, is a better friend both of man and freedom than Hiram Yorke, the reformer of Briarfield."

You think you are a philanthropist; you think you are an advocate of liberty; but I will tell you this - Mr. Hall is a better friend both of man and freedom than Hiram Yorke."


From a man Mr. Yorke would not have borne this language very patiently, nor would he have endured it from some women; but he accounted Shirley both honest and pretty, and her plain-spoken ire amused him.

From a man Mr. Yorke would not have borne this language patiently, nor would he have endured it from some women; but he thought Shirley both honest and pretty, and her plain-spoken ire amused him.


Besides, he took a secret pleasure in hearing her defend her tenant, for we have already intimated he had Robert Moore's interest very much at heart.

Besides, he took a secret pleasure in hearing her defend her tenant, for he had Robert Moore's interest at heart.


Moreover, if he wished to avenge himself for her severity, he knew the means lay in his power: a word, he believed, would suffice to tame and silence her, to cover her frank forehead with the rosy shadow of shame, and veil the glow of her eye under down-drooped lid and lash.

If he wished to revenge himself for her severity, he knew how: a word, he believed, would tame and silence her, would cover her with the rosy shadow of shame, and make her drop her gaze.


he inquired, as she paused, rather, it appeared, to take breath than because her subject or her zeal was exhausted.


was the answer, the speaker meantime walking fast from wall to wall of the oak parlour--"say?


I have a great deal to say, if I could get it out in lucid order, which I never _can_ do.

I have a great deal to say, if I could get it out in lucid order, which I never can do.


I have to say that your views, and those of most extreme politicians, are such as none but men in an irresponsible position _can_ advocate; that they are purely opposition views, meant only to be talked about, and never intended to be acted on.

I believe your views, and those of most extreme politicians, are purely opposition views, meant only to be talked about, and never intended to be acted on.


Make you Prime Minister of England to-morrow, and you would have to abandon them.


Had you been in Moore's place you could not with honour or sense have acted otherwise than he acted.

Had you been in Moore's place you could not have acted otherwise than he acted.


You abuse Mr. Helstone for everything he does.


Mr. Helstone has his faults; he sometimes does wrong, but oftener right.


Were you ordained vicar of Briarfield, you would find it no easy task to sustain all the active schemes for the benefit of the parish planned and persevered in by your predecessor.

If you were vicar of Briarfield, you would find it no easy task to sustain all the schemes for the benefit of the parish.


I wonder people cannot judge more fairly of each other and themselves.


When I hear Messrs. Malone and Donne chatter about the authority of the church, the dignity and claims of the priesthood, the deference due to them as clergymen; when I hear the outbreaks of their small spite against Dissenters; when I witness their silly, narrow jealousies and assumptions; when their palaver about forms, and traditions, and superstitions is sounding in my ear; when I behold their insolent carriage to the poor, their often base servility to the rich--I think the Establishment is indeed in a poor way, and both she and her sons appear in the utmost need of reformation.

When I hear Messrs. Malone and Donne chatter about the authority of the church and the deference due to them as clergymen; when I hear their spite against Dissenters; when I behold their insolent manner to the poor - I think the Establishment is indeed in a poor way, and needs reforming.


Turning away distressed from minster tower and village spire--ay, as distressed as a churchwarden who feels the exigence of white-wash and has not wherewithal to purchase lime--I recall your senseless sarcasms on the 'fat bishops,' the 'pampered parsons,' 'old mother church,' etc.


I remember your strictures on all who differ from you, your sweeping condemnation of classes and individuals, without the slightest allowance made for circumstances or temptations; and then, Mr. Yorke, doubt clutches my inmost heart as to whether men exist clement, reasonable, and just enough to be entrusted with the task of reform.

I remember your strictures on all who differ from you, your sweeping condemnation of classes and individuals, without the slightest allowance made for circumstance; and then, Mr. Yorke, I doubt whether men exist who are reasonable and just enough to be entrusted with the task of reform.


I don't believe _you_ are of the number."


"You have an ill opinion of me, Miss Shirley.


You never told me so much of your mind before."


But I have sat on Jessy's stool by your chair in the back-parlour at Briarmains, for evenings together, listening excitedly to your talk, half admiring what you said, and half rebelling against it.

But I have sat in the back-parlour at Briarmains for evenings together, listening to your talk, half admiring what you said, and half rebelling against it.


I think you a fine old Yorkshireman, sir.


I am proud to have been born in the same county and parish as yourself.

I am proud to have been born in the same county as yourself.


Truthful, upright, independent you are, as a rock based below seas; but also you are harsh, rude, narrow, and merciless."

Truthful, upright, independent you are; but also you are harsh, rude, narrow, and merciless."


"Not to the poor, lass, nor to the meek of the earth; only to the proud and high-minded."

"Not to the poor, lass; only to the proud and high-minded."


"And what right have you, sir, to make such distinctions?


A prouder, a higher-minded man than yourself does not exist.


You find it easy to speak comfortably to your inferiors; you are too haughty, too ambitious, too jealous to be civil to those above you.


Moore, though juster and more considerate than either you or the rector, is still haughty, stern, and, in a public sense, selfish.

Moore, though juster than either you or the rector, is still haughty and stern.


It is well there are such men as Mr. Hall to be found occasionally--men of large and kind hearts, who can love their whole race, who can forgive others for being richer, more prosperous, or more powerful than they are.

It is well there are such men as Mr. Hall - men of large hearts, who can love their whole race, who can forgive others for being richer or more powerful than they are.


Such men may have less originality, less force of character than you, but they are better friends to mankind."

Such men may have less force of character than you, but they are better friends to mankind."


"Only that of Robert Grard Moore, Esq., of Hollow's Cottage, with Miss Keeldar, daughter and heiress of the late Charles Cave Keeldar of Fieldhead Hall."

