Shirley (44 page)

health. Caroline answered gaily. It would, however, have been her lot to undergo a long cross-examination, followed by an endless lecture on this head, had not Miss Mann called off the attention

of the questioner by requesting to be conducted home. The poor invalid was already fatigued. Her weariness made her cross—too cross almost to speak to Caroline; and besides, that young person's

white dress and lively look were displeasing in the eyes of Miss Mann. The everyday garb of brown

stuff or gray gingham, and the everyday air of melancholy, suited the solitary spinster better; she would hardly know her young friend to-night, and quitted her with a cool nod. Hortense having promised to accompany her home, they departed together.

Caroline now looked round for Shirley. She saw the rainbow scarf and purple dress in the centre of

a throng of ladies, all well known to herself, but all of the order whom she systematically avoided whenever avoidance was possible. Shyer at some moments than at others, she felt just now no courage

at all to join this company. She could not, however, stand alone where all others went in pairs or parties; so she approached a group of her own scholars, great girls, or rather young women, who were standing watching some hundreds of the younger children playing at blind-man's buff.

Miss Helstone knew these girls liked her, yet she was shy even with them out of school. They were

not more in awe of her than she of them. She drew near them now, rather to find protection in their

company than to patronize them with her presence. By some instinct they knew her weakness, and with

natural politeness they respected it. Her knowledge commanded their esteem when she taught them; her gentleness attracted their regard; and because she was what they considered wise and good when

on
duty, they kindly overlooked her evident timidity when off. They did not take advantage of it.

Peasant girls as they were, they had too much of our own English sensibility to be guilty of the coarse

error. They stood round her still, civil, friendly, receiving her slight smiles and rather hurried efforts to converse with a good feeling and good breeding—the last quality being the result of the first—

which soon set her at her ease.

Mr. Sam Wynne coming up with great haste, to insist on the elder girls joining in the game as well

as the younger ones, Caroline was again left alone. She was meditating a quiet retreat to the house, when Shirley, perceiving from afar her isolation, hastened to her side.

"Let us go to the top of the fields," she said. "I know you don't like crowds, Caroline."

"But it will be depriving you of a pleasure, Shirley, to take you from all these fine people, who court your society so assiduously, and to whom you can, without art or effort, make yourself so pleasant."

"Not quite without effort; I am already tired of the exertion. It is but insipid, barren work, talking and laughing with the good gentlefolks of Briarfield. I have been looking out for your white dress for

the last ten minutes. I like to watch those I love in a crowd, and to compare them with others. I have

thus compared you. You resemble none of the rest, Lina. There are some prettier faces than yours here. You are not a model beauty like Harriet Sykes, for instance—beside her your person appears almost insignificant—but you look agreeable, you look reflective, you look what I call interesting."

"Hush, Shirley! you flatter me."

"I don't wonder that your scholars like you."

"Nonsense, Shirley! Talk of something else."

"We will talk of Moore, then, and we will watch him. I see him even now."

"Where?" And as Caroline asked the question she looked not over the fields, but into Miss Keeldar's eyes, as was her wont whenever Shirley mentioned any object she descried afar. Her friend

had quicker vision than herself, and Caroline seemed to think that the secret of her eagle acuteness might be read in her dark gray irides, or rather, perhaps, she only sought guidance by the direction of

those discriminating and brilliant spheres.

"There is Moore," said Shirley, pointing right across the wide field where a thousand children were playing, and now nearly a thousand adult spectators walking about. "There—can you miss the tall stature and straight port? He looks amidst the set that surround him like Eliab amongst humbler shepherds—like Saul in a war-council; and a war-council it is, if I am not mistaken."

"Why so, Shirley?" asked Caroline, whose eye had at last caught the object it sought. "Robert is just now speaking to my uncle, and they are shaking hands. They are then reconciled."

