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

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


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

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


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


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

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


Another person, it was now audible, entered.


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


were the words chiefly to be distinguished.


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


inquired another voice--Robert's, certainly.

inquired another voice - Robert's, certainly.


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

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


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

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


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

called Hortense, "come and see my brother!"


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


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

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


Surely the burnt treacle has not crazed her?"


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

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


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

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


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

The enigma of the dream was at its height.


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

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


"Certainly it is your cousin," asserted Hortense.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

Her eye beamed softly on the real Robert,


She was not permitted to quit her cousins soon.


Robert himself was peremptory in obliging her to remain.


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

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


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

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


She already knew his vocation was that of tuition.


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

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


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

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


The look woke Caroline's ready sympathy.


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

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


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


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

"It is Hortense Louis resembles, not Robert."


He had the shorter nose and longer upper lip of his sister rather than the fine traits of his brother.


He had her mould of mouth and chin--all less decisive, accurate, and clear than those of the young mill-owner.

less decisive mouth and chin than the young mill-owner.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

She felt that this evening she appeared to advantage.


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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


Caroline was obliged to reply, "Yes," and her beacon was quenched.


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

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


Whether he reddened or paled Caroline did not examine.


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


This night is not calm; the equinox still struggles in its storms.


The wild rains of the day are abated; the great single cloud disparts and rolls away from heaven, not passing and leaving a sea all sapphire, but tossed buoyant before a continued, long-sounding, high-rushing moonlight tempest.

, although the wild rains have abated. The sky is tossed by a high-rushing moonlight tempest.


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

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


No Endymion will watch for his goddess to-night.


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


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

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


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

He wants no shelter; he desires no subdued sounds.


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


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

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


He carried no candle; unneeded was lamp or fire.


The broad and clear though cloud-crossed and fluctuating beam of the moon shone on every floor and wall.

moonbeams shine on every floor and wall.


He seems following a phantom from parlour to parlour.


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

This is not chill and fireless like the salon.


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

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


Does the vision Moore has tracked occupy that chair?


You would think so, could you see him standing before it.

You would think so, if you could see him standing before it


There is as much interest now in his eye, and as much significance in his face, as if in this household solitude he had found a living companion, and was going to speak to it.


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

A small satin bag hangs on the chair-back.


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


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

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


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


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

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


Why does she leave fascination in her footprints?


Whence did she acquire the gift to be heedless and never offend?


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

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


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

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


He stood thinking, and then he made an arrangement for his evening's comfort.


He dropped the curtains over the broad window and regal moon.


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

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


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

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


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

Stoop over his shoulder, and read as he scribbles.


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


"We have scarcely encountered each other since that evening.


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

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


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

Her shyness drew a silver veil between us.


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


What an unsophisticated, untaught thing!


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


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


I see the secret tear drop quietly from her eyelash.


She said I thought her childish, and I did.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


That spectacle would provoke my brother Robert.


All her little failings would, I know, be a source of irritation to him.

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


If they vex me it is a most pleasurable vexation.


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


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


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


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

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


But the moment her _minois mutin_ meets my eye, expostulatory words crowd to my lips.

But the moment her mischievous face meets my eye, expostulatory words crowd to my lips


From a taciturn man I believe she would transform me into a talker.


Whence comes the delight I take in that talk?


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

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


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

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


I have noticed (again it is to this page only I would make the remark) that she will never permit any man but myself to render her that assistance.

I have noticed that she will never permit any man but myself to do that


I have seen her politely decline Sir Philip Nunnely's aid.


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

She is always mighty gentle with her young baronet.


I have marked her haughtily reject Sam Wynne's.


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

But I know that she resigns herself to me willingly.


Is she conscious how my strength rejoices to serve her?


I myself am not her slave--I declare it--but my faculties gather to her beauty, like the genii to the glisten of the lamp.


All my knowledge, all my prudence, all my calm, and all my power stand in her presence humbly waiting a task.

all my knowledge, all my prudence, all my calm, and all my power stand in her presence humbly waiting a task.


What joy they take in the toils she assigns!


It is remarkable that her carelessness never compromises her refinement.

Yet her carelessness never compromises her refinement.


