Shirley
Caroline. "We should if we listened to the wisdom of experience. My
uncle always speaks of marriage as a burden; and I believe whenever he
hears of a man being married he invariably regards him as a fool, or, at
any rate, as doing a foolish thing."
"But, Caroline, men are not all like your uncle. Surely not. I hope
not."
She paused and mused.
"I suppose we each find an exception in the one we love, till we _are_
married," suggested Caroline.
"I suppose so. And this exception we believe to be of sterling
materials. We fancy it like ourselves; we imagine a sense of harmony. We
think his voice gives the softest, truest promise of a heart that will
never harden against us; we read in his eyes that faithful
feeling--affection. I don't think we should trust to what they call
passion at all, Caroline. I believe it is a mere fire of dry sticks,
blazing up and vanishing. But we watch him, and see him kind to animals,
to little children, to poor people. He is kind to us likewise, good,
considerate. He does not flatter women, but he is patient with them, and
he seems to be easy in their presence, and to find their company genial.
He likes them not only for vain and selfish reasons, but as _we_ like
him--because we like him. Then we observe that he is just, that he
always speaks the truth, that he is conscientious. We feel joy and peace
when he comes into a room; we feel sadness and trouble when he leaves
it. We know that this man has been a kind son, that he is a kind
brother. Will any one dare to tell me that he will not be a kind
husband?"
"My uncle would affirm it unhesitatingly. 'He will be sick of you in a
month,' he would say."
"Mrs. Pryor would seriously intimate the same."
"Mrs. Yorke and Miss Mann would darkly suggest ditto."
"If they are true oracles, it is good never to fall in love."
"Very good, if you can avoid it."
"I choose to doubt their truth."
"I am afraid that proves you are already caught."
"Not I. But if I were, do you know what soothsayers I would consult?"
"Let me hear."
"Neither man nor woman, elderly nor young: the little Irish beggar that
comes barefoot to my door; the mouse that steals out of the cranny in
the wainscot; the bird that in frost and snow pecks at my window for a
crumb; the dog that licks my hand and sits beside my knee."
"Did you ever see any one who was kind to such things?"
"Did you ever see any one whom such things seemed instinctively to
follow, like, rely on?"
"We have a black cat and an old dog at the rectory. I know somebody to
whose knee that black cat loves to climb, against whose shoulder and
cheek it likes to purr. The old dog always comes out of his kennel and
wags his tail, and whines affectionately when somebody passes."
"And what does that somebody do?"
"He quietly strokes the cat, and lets her sit while he conveniently can;
and when he must disturb her by rising, he puts her softly down, and
never flings her from him roughly. He always whistles to the dog and
gives him a caress."
"Does he? It is not Robert?"
"But it is Robert."
"Handsome fellow!" said Shirley, with enthusiasm. Her eyes sparkled.
"Is he not handsome? Has he not fine eyes and well-cut features, and a
clear, princely forehead?"
"He has all that, Caroline. Bless him! he is both graceful and good."
"I was sure you would see that he was. When I first looked at your face
I knew you would."
"I was well inclined to him before I saw him. I liked him when I did see
him. I admire him now. There is charm in beauty for itself, Caroline;
when it is blent with goodness, there is a powerful charm."
"When mind is added, Shirley?"
"Who can resist it?"
"Remember my uncle, Mesdames Pryor, Yorke, and Mann."
"Remember the croaking of the frogs of Egypt. He is a noble being. I
tell you when they _are_ good they are the lords of the creation--they
are the sons of God. Moulded in their Maker's image, the minutest spark
of His spirit lifts them almost above mortality. Indisputably, a great,
good, handsome man is the first of created things."
"Above us?"
"I would scorn to contend for empire with him--I would scorn it. Shall
my left hand dispute for precedence with my right? Shall my heart
quarrel with my pulse? Shall my veins be jealous of the blood which
fills them?"
"Men and women, husbands and wives, quarrel horribly, Shirley."
"Poor things! Poor, fallen, degenerate things! God made them for another
lot, for other feelings."
"But are we men's equals, or are we not?"
"Nothing ever charms me more than when I meet my superior--one who makes
me sincerely feel that he is my superior."
"Did you ever meet him?"
"I should be glad to see him any day. The higher above me, so much the
better. It degrades to stoop; it is glorious to look up. What frets me
is, that when I try to esteem, I am baffled; when religiously inclined,
there are but false gods to adore. I disdain to be a pagan."
"Miss Keeldar, will you come in? We are here at the rectory gates."
"Not to-day, but to-morrow I shall fetch you to spend the evening with
me. Caroline Helstone, if you really are what at present to me you seem,
you and I will suit. I have never in my whole life been able to talk to
a young lady as I have talked to you this morning. Kiss me--and
good-bye."
* * * * *
Mrs. Pryor seemed as well disposed to cultivate Caroline's acquaintance
as Shirley. She, who went nowhere else, called on an early day at the
rectory. She came in the afternoon, when the rector happened to be out.
It was rather a close day; the heat of the weather had flushed her, and
she seemed fluttered too by the circumstance of entering a strange
house, for it appeared her habits were most retiring and secluded. When
Miss Helstone went to her in the dining-room she found her seated on the
sofa, trembling, fanning herself with her handkerchief, and seeming to
contend with a nervous discomposure that threatened to become
hysterical.
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. 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. To Miss Helstone's little light hand, however, she yielded
tractably, and seemed soothed by its contact. 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. 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.
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.
"That is a beautiful face," said Mrs. Pryor, interrupting a brief pause
which had followed half an hour's animated conversation. "The features
may be termed perfect; no statuary's chisel could improve them. It is a
portrait from the life, I presume?"
"It is a portrait of Mrs. Helstone."
"Of Mrs. Matthewson Helstone? Of your uncle's wife?"
"It is, and is said to be a good likeness. Before her marriage she was
accounted the beauty of the district."
"I should say she merited the distinction. What accuracy in all the
lineaments! It is, however, a passive face. The original could not have
been what is generally termed 'a woman of spirit.'"
"I believe she was a remarkably still, silent person."
"One would scarcely have expected, my dear, that your uncle's choice
should have fallen on a partner of that description. Is he not fond of
being amused by lively chat?"
"In company he is. But he always says he could never do with a talking
wife. He must have quiet at home. 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?"
"About five years."
"Well, my dear," pursued Mrs. Pryor, rising to go, "I trust it is
understood that you will frequently come to Fieldhead. I hope you will.
You must feel lonely here, having no female relative in the house; you
must necessarily pass much of your time in solitude."
"I am inured to it. I have grown up by myself. May I arrange your shawl
for you?"
Mrs. Pryor submitted to be assisted.
"Should you chance to 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. I should wish to be of
use to you."
Again Miss Helstone returned thanks. She thought 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."
"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."
"What difference?" inquired Caroline, accompanying her to the door.
"James Helstone--that is, my father--is generally considered the
best-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."
"But where or what is the difference of character to which you alluded?
Tell me. I wish to see if you guess right."
"My dear, your uncle is a man of principle. His forehead and his lips
are firm, and his eye is steady."
"Well, and the other? Do not be afraid of offending me. I always like
the truth."
"Do you like the truth? It is well for you. 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. It is, however, a graceful head--taken in youth, I should
think. My dear" (turning abruptly), "you acknowledge an inestimable
value in principle?"
"I am sure no character can have true worth without it."
"You feel what you say? You have considered the subject?"
"Often. 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. Good-afternoon."
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. 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