"Only that of Robert Grard Moore, Esq., of Hollow's Cottage, with Miss Keeldar, heiress of Fieldhead Hall."


Shirley gazed at the questioner with rising colour.


But the light in her eye was not faltering; it shone steadily--yes, it burned deeply.

But the light in her eye was not faltering; it shone steadily.


"That is your revenge," she said slowly; then added, "Would it be a bad match, unworthy of the late Charles Cave Keeldar's representative?"

"That is your revenge," she said slowly; then added, "Would it be a bad match, unworthy of my family?"


"My lass, Moore is a gentleman; his blood is pure and ancient as mine or thine."


We have family pride, though one of us at least is a republican?"


His lips were mute, but his eye confessed the impeachment.


Yes, he had family pride; you saw it in his whole bearing.


"Moore _is_ a gentleman," echoed Shirley, lifting her head with glad grace.

"Moore is a gentleman," echoed Shirley, lifting her head with glad grace.


She would not give them utterance; but her look spoke much at the moment.

She would not give them utterance; but her look spoke much.


What, Yorke tried to read, but could not.


The language was there, visible, but untranslatable--a poem, a fervid lyric, in an unknown tongue.


It was not a plain story, however, no simple gush of feeling, no ordinary love-confession--that was obvious.

It was not a plain story, however, no simple gush of feeling, no ordinary love-confession - that was obvious.


It was something other, deeper, more intricate than he guessed at.

It was something deeper, more intricate than he guessed at.


He felt his revenge had not struck home.


He felt that Shirley triumphed. She held him at fault, baffled, puzzled.

He felt that Shirley triumphed, and he was baffled.


"And if Moore _is_ a gentleman, you _can_ be only a lady; therefore----"

"And if Moore is a gentleman, you can be only a lady-"


"Therefore there would be no inequality in our union."

"So there would be no inequality in our union."


Will you give me away when I relinquish the name of Keeldar for that of Moore?"


Mr. Yorke, instead of replying, gazed at her much puzzled.


He could not divine what her look signified--whether she spoke in earnest or in jest.

He could not tell whether she spoke in earnest or jest.


There were purpose and feeling, banter and scoff, playing, mingled, on her mobile lineaments.


"I don't understand thee," he said, turning away.


"Take courage, sir; you are not singular in your ignorance.

"Take courage, sir; you are not the only one."


But I suppose if Moore understands me that will do, will it not?"


"Moore may settle his own matters henceforward for me; I'll neither meddle nor make with them further."

"Moore may settle his own matters; I'll not meddle with them further."


With a sudden darkening of the eye and austere fixing of the features she demanded, "Have you been asked to interfere?

With a sudden austere darkening of the eye she demanded, "Have you been asked to interfere?


Are you questioning me as another's proxy?"


Keep all your questions for Robert; I'll answer no more on 'em.

Keep all your questions for Robert; I'll answer no more.


The day being fine, or at least fair--for soft clouds curtained the sun, and a dim but not chill or waterish haze slept blue on the hills--Caroline, while Shirley was engaged with her callers, had persuaded Mrs. Pryor to assume her bonnet and summer shawl, and to take a walk with her up towards the narrow end of the Hollow.

While Shirley was engaged with her callers, Caroline had persuaded Mrs. Pryor to put on her shawl, and take a walk with her up towards the end of the Hollow.


Here the opposing sides of the glen, approaching each other and becoming clothed with brushwood and stunted oaks, formed a wooded ravine, at the bottom of which ran the mill-stream, in broken, unquiet course, struggling with many stones, chafing against rugged banks, fretting with gnarled tree-roots, foaming, gurgling, battling as it went.

Here the opposing sides of the glen, clothed with brushwood and stunted oaks, formed a wooded ravine, at the bottom of which ran the mill-stream, struggling with many stones and tree-roots, foaming, gurgling, battling as it went.


Here, when you had wandered half a mile from the mill, you found a sense of deep solitude--found it in the shade of unmolested trees, received it in the singing of many birds, for which that shade made a home.

Half a mile from the mill, you found deep solitude.


The freshness of the wood flowers attested that foot of man seldom pressed them; the abounding wild roses looked as if they budded, bloomed, and faded under the watch of solitude, as if in a sultan's harem.

The wood flowers were fresh underfoot: wild roses bloomed abundantly.


Here you saw the sweet azure of blue-bells, and recognized in pearl-white blossoms, spangling the grass, a humble type of some starlit spot in space.

The sweet azure of blue-bells and pearl-white blossoms spangled the grass.


She ever shunned high-roads, and sought byways and lonely lanes.

She shunned high-roads, and sought lonely lanes.


One companion she preferred to total solitude, for in solitude she was nervous; a vague fear of annoying encounters broke the enjoyment of quite lonely rambles. But she feared nothing with Caroline.

In solitude she was nervous; but she feared nothing with Caroline.


When once she got away from human habitations, and entered the still demesne of nature accompanied by this one youthful friend, a propitious change seemed to steal over her mind and beam in her countenance.

When once she got away from human habitations, and entered the still demesne of nature with her young friend, a change seemed to come over her.


When with Caroline--and Caroline only--her heart, you would have said, shook off a burden, her brow put aside a veil, her spirits too escaped from a restraint.

When with Caroline, her heart, you would have said, shook off a burden, her brow put aside a veil.


With her she was cheerful; with her, at times, she was tender; to her she would impart her knowledge, reveal glimpses of her experience, give her opportunities for guessing what life she had lived, what cultivation her mind had received, of what calibre was her intelligence, how and where her feelings were vulnerable.

With her she was cheerful, even tender; to her she would reveal glimpses of her experience and learning, give her opportunities for guessing what life she had lived, and where her feelings were vulnerable.


