Shirley
examined her face well, and observed the change its somewhat wasted
features betrayed, than her mien softened. Kissing her on both cheeks,
she asked anxiously after her 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