"Reconciled not without good reason, depend on it—making common cause against some common

foe. And why, think you, are Messrs. Wynne and Sykes, and Armitage and Ramsden, gathered in such

a close circle round them? And why is Malone beckoned to join them? Where
he
is summoned, be sure a strong arm is needed."

Shirley, as she watched, grew restless; her eyes flashed.

"They won't trust me," she said. "That is always the way when it comes to the point."

"What about?"

"Cannot you feel? There is some mystery afloat; some event is expected; some preparation is to be

made, I am certain. I saw it all in Mr. Moore's manner this evening. He was excited, yet hard."

"Hard to
you
, Shirley?"

"Yes, to
me
. He often is hard to me. We seldom converse
tête-à-tête
but I am made to feel that the basis of his character is not of eider down."

"Yet he seemed to talk to you softly."

"Did he not? Very gentle tones and quiet manner. Yet the man is peremptory and secret: his secrecy

vexes me."

"Yes, Robert is secret."

"Which he has scarcely a right to be with me, especially as he commenced by giving me his confidence. Having done nothing to forfeit that confidence, it ought not to be withdrawn; but I suppose I am not considered iron-souled enough to be trusted in a crisis."

"He fears, probably, to occasion you uneasiness."

"An unnecessary precaution. I am of elastic materials, not soon crushed. He ought to know that. But the man is proud. He has his faults, say what you will, Lina. Observe how engaged that group appear.

They do not know we are watching them."

"If we keep on the alert, Shirley, we shall perhaps find the clue to their secret."

"There will be some unusual movements ere long—perhaps to-morrow, possibly to-night. But my

eyes and ears are wide open. Mr. Moore, you shall be under surveillance. Be you vigilant also, Lina."

"I will. Robert is going; I saw him turn. I believe he noticed us. They are shaking hands."

"Shaking hands, with emphasis," added Shirley, "as if they were ratifying some solemn league and covenant."

They saw Robert quit the group, pass through a gate, and disappear.

"And he has not bid us good-bye," murmured Caroline.

Scarcely had the words escaped her lips when she tried by a smile to deny the confession of disappointment they seemed to imply. An unbidden suffusion for one moment both softened and brightened her eyes.

"Oh, that is soon remedied!" exclaimed Shirley: "we'll
make
him bid us good-bye."

"
Make
him! That is not the same thing," was the answer.

"It
shall
be the same thing."

"But he is gone; you can't overtake him."

"I know a shorter way than that he has taken. We will intercept him."

"But, Shirley, I would rather not go."

Caroline said this as Miss Keeldar seized her arm and hurried her down the fields. It was vain to

contend. Nothing was so wilful as Shirley when she took a whim into her head. Caroline found herself

out of sight of the crowd almost before she was aware, and ushered into a narrow shady spot, embowered above with hawthorns, and enamelled under foot with daisies. She took no notice of the

evening sun chequering the turf, nor was she sensible of the pure incense exhaling at this hour from

tree and plant; she only heard the wicket opening at one end, and knew Robert was approaching. The

long sprays of the hawthorns, shooting out before them, served as a screen. They saw him before he

observed them. At a glance Caroline perceived that his social hilarity was gone; he had left it behind

him in the joy-echoing fields round the school. What remained now was his dark, quiet, business countenance. As Shirley had said, a certain hardness characterized his air, while his eye was excited,

but austere. So much the worse timed was the present freak of Shirley's. If he had looked disposed for

holiday mirth, it would not have mattered much; but now——

"I told you not to come," said Caroline, somewhat bitterly, to her friend. She seemed truly perturbed. To be intruded on Robert thus, against her will and his expectation, and when he evidently

would rather not be delayed, keenly annoyed her. It did not annoy Miss Keeldar in the least. She stepped forward and faced her tenant, barring his way. "You omitted to bid us good-bye," she said.

"Omitted to bid you good-bye! Where did you come from? Are you fairies? I left two like you, one

in purple and one in white, standing at the top of a bank, four fields off, but a minute ago."