To-day, for instance, as they walked along, Mrs. Pryor talked to her companion about the various birds singing in the trees, discriminated their species, and said something about their habits and peculiarities.

Today, for instance, as they walked along, Mrs. Pryor talked about the various birds singing in the trees, and described their species and habits.


English natural history seemed familiar to her.


All the wild flowers round their path were recognized by her; tiny plants springing near stones and peeping out of chinks in old walls--plants such as Caroline had scarcely noticed before--received a name and an intimation of their properties. It appeared that she had minutely studied the botany of English fields and woods.

She recognised all the wild flowers, even tiny plants peeping out of chinks in old walls - plants such as Caroline had scarcely noticed before.


Having reached the head of the ravine, they sat down together on a ledge of gray and mossy rock jutting from the base of a steep green hill which towered above them.

At the head of the ravine, they sat down together on a ledge of mossy rock.


She looked round her, and spoke of the neighbourhood as she had once before seen it long ago.

Mrs. Pryor looked round, and spoke of the neighbourhood as she had once seen it long ago.


She alluded to its changes, and compared its aspect with that of other parts of England, revealing in quiet, unconscious touches of description a sense of the picturesque, an appreciation of the beautiful or commonplace, a power of comparing the wild with the cultured, the grand with the tame, that gave to her discourse a graphic charm as pleasant as it was unpretending.

She described its changes, comparing it to other parts of England with a sense of the picturesque, and an appreciation of the beautiful and commonplace, that gave her discourse a charm as pleasant as it was unpretending.


The sort of reverent pleasure with which Caroline listened--so sincere, so quiet, yet so evident--stirred the elder lady's faculties to gentle animation.

The sincere pleasure with which Caroline listened animated the elder lady.


Rarely, probably, had she, with her chill, repellent outside, her diffident mien, and incommunicative habits, known what it was to excite in one whom she herself could love feelings of earnest affection and admiring esteem.

With her chill, diffident manner, and incommunicative habits, she had seldom known what it was to stir affection in another.


Delightful, doubtless, was the consciousness that a young girl towards whom it seemed, judging by the moved expression of her eyes and features, her heart turned with almost a fond impulse, looked up to her as an instructor, and clung to her as a friend.

It seemed that her heart was moved with a fond impulse towards Caroline, who looked up to her as an instructor, and clung to her as a friend.


With a somewhat more marked accent of interest than she often permitted herself to use, she said, as she bent towards her youthful companion, and put aside from her forehead a pale brown curl which had strayed from the confining comb, "I do hope this sweet air blowing from the hill will do you good, my dear Caroline.

With more marked interest than usual, she said, as she put aside from Caroline's forehead a straying curl, "I do hope this sweet breeze will do you good, my dear Caroline.


I wish I could see something more of colour in these cheeks; but perhaps you were never florid?"

I wish I could see more colour in these cheeks; but perhaps you were never florid?"


"I had red cheeks once," returned Miss Helstone, smiling.


"I remember a year--two years ago--when I used to look in the glass, I saw a different face there to what I see now--rounder and rosier.

"A year - two years ago - when I used to look in the glass, I saw a rounder, rosier face.


But when we are young," added the girl of eighteen, "our minds are careless and our lives easy."


"Do you," continued Mrs. Pryor, mastering by an effort that tyrant timidity which made it difficult for her, even under present circumstances, to attempt the scrutiny of another's heart--"do you, at your age, fret yourself with cares for the future?

"Do you," continued Mrs. Pryor, mastering her timidity with an effort, "do you fret over cares for the future?


Let the morrow take thought for the things of itself."


The evil of the day is sometimes oppressive--too oppressive--and I long to escape it."

The evil of the day is sometimes oppressive, and I long to escape it."


"That is--the evil of the day--that is--your uncle perhaps is not--you find it difficult to understand--he does not appreciate----"

"The evil of the day - that is - your uncle perhaps is not - he does not appreciate-"


Mrs. Pryor could not complete her broken sentences; she could not manage to put the question whether Mr. Helstone was too harsh with his niece.

Mrs. Pryor could not complete her broken sentences; she could not ask whether Mr. Helstone was too harsh with his niece.


"Oh, that is nothing," she replied. "My uncle and I get on very well.

"Oh, my uncle and I get on very well," she replied.


We never quarrel--I don't call him harsh--he never scolds me.


Sometimes I wish somebody in the world loved me, but I cannot say that I particularly wish him to have more affection for me than he has.

Sometimes I wish somebody in the world loved me, but I cannot say that I particularly wish him to have more affection for me.


As a child, I should perhaps have felt the want of attention, only the servants were very kind to me; but when people are long indifferent to us, we grow indifferent to their indifference.

As a child, I should perhaps have felt the lack of attention, only the servants were very kind to me; but when people are long indifferent to us, we grow indifferent to their indifference.


It is my uncle's way not to care for women and girls, unless they be ladies that he meets in company.

My uncle does not care for women and girls, apart from ladies that he meets in company.


He could not alter, and I have no wish that he should alter, as far as I am concerned.


I believe it would merely annoy and frighten me were he to be affectionate towards me now.

It would merely annoy and frighten me were he to be affectionate towards me now.


But you know, Mrs. Pryor, it is scarcely _living_ to measure time as I do at the rectory.

But you know, Mrs. Pryor, it is scarcely living to measure time as I do at the rectory.


The hours pass, and I get them over somehow, but I do not _live_.

The hours pass, and I get through them somehow, but I do not live.


I endure existence, but I rarely enjoy it.


Since Miss Keeldar and you came I have been--I was going to say happier, but that would be untrue."

Since Miss Keeldar and you came I have been - I was going to say happier, but that would be untrue."


You are fond of Miss Keeldar, are you not, my dear?"


For a reason I cannot explain I want to go away from this place, and to forget it."

For a reason I cannot explain I want to go away from this place."