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


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


I have seen and handled many of her possessions, because they are frequently astray.


I never saw anything that did not proclaim the lady--nothing sordid, nothing soiled.

but amongst them I never saw anything that did not proclaim the lady - nothing sordid, nothing soiled.


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


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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


But what could _I_ do with anything so nearly faultless?

But what could I do with anything so nearly faultless?


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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

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


It cannot curb her; and she must be curbed.


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

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


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


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

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


For years of solitary ministry he has lived on dreams.


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

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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


I hear in that fane an unspeakable sound.


I see an insufferable glory burning terribly between the pillars.


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


Let me lock up the desk and pocket the keys.


She will be seeking them to-morrow; she will have to come to me.

She will be seeking them tomorrow; she will have to come to me


"So she will say, in her clear voice, speaking with reluctance, looking ashamed, conscious that this is the twentieth time of asking.

them, looking ashamed, conscious that this is the twentieth time of asking.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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


The master, always an early riser, was up somewhat sooner even than usual.


He awoke his man by singing a French song as he made his toilet.

and awoke his man by singing a French song as he dressed.


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


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

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


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


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

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


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


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

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


"Now you are confounding Antwerp with Amsterdam."


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

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


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


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


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

- a native of Antwerp - though my mother came of French lineage, which is why I speak French."


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

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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

"You think yourself a clever fellow, Scott."


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

Virtue does not live only in workmen's cottages.


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

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


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


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


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

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


Pale enough that ray was on this particular morning: no colour tinged the east, no flush warmed it.


To see what a heavy lid day slowly lifted, what a wan glance she flung along the hills, you would have thought the sun's fire quenched in last night's floods.


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


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


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

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


Mr. Moore stood at the entrance to watch them pass.


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

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


Neither master nor overlooker spoke savagely.


They were not savage men either of them, though it appeared both were rigid, for they fined a delinquent who came considerably too late.

, although they fined one boy a penny for coming very late.


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


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

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


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

There are no child-torturers or slave drivers here.


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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


A grass plat and borders fronted the cottage.


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

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


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

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


Three trees, gracefully grouped, rose beside the cottage.

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


They were not lofty, but having no rivals near, they looked well and imposing where they grew.


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

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


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


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

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


For about a quarter of an hour he dug on uninterrupted.


At length, however, a window opened, and a female voice called to him,--

, until a window opened, and a female voice called:


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

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


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


He threw down his spade, and entered the house.


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

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


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

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


I must describe her before I go any farther.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

You will think she is a remarkable slattern, reader.


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

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


The petticoat, camisole, and curl-papers were her morning costume, in which, of forenoons, she had always been accustomed to "go her household ways" in her own country.

The petticoat, camisole, and curl-papers were her usual morning costume


She did not choose to adopt English fashions because she was obliged to live in England; she adhered to her old Belgian modes, quite satisfied that there was a merit in so doing.

: she adhered to her old Belgian customs.


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

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


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

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


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

However, she could be kind and friendly enough.


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

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


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


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

Louis, however, she knew less well than Robert.


He had been sent to England when a mere boy, and had received his education at an English school.

He had been sent to an English school when a mere boy, and had


His education not being such as to adapt him for trade, perhaps, too, his natural bent not inclining him to mercantile pursuits, he had, when the blight of hereditary prospects rendered it necessary for him to push his own fortune, adopted the very arduous and very modest career of a teacher.

followed the arduous and modest career of a teacher.


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

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


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

Hortense thought of him as backward and quiet.


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

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


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

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


On voyait bien que les ouvriers de ce pays taient la fois betes et mchants.


C'tait absolument comme les domestiques anglais, les servantes surtout: rien d'insupportable comme cette Sara, par exemple!"

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


"It is my duty to be happy where you are, brother; but otherwise there are certainly a thousand things which make me regret our native town.

"It is my duty to be happy where you are, brother; but certainly


All the world here appears to me ill-bred (mal-lev).


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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

In Antwerp I was always treated with distinction."


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

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


"Precisely, and thus mercenary are mankind.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


I never see an English lady dressed in such garments.


It is _she_ who on all points should consult _me_.

It is she who on all points should consult me.


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

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


"Do not spoil Caroline, I entreat you, brother.