"You left us there and find us here. We have been watching you, and shall watch you still. You must be questioned one day, but not now. At present all you have to do is to say good-night, and then pass."

Moore glanced from one to the other without unbending his aspect. "Days of fête have their privileges, and so have days of hazard," observed he gravely.

"Come, don't moralize. Say good-night, and pass," urged Shirley.

"Must I say good-night to you, Miss Keeldar?"

"Yes, and to Caroline likewise. It is nothing new, I hope. You have bid us both good-night before."

He took her hand, held it in one of his, and covered it with the other. He looked down at her gravely, kindly, yet commandingly. The heiress could not make this man her subject. In his gaze on

her bright face there was no servility, hardly homage; but there were interest and affection, heightened by another feeling. Something in his tone when he spoke, as well as in his words, marked

that last sentiment to be gratitude.

"Your debtor bids you good-night! May you rest safely and serenely till morning."

"And you, Mr. Moore—what are you going to do? What have you been saying to Mr. Helstone, with whom I saw you shake hands? Why did all those gentlemen gather round you? Put away reserve

for once. Be frank with me."

"Who can resist you? I will be frank. To-morrow, if there is anything to relate, you shall hear it."

"Just now," pleaded Shirley; "don't procrastinate."

"But I could only tell half a tale. And my time is limited; I have not a moment to spare. Hereafter I will make amends for delay by candour."

"But are you going home?"

"Yes."

"Not to leave it any more to-night?"

"Certainly not. At present, farewell to both of you."

He would have taken Caroline's hand and joined it in the same clasp in which he held Shirley's, but

somehow it was not ready for him. She had withdrawn a few steps apart. Her answer to Moore's adieu

was only a slight bend of the head and a gentle, serious smile. He sought no more cordial token.

Again he said "Farewell," and quitted them both.

"There! it is over," said Shirley when he was gone. "We have made him bid us good-night, and yet not lost ground in his esteem, I think, Cary."

"I hope not," was the brief reply.

"I consider you very timid and undemonstrative," remarked Miss Keeldar. "Why did you not give Moore your hand when he offered you his? He is your cousin; you like him. Are you ashamed to let

him perceive your affection?"

"He perceives all of it that interests him. No need to make a display of feeling."

"You are laconic; you would be stoical if you could. Is love, in your eyes, a crime, Caroline?"

"Love a crime! No, Shirley; love is a divine virtue. But why drag that word into the conversation? It is singularly irrelevant."

"Good!" pronounced Shirley.

The two girls paced the green lane in silence. Caroline first resumed.

"Obtrusiveness is a crime, forwardness is a crime, and both disgust; but love! no purest angel need blush to love. And when I see or hear either man or woman couple shame with love, I know their minds are coarse, their associations debased. Many who think themselves refined ladies and

gentlemen, and on whose lips the word 'vulgarity' is for ever hovering, cannot mention 'love' without

betraying their own innate and imbecile degradation. It is a low feeling in their estimation, connected

only with low ideas for them."

"You describe three-fourths of the world, Caroline."

"They are cold—they are cowardly—they are stupid on the subject, Shirley! They never loved—

they never were loved!"

"Thou art right, Lina. And in their dense ignorance they blaspheme living fire, seraph-brought from a divine altar."

"They confound it with sparks mounting from Tophet."

The sudden and joyous clash of bells here stopped the dialogue by summoning all to the church.

18

Chapter

WHICH THE GENTEEL READER IS RECOMMENDED TO

SKIP, LOW PERSONS BEING HERE INTRODUCED.

The evening was still and warm; close and sultry it even promised to become. Round the descending

sun the clouds glowed purple; summer tints, rather Indian than English, suffused the horizon, and cast

rosy reflections on hillside, house-front, tree-bole, on winding road and undulating pasture-ground.

The two girls came down from the fields slowly. By the time they reached the churchyard the bells were hushed; the multitudes were gathered into the church. The whole scene was solitary.