"You told me before you wished to be a governess; but, my dear, if you remember, I did not encourage the idea.

"You told me before, you wished to be a governess; but, my dear, if you remember, I did not encourage the idea.


I have been a governess myself great part of my life.

I have been a governess myself for much of my life.


In Miss Keeldar's acquaintance I esteem myself most fortunate. Her talents and her really sweet disposition have rendered my office easy to me; but when I was young, before I married, my trials were severe, poignant.

I am most fortunate that Miss Keeldar's talents and her sweet disposition have made my position easy; but when I was young, before I married, my trials were severe.


I should not like a---- I should not like you to endure similar ones.

I should not like you to endure similar trials.


It was my lot to enter a family of considerable pretensions to good birth and mental superiority, and the members of which also believed that 'on them was perceptible' an unusual endowment of the 'Christian graces;' that all their hearts were regenerate, and their spirits in a peculiar state of discipline.

I worked for a family of good birth, whose members believed that they were unusually good Christians; that all their hearts were reborn, and their spirits perfectly disciplined.


I was early given to understand that 'as I was not their equal,' so I could not expect 'to have their sympathy.'

I was early given to understand that 'as I was not their equal,' so I could not expect to have their sympathy.


It was in no sort concealed from me that I was held a 'burden and a restraint in society.'


The gentlemen, I found, regarded me as a 'tabooed woman,' to whom 'they were interdicted from granting the usual privileges of the sex,' and yet 'who annoyed them by frequently crossing their path.'

The gentlemen, I found, regarded me as a 'tabooed woman,' who annoyed them by crossing their path.


The ladies too made it plain that they thought me 'a bore.' The servants, it was signified, 'detested me;' _why_, I could never clearly comprehend.

The ladies made it plain that they thought me 'a bore,' and the servants, I was told, 'detested me;' why, I could never clearly comprehend.


My pupils, I was told, 'however much they might love me, and how deep soever the interest I might take in them, could not be my friends.'

My pupils, I was informed, 'however much they might love me, could not be my friends.'


It was intimated that I must 'live alone, and never transgress the invisible but rigid line which established the difference between me and my employers.'

It was made clear that I must never cross the invisible but rigid line which separated me from my employers.'


My life in this house was sedentary, solitary, constrained, joyless, toilsome.

My life was solitary, joyless, toilsome.


The dreadful crushing of the animal spirits, the ever-prevailing sense of friendlessness and homelessness consequent on this state of things began ere long to produce mortal effects on my constitution.

The sense of friendlessness and homelessness it caused began to affect my health.


The lady of the house told me coolly I was the victim of 'wounded vanity.'

The lady of the house told me coolly I was the victim of wounded vanity.


She hinted that if I did not make an effort to quell my 'ungodly discontent,' to cease 'murmuring against God's appointment,' and to cultivate the profound humility befitting my station, my mind would very likely 'go to pieces' on the rock that wrecked most of my sisterhood--morbid self-esteem--and that I should die an inmate of a lunatic asylum.

She hinted that if I did not make an effort to quell my 'ungodly discontent,' and to cultivate the humility befitting my station, I would very likely 'go to pieces', and die an inmate of a lunatic asylum.


"I said nothing to Mrs. Hardman--it would have been useless; but to her eldest daughter I one day dropped a few observations, which were answered thus. There were hardships, she allowed, in the position of a governess. 'Doubtless they had their trials; but,' she averred, with a manner it makes me smile now to recall--'but it must be so. _She_' (Miss H.) 'had neither view, hope, nor _wish_ to see these things remedied; for in the inherent constitution of English habits, feelings, and prejudices there was no possibility that they should be. Governesses,' she observed, 'must ever be kept in a sort of isolation. It is the only means of maintaining that distance which the reserve of English manners and the decorum of English families exact.'
"I remember I sighed as Miss Hardman quitted my bedside.

"I said nothing to Mrs. Hardman - it would have been useless; but her eldest daughter, visiting my bedside, allowed that there were hardships in the position of a governess. However, these things, she said, were as they must be. 'Governesses,' she observed, 'must ever be kept in isolation, to maintain that distance which decorum requires.'
"I remember I sighed.


She caught the sound, and turning, said severely, 'I fear, Miss Grey, you have inherited in fullest measure the worst sin of our fallen nature--the sin of pride. You are proud, and therefore you are ungrateful too.

Miss Hardman said severely, 'I fear, Miss Grey, you have inherited the sin of pride, and are ungrateful too.


Mamma pays you a handsome salary, and if you had average sense you would thankfully put up with much that is fatiguing to do and irksome to bear, since it is so well made worth your while.'

Mamma pays you a handsome salary, and if you had sense you would thankfully put up with much that is fatiguing and irksome, since it is made well worth your while.'


"Miss Hardman, my love, was a very strong-minded young lady, of most distinguished talents.


The aristocracy are decidedly a very superior class, you know, both physically, and morally, and mentally; as a high Tory I acknowledge that.

The aristocracy are decidedly a very superior class, you know; as a high Tory I acknowledge that.


I could not describe the dignity of her voice and mien as she addressed me thus; still, I fear she was selfish, my dear. I would never wish to speak ill of my superiors in rank, but I think she was a little selfish."

She was most dignified as she addressed me thus; still, I fear she was a little selfish, my dear.


"I remember," continued Mrs. Pryor, after a pause, "another of Miss H.'s observations, which she would utter with quite a grand air.


'WE,' she would say--'WE need the imprudences, extravagances, mistakes, and crimes of a certain number of fathers to sow the seed from which WE reap the harvest of governesses.

She would say: 'We need the imprudences, mistakes, and crimes of a certain number of fathers to sow the seed from which we reap the harvest of governesses.


The daughters of trades-people, however well educated, must necessarily be underbred, and as such unfit to be inmates of OUR dwellings, or guardians of OUR children's minds and persons.