Do not make her of more consequence than she ought to be.

make Caroline of more consequence than she ought to be, brother.


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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


I have a regard for her as my relative; her position also inspires interest, and her conduct as my pupil has hitherto been such as rather to enhance than diminish the attachment that springs from other causes."

asked Moore.
"I have a regard for her as my relative; and


"To _me_ she behaves very well; but you are conscious, brother, that I have a manner calculated to repel over-familiarity, to win esteem, and to command respect.

she behaves very well at lessons. But you know, brother, that my manner commands respect.


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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


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

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


I ever disapprove what is not intelligible."


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


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


"An example will, perhaps, be the most satisfactory explanation.


I sometimes, you are aware, make her read French poetry by way of practice in pronunciation.

when I ask her to read French poetry to practice her pronunciation.


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

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


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

Occasionally she seemed, indeed, apathetic.


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

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


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

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


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

'Cousin,' said she, 'all this bores me to death. Are there not two lines of poetry in all of French literature?'


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


She begged my pardon with proper submission.


I saw her smiling to herself over the book.


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


She is too early--half an hour before her time.--My child, what brings you here before I have breakfasted?"

She is half an hour early. -My child, what brings you here before I have breakfasted?"


This question was addressed to an individual who now entered the room, a young girl, wrapped in a winter mantle, the folds of which were gathered with some grace round an apparently slender figure.

This question was addressed to a young girl who now entered the room, wrapped in a winter mantle which was gathered gracefully round a slender figure.


"I came in haste to see how you were, Hortense, and how Robert was too.

"I came in haste to see how you were, Hortense, and Robert too.


I was sure you would be both grieved by what happened last night.

I was sure you would both be grieved by what happened last night.


"My uncle is very angry--but he was with Robert, I believe, was he not?--Did he not go with you to Stilbro' Moor?"

He is very angry - but he was with Robert, was he not? Did he not go with you to Stilbro' Moor?"


"Yes, we set out in very martial style, Caroline; but the prisoners we went to rescue met us half-way."

"Yes, we set out in martial style, Caroline; but the prisoners we went to rescue met us half-way."


"Why, no; only Joe Scott's wrists were a little galled with being pinioned too tightly behind his back."


"You were not with the wagons when they were attacked?"


One seldom has the fortune to be present at occurrences at which one would particularly wish to assist."


"Where are you going this morning?" asked Caroline.


"I saw Murgatroyd saddling your horse in the yard."


"Two are better than one, and nobody dislikes Mr. Yorke--at least, poor people do not dislike him."

Two are better than one, and nobody dislikes Mr. Yorke."


"Therefore he would be a protection to me, who am hated?" suggested Moore.


Shall you be late?--Will he be late, Cousin Hortense?"


He has often much business to transact at Whinbury.


Have you brought your exercise-book, child?"


"Yes.--What time will you return, Robert?"


It is not absolutely dark at six now, but by seven daylight is quite gone."


"And what danger is to be apprehended, Caroline, when daylight _is_ gone?


What peril do you conceive comes as the companion of darkness for me?"

do you foresee for me in darkness, Caroline?"


"I am not sure that I can define my fears, but we all have a certain anxiety at present about our friends.

"I am not sure, but we all feel anxious at present.


He says, too, that mill-owners are unpopular."


You are reluctant to speak out plainly, but at heart you think me liable to Pearson's fate, who was shot at--not, indeed, from behind a hedge, but in his own house, through his staircase window, as he was going to bed."

You are reluctant to speak out plainly, but you think I may be attacked, like Pearson - who was shot in his own house, through the window."


"Anne Pearson showed me the bullet in the chamber-door," remarked Caroline gravely, as she folded her mantle and arranged it and her muff on a side-table.

"Anne Pearson showed me the bullet," said Caroline gravely.


"You know," she continued, "there is a hedge all the way along the road from here to Whinbury, and there are the Fieldhead plantations to pass; but you will be back by six--or before?"


"And now, my child, prepare your lessons for repetition, while I put the peas to soak for the pure at dinner."

"And now, my child, prepare your lessons, while I put the peas to soak for dinner."