The daughters of trades-people, however well educated, must necessarily be underbred, and unfit to be guardians of our children.


WE shall ever prefer to place those about OUR offspring who have been born and bred with somewhat of the same refinement as OURSELVES.'"

We shall ever prefer to place about our offspring those who have been born and bred with somewhat of the same refinement as ourselves.'"


"Miss Hardman must have thought herself something better than her fellow-creatures, ma'am, since she held that their calamities, and even crimes, were necessary to minister to her convenience.

"Miss Hardman must have thought herself something better than her fellow-creatures, ma'am," said Caroline, "since she held that their calamities, and even crimes, were necessary to minister to her convenience.


Her religion must have been that of the Pharisee who thanked God that he was not as other men are, nor even as that publican."

Her religion must have been that of the Pharisee who thanked God that he was not as other men are."


"My dear, we will not discuss the point.


I should be the last person to wish to instil into your mind any feeling of dissatisfaction with your lot in life, or any sentiment of envy or insubordination towards your superiors.

I should be the last person to wish to make you dissatisfied with your lot in life.


Implicit submission to authorities, scrupulous deference to our betters (under which term I, of course, include the higher classes of society), are, in my opinion, indispensable to the well-being of every community.

Submission to authorities, scrupulous deference to our betters are, in my opinion, indispensable to the well-being of every community.


All I mean to say, my dear, is that you had better not attempt to be a governess, as the duties of the position would be too severe for your constitution.

All I mean to say, my dear, is that you had better not attempt to be a governess, as the duties would be too severe for you.


Not one word of disrespect would I breathe towards either Mrs. or Miss Hardman; only, recalling my own experience, I cannot but feel that, were you to fall under auspices such as theirs, you would contend a while courageously with your doom, then you would pine and grow too weak for your work; you would come home--if you still had a home--broken down.

Not one word of disrespect would I breathe towards the Hardmans; only I feel that, were you to live with such a family, you would contend a while courageously, then you would pine and grow too weak for your work; you would come home - if you still had a home - broken down.


Those languishing years would follow of which none but the invalid and her immediate friends feel the heart-sickness and know the burden.


Consumption or decline would close the chapter.


My dear, we will now walk about a little, if you please."


They both rose, and slowly paced a green natural terrace bordering the chasm.

They both rose, and paced a green terrace bordering the chasm.


"My dear," ere long again began Mrs. Pryor, a sort of timid, embarrassed abruptness marking her manner as she spoke, "the young, especially those to whom nature has been favourable, often--frequently--anticipate--look forward to--to marriage as the end, the goal of their hopes."

"My dear," again began Mrs. Pryor, with a timid, embarrassed abruptness, "the young often - frequently - anticipate - look forward to - to marriage as the goal of their hopes."


Caroline came to her relief with promptitude, showing a great deal more self-possession and courage than herself on the formidable topic now broached.

Caroline came promptly to her relief with self-possession and courage.


"They do, and naturally," she replied, with a calm emphasis that startled Mrs. Pryor.

"They do, and naturally," she replied with calmness.


"They look forward to marriage with some one they love as the brightest, the only bright destiny that can await them.

"They look forward to marriage with someone they love as the brightest destiny that can await them.


exclaimed Mrs. Pryor, clasping her hands; and again she paused.


Caroline turned a searching, an eager eye on the face of her friend: that face was much agitated.

Caroline turned a searching eye on her agitated face.


"My dear," she murmured, "life is an illusion."


Love is real--the most real, the most lasting, the sweetest and yet the bitterest thing we know."

"Love is the most real, the most lasting, the sweetest and yet the bitterest thing we know."


It is said to be strong--strong as death!

It is said to be strong - strong as death!


Most of the cheats of existence are strong.


As to their sweetness, nothing is so transitory; its date is a moment, the twinkling of an eye. The sting remains for ever.

As to the sweetness, nothing is so fleeting; but its sting remains for ever.


It may perish with the dawn of eternity, but it tortures through time into its deepest night."

It tortures through time into its deepest night."


"Yes, it tortures through time," agreed Caroline, "except when it is mutual love."


My dear, romantic novels are pernicious.


"Sometimes--whenever I can get them, indeed.

"Sometimes - whenever I can get them, indeed.


But romance-writers might know nothing of love, judging by the way in which they treat of it."


"Nothing whatever, my dear," assented Mrs. Pryor eagerly, "nor of marriage; and the false pictures they give of those subjects cannot be too strongly condemned.


They show you only the green, tempting surface of the marsh, and give not one faithful or truthful hint of the slough underneath."

They show you only the green, tempting surface of the marsh, and give not one truthful hint of the slough underneath."


"But it is not always slough," objected Caroline.


Where affection is reciprocal and sincere, and minds are harmonious, marriage _must_ be happy."

Where affection is shared and sincere, and minds are harmonious, marriage must be happy."


Two people can never literally be as one.


There is, perhaps, a possibility of content under peculiar circumstances, such as are seldom combined; but it is as well not to run the risk--you may make fatal mistakes. Be satisfied, my dear.

There is, perhaps, a possibility of contentment under some rare circumstances; but it is as well not to risk it, my dear.


Let all the single be satisfied with their freedom."

Let the single be satisfied with their freedom."


exclaimed Caroline, in a tone of dismay.


"You speak like Mrs. Yorke in her most gloomy moments, like Miss Mann when she is most sourly and hypochondriacally disposed.

"You speak like Mrs. Yorke in her gloomy moments, like Miss Mann at her most sour.


O child, you have only lived the pleasant morning time of life; the hot, weary noon, the sad evening, the sunless night, are yet to come for you.

O child, you have only lived the pleasant morning of life; the hot, weary noon, the sad evening, the sunless night, are yet to come for you.


Mr. Helstone, you say, talks as I talk; and I wonder how Mrs. Matthewson Helstone would have talked had she been living.

Mr. Helstone, you say, talks as I talk; and I wonder how his wife would have talked had she been living!"


my own mother and father----" exclaimed Caroline, struck by a sombre recollection.

my own mother and father-" exclaimed Caroline.


"Did I never tell you that they were separated?"
"I have heard it."

"I have heard that they were separated."


"They must, then, have been very miserable."


"You see all _facts_ go to prove what I say."

"You see all facts go to prove what I say."


"In this case there ought to be no such thing as marriage."


"There ought, my dear, were it only to prove that this life is a mere state of probation, wherein neither rest nor recompense is to be vouchsafed."

"There ought, my dear, if only to prove that in this life there is neither rest nor recompense."


Mrs. Pryor shrank and shuddered as if a rude finger had pressed a naked nerve.

Mrs. Pryor shrank and shuddered as if she had pressed a naked nerve.


Caroline felt she had touched what would not bear the slightest contact.


"My marriage was unhappy," said the lady, summoning courage at last; "but yet----" She hesitated.

"My marriage was unhappy," said she, summoning courage at last; "but yet-" She hesitated.


"But yet," suggested Caroline, "not immitigably wretched?"

"But yet," suggested Caroline, "not entirely wretched?"


No," she added, in a softer tone; "God mingles something of the balm of mercy even in vials of the most corrosive woe.

No," she added, in a softer tone; "God mingles the balm of mercy with the most corrosive woe.


He can so turn events that from the very same blind, rash act whence sprang the curse of half our life may flow the blessing of the remainder.


Then I am of a peculiar disposition--I own that--far from facile, without address, in some points eccentric.

I confess I am of a peculiar disposition - in some points eccentric.


Mine is not the nature easily to find a duplicate or likely to assimilate with a contrast.


I was quite aware of my own ineligibility; and if I had not been so miserable as a governess, I never should have married; and then----"
Caroline's eyes asked her to proceed. They entreated her to break the thick cloud of despair which her previous words had seemed to spread over life.
"And then, my dear, Mr.--that is, the gentleman I married--was, perhaps, rather an exceptional than an average character.

I was quite aware of it; and if I had not been so miserable as a governess, I never should have married; and then - and then, my dear, the gentleman I married was, perhaps, an exceptional character.


I hope, at least, the experience of few has been such as mine was, or that few have felt their sufferings as I felt mine.

I hope, at least, that few have had such an experience as mine was, or have felt my sufferings.


They nearly shook my mind; relief was so hopeless, redress so unattainable.


But, my dear, I do not wish to dishearten; I only wish to warn you, and to prove that the single should not be too anxious to change their state, as they may change for the worse."

But, my dear, I do not wish to dishearten; I only wish to warn you that the single should not be too anxious to change their state, as they may change for the worse."


I quite understand your kind intentions, but there is no fear of my falling into the error to which you allude. I, at least, have no thoughts of marriage, and for that reason I want to make myself a position by some other means."

I quite understand your kind intentions, but I have no thoughts of marriage, and for that reason I want to support myself by some other means."


On what I am going to say I have carefully deliberated, having, indeed, revolved the subject in my thoughts ever since you first mentioned your wish to obtain a situation.

I have revolved this subject in my thoughts ever since you first mentioned your wish to obtain a situation.


You know I at present reside with Miss Keeldar in the capacity of companion.

You know I reside with Miss Keeldar as her companion.


Should she marry (and that she _will_ marry ere long many circumstances induce me to conclude), I shall cease to be necessary to her in that capacity.

Should she marry (and I believe that she will before long), I shall cease to be necessary to her in that capacity.


I must tell you that I possess a small independency, arising partly from my own savings, and partly from a legacy left me some years since.


Whenever I leave Fieldhead I shall take a house of my own.

When I leave Fieldhead I shall take a house of my own.


I could not endure to live in solitude. I have no relations whom I care to invite to close intimacy; for, as you must have observed, and as I have already avowed, my habits and tastes have their peculiarities.

I could not endure to live in solitude, but I have no relations whom I care to invite to close intimacy. As you must have observed, my habits and tastes have their peculiarities.


To you, my dear, I need not say I am attached; with you I am happier than I have ever been with any living thing" (this was said with marked emphasis).

But with you, my dear, I am happier than I have ever been with any living thing.


"Your society I should esteem a very dear privilege--an inestimable privilege, a comfort, a blessing.

I should esteem it a great privilege - a comfort, a blessing - if you would come to me then.


You shall come to me, then. Caroline, do you refuse me?


And with these two abrupt questions she stopped.


"Indeed, I _do_ love you," was the reply.


"All I have," went on Mrs. Pryor, "I would leave to you.


"But, my dear madam--this generosity--I have no claim----"

"But, my dear madam - this generosity - I have no claim-"


There are some things we cannot bear to hear.


it is late to begin, but I may yet live a few years.


I can never wipe out the past, but perhaps a brief space in the future may yet be mine."


Large tears trembled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.


Caroline kissed her, in her gentle, caressing way, saying softly, "I love you dearly.

Caroline kissed her gently, saying, "I love you dearly.


But the lady's whole frame seemed shaken.


She sat down, bent her head to her knee, and wept aloud. Nothing could console her till the inward storm had had its way. At last the agony subsided of itself.

She sat down, bent her head and wept, until at last the agony subsided.


she murmured, returning Caroline's kiss, "poor lonely lamb!

she murmured, returning Caroline's kiss.


But come," she added abruptly--"come; we must go home."


For a short distance Mrs. Pryor walked very fast.


By degrees, however, she calmed down to her wonted manner, fell into her usual characteristic pace--a peculiar one, like all her movements--and by the time they reached Fieldhead she had re-entered into herself. The outside was, as usual, still and shy.