"You suspect I have many enemies, then, Caroline," said Mr. Moore, "and doubtless you know me to be destitute of friends?"

"You suspect I have many enemies, then, Caroline," said Mr. Moore. "Have I no friends?"


There is your sister, your brother Louis, whom I have never seen; there is Mr. Yorke, and there is my uncle--besides, of course, many more."

"Your sister, and your brother Louis, whom I have never seen; and Mr. Yorke, and my uncle - besides, of course, many more."


"You would be puzzled to name your 'many more,'" said he.


What extreme pains you take with the writing!


She wants to form you in all things after the model of a Flemish school-girl.

wants to form you like a Flemish school-girl.


What life are you destined for, Caroline?


What will you do with your French, drawing, and other accomplishments, when they are acquired?"


"You may well say, when they are acquired; for, as you are aware, till Hortense began to teach me, I knew precious little.

"You may well say, when they are acquired; for till Hortense began to teach me, I knew precious little.


As to the life I am destined for, I cannot tell.


I suppose to keep my uncle's house till----" She hesitated.


But till--in short, till events offer other occupations for me."


Children, you know, have little reflection, or rather their reflections run on ideal themes.


There are moments _now_ when I am not quite satisfied."

But there are moments now when I am not quite satisfied.


"I am making no money--earning nothing."


I should like an occupation; and if I were a boy, it would not be so difficult to find one.


I see such an easy, pleasant way of learning a business, and making my way in life."

I can see such an easy, pleasant way of learning a business, and making my way in life."


"I could be apprenticed to your trade--the cloth-trade.

"I could be apprenticed to your trade - the cloth-trade.


I could learn it of you, as we are distant relations.


I would do the counting-house work, keep the books, and write the letters, while you went to market.

I could keep the books and write the letters, while you went to market.


I know you greatly desire to be rich, in order to pay your father's debts; perhaps I could help you to get rich."

I know you want to pay your father's debts; perhaps I could help you."


"I do think of myself; but must one for ever think only of oneself?"

"I do think of myself; but must one think only of oneself?"


The poor ought to have no large sympathies; it is their duty to be narrow."

The poor need to have narrow sympathies.


Poverty is necessarily selfish, contracted, grovelling, anxious.


Now and then a poor man's heart, when certain beams and dews visit it, may smell like the budding vegetation in yonder garden on this spring day, may feel ripe to evolve in foliage, perhaps blossom; but he must not encourage the pleasant impulse; he must invoke Prudence to check it, with that frosty breath of hers, which is as nipping as any north wind."

and sympathy must be checked by Prudence, whose frosty breath is as nipping as any north wind.


"When I speak of poverty, I do not so much mean the natural, habitual poverty of the working-man, as the embarrassed penury of the man in debt.

By poverty, I mean the embarrassed penury of the man in debt."


My grub-worm is always a straitened, struggling, care-worn tradesman."


"Cherish hope, not anxiety," urged Caroline.


Certain ideas have become too fixed in your mind.


It may be presumptuous to say it, but I have the impression that there is something wrong in your notions of the best means of attaining happiness, as there is in----" Second hesitation.

"I feel there is something wrong in your notions of the best way of attaining happiness, as there is in


let me speak the truth)--in your manner--mind, I say only _manner_--to these Yorkshire workpeople."

- in your manner to the Yorkshire workpeople."


"You have often wanted to tell me that, have you not?"


"The faults of my manner are, I think, only negative.


What has a man in my position to be proud of?


I am only taciturn, phlegmatic, and joyless."


"As if your living cloth-dressers were all machines like your frames and shears.

"As if your workmen were machines like your frames.


"To those of my own house I am no alien, which I am to these English clowns.


I might act the benevolent with them, but acting is not my _forte_.


And for my part I find them irrational, perverse; they hinder me when I long to hurry forward.


In treating them justly I fulfil my whole duty towards them."


"You don't expect them to love you, of course?"


said the monitress, shaking her head and heaving a deep sigh.

said Caroline, shaking her head and heaving a deep sigh.


With this ejaculation, indicative that she perceived a screw to be loose somewhere, but that it was out of her reach to set it right, she bent over her grammar, and sought the rule and exercise for the day.


"I suppose I am not an affectionate man, Caroline.