By degrees, however, she grew calm and fell into her normal pace; and by the time they reached Fieldhead she had re-entered into herself, and was, as usual, still and shy.


One fine summer day that Caroline had spent entirely alone (her uncle being at Whinbury), and whose long, bright, noiseless, breezeless, cloudless hours (how many they seemed since sunrise!) had been to her as desolate as if they had gone over her head in the shadowless and trackless wastes of Sahara, instead of in the blooming garden of an English home, she was sitting in the alcove--her task of work on her knee, her fingers assiduously plying the needle, her eyes following and regulating their movements, her brain working restlessly--when Fanny came to the door, looked round over the lawn and borders, and not seeing her whom she sought, called out, "Miss Caroline!"

One fine summer day that Caroline had spent entirely alone (her uncle being at Whinbury), and whose long, bright, cloudless hours had been to her as desolate as if they had been spent in the shadowless wastes of the Sahara, she was sitting in the alcove, sewing, her brain working restlessly - when Fanny came to the door and called, "Miss Caroline!"


A low voice answered "Fanny!" It issued from the alcove, and thither Fanny hastened, a note in her hand, which she delivered to fingers that hardly seemed to have nerve to hold it.

When she answered, Fanny hastened over, a note in her hand.


Miss Helstone did not ask whence it came, and she did not look at it; she let it drop amongst the folds of her work.

Miss Helstone did not ask whence it came, and she did not even look at it; she let it drop amongst the folds of her work.


"Joe Scott's son, Harry, brought it," said Fanny.

"Joe Scott's son brought it from the Hollow," said Fanny.


The girl was no enchantress, and knew no magic spell; yet what she said took almost magical effect on her young mistress.

This had an almost magical effect on her young mistress.


She lifted her head with the quick motion of revived sensation; she shot, not a languid, but a lifelike, questioning glance at Fanny.


The dropped note was snatched up eagerly, the seal was broken--it was read in two seconds.

The dropped note was snatched up eagerly, the seal was broken - it was read in two seconds.


An affectionate billet from Hortense, informing her young cousin that she was returned from Wormwood Wells; that she was alone to-day, as Robert was gone to Whinbury market; that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to have Caroline's company to tea, and the good lady added, she was quite sure such a change would be most acceptable and beneficial to Caroline, who must be sadly at a loss both for safe guidance and improving society since the misunderstanding between Robert and Mr. Helstone had occasioned a separation from her "meilleure amie, Hortense Grard Moore."

It was an affectionate note from Hortense, informing her young cousin that she was returned from Wormwood Wells; that she was alone today, as Robert was gone to Whinbury market; that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to have Caroline's company for tea. The good lady added, she was sure such a change would be most beneficial to Caroline, who must be sadly at a loss for improving society since the separation from her dear friend, Hortense Grard Moore.


In a postscript she was urged to put on her bonnet and run down directly.


Glad was she to lay by the brown holland child's slip she was trimming with braid for the Jew's basket, to hasten upstairs, cover her curls with her straw bonnet, and throw round her shoulders the black silk scarf, whose simple drapery suited as well her shape as its dark hue set off the purity of her dress and the fairness of her face; glad was she to escape for a few hours the solitude, the sadness, the nightmare of her life; glad to run down the green lane sloping to the Hollow, to scent the fragrance of hedge flowers sweeter than the perfume of moss-rose or lily.

Glad was Caroline to lay aside her sewing, to cover her curls with her straw bonnet, and throw round her shoulders the black silk scarf; glad was she to escape for a few hours the solitude, the sadness, the nightmare of her life; glad to run down the fragrant green lane to the Hollow.


True, she knew Robert was not at the cottage; but it was delight to go where he had lately been. So long, so totally separated from him, merely to see his home, to enter the room where he had that morning sat, felt like a reunion.

True, she knew Robert was not there; but it was delight to go where he had lately been, to enter the room where he had that morning sat.


As such it revived her; and then Illusion was again following her in Peri mask. The soft agitation of wings caressed her cheek, and the air, breathing from the blue summer sky, bore a voice which whispered, "Robert may come home while you are in his house, and then, at least, you may look in his face--at least you may give him your hand; perhaps, for a minute, you may sit beside him."

And then, her thoughts whispered, "Robert may come home while you are there; you may give him your hand; perhaps, for a minute, you may sit beside him."


was her austere response; but she loved the comforter and the consolation.

was her austere response; but she loved the consolation.


Miss Moore probably caught from the window the gleam and flutter of Caroline's white attire through the branchy garden shrubs, for she advanced from the cottage porch to meet her. Straight, unbending, phlegmatic as usual, she came on.

Miss Moore advanced from the cottage to meet her, straight and unbending as usual.


No haste or ecstasy was ever permitted to disorder the dignity of _her_ movements; but she smiled, well pleased to mark the delight of her pupil, to feel her kiss and the gentle, genial strain of her embrace.

No haste or joy was ever permitted to disorder her dignity; but she smiled, pleased to see the delight of her pupil, to feel her kiss.


She led her tenderly in, half deceived and wholly flattered.


had it not been so she would in all probability have put her to the wicket, and shut her out.


Had she known clearly to whose account the chief share of this childlike joy was to be placed, Hortense would most likely have felt both shocked and incensed.

Had she known on whose account most of this joy was felt, Hortense would have been both shocked and incensed.


Sisters do not like young ladies to fall in love with their brothers.


It seems, if not presumptuous, silly, weak, a delusion, an absurd mistake.


_They_ do not love these gentlemen--whatever sisterly affection they may cherish towards them--and that others should, repels them with a sense of crude romance.


The first movement, in short, excited by such discovery (as with many parents on finding their children to be in love) is one of mixed impatience and contempt.


Reason--if they be rational people--corrects the false feeling in time; but if they be irrational, it is never corrected, and the daughter or sister-in-law is disliked to the end.


"You would expect to find me alone, from what I said in my note," observed Miss Moore, as she conducted Caroline towards the parlour; "but it was written this morning: since dinner, company has come in."

"You would expect to find me alone, from what I said in my note," observed Miss Moore, as she led Caroline towards the parlour; "but since I wrote it, company has come in."


And opening the door she made visible an ample spread of crimson skirts overflowing the elbow-chair at the fireside, and above them, presiding with dignity, a cap more awful than a crown.

And opening the door she made visible an ample spread of crimson skirts overflowing the chair at the fireside, and above them a cap more awful than a crown.


That cap had never come to the cottage under a bonnet; no, it had been brought in a vast bag, or rather a middle-sized balloon of black silk, held wide with whalebone.


The screed, or frill of the cap, stood a quarter of a yard broad round the face of the wearer. The ribbon, flourishing in puffs and bows about the head, was of the sort called love-ribbon. There was a good deal of it, I may say, a very great deal.

The cap's frill stood a quarter of a yard broad round the face of the wearer, with a great deal of ribbon.


Mrs. Yorke wore the cap--it became her; she wore the gown also--it suited her no less.


That great lady was come in a friendly way to take tea with Miss Moore.

That great lady was come to take tea with Miss Moore.


It was almost as great and as rare a favour as if the queen were to go uninvited to share pot-luck with one of her subjects.

It was almost as great and rare a favour as if the queen were to go uninvited to share pot-luck with one of her subjects.


A higher mark of distinction she could not show--she who in general scorned visiting and tea-drinking, and held cheap and stigmatized as "gossips" every maid and matron of the vicinage.

Mrs. Yorke in general scorned visiting and tea-drinking.


There was no mistake, however; Miss Moore _was_ a favourite with her.

However, Miss Moore was a favourite with her.


She had evinced the fact more than once--evinced it by stopping to speak to her in the churchyard on Sundays; by inviting her, almost hospitably, to come to Briarmains; evinced it to-day by the grand condescension of a personal visit.


Her reasons for the preference, as assigned by herself, were that Miss Moore was a woman of steady deportment, without the least levity of conversation or carriage; also that, being a foreigner, she must feel the want of a friend to countenance her.

She had decided that Miss Moore was a woman of steady deportment, without the least levity; also that, being a foreigner, she must feel the want of a friend.


She might have added that her plain aspect, homely, precise dress, and phlegmatic, unattractive manner were to her so many additional recommendations.

She might have added that her plain appearance, homely dress, and phlegmatic manner were additional recommendations.


It is certain, at least, that ladies remarkable for the opposite qualities of beauty, lively bearing, and elegant taste in attire were not often favoured with her approbation.

Certainly ladies of beauty, elegance and lively bearing were not often favoured with her approval.


Whatever gentlemen are apt to admire in women, Mrs. Yorke condemned; and what they overlook or despise, she patronized.


Caroline advanced to the mighty matron with some sense of diffidence.

Caroline advanced diffidently to the mighty matron.


She knew little of Mrs. Yorke, and, as a parson's niece, was doubtful what sort of a reception she might get.


She got a very cool one, and was glad to hide her discomfiture by turning away to take off her bonnet.


Nor, upon sitting down, was she displeased to be immediately accosted by a little personage in a blue frock and sash, who started up like some fairy from the side of the great dame's chair, where she had been sitting on a footstool, screened from view by the folds of the wide red gown, and running to Miss Helstone, unceremoniously threw her arms round her neck and demanded a kiss.

Upon sitting down, she was immediately accosted by a little personage in a blue frock, who started up from the side of the great dame's chair, where she had been sitting on a footstool, screened from view by the wide red gown. Running to Miss Helstone, she threw her arms round her neck and demanded a kiss.


"My mother is not civil to you," said the petitioner, as she received and repaid a smiling salute, "and Rose there takes no notice of you; it is their way.

"My mother is not civil to you," said this personage, "and Rose there takes no notice of you; it is their way.


If, instead of you, a white angel, with a crown of stars, had come into the room, mother would nod stiffly, and Rose never lift her head at all; but I will be your friend--I have always liked you."

If a white angel crowned with stars had come into the room, mother would nod stiffly, and Rose never lift her head; but I will be your friend."


"Jessie, curb that tongue of yours, and repress your forwardness!"


"Miss Helstone has never done you any harm; why can't you be kind to her?


You sit so stiff, and look so cold, and speak so dry--what for? That's just the fashion in which you treat Miss Shirley Keeldar and every other young lady who comes to our house.

You sit so stiff, and look so cold, and speak so dry - that's how you treat every young lady who comes to our house.


And Rose there is such an aut--aut--I have forgotten the word, but it means a machine in the shape of a human being.

And Rose there is such an aut - aut - I have forgotten the word, but it means a machine in the shape of a human being."


However, between you, you will drive every soul away from Briarmains; Martin often says so."


Let me alone, then," said Rose, speaking from a corner where she was sitting on the carpet at the foot of a bookcase, with a volume spread open on her knee.--"Miss Helstone, how do you do?"

Let me alone, then," said Rose, from a corner where she was sitting with a book open on her knee. "Miss Helstone, how do you do?"


she added, directing a brief glance to the person addressed, and then again casting down her gray, remarkable eyes on the book and returning to the study of its pages.

she added, before again casting down her eyes to study the pages.


Caroline stole a quiet gaze towards her, dwelling on her young, absorbed countenance, and observing a certain unconscious movement of the mouth as she read--a movement full of character. Caroline had tact, and she had fine instinct. She felt that Rose Yorke was a peculiar child--one of the unique; she knew how to treat her.

Caroline gazed at her young, absorbed countenance, full of character; with fine instinct, she felt that Rose Yorke was a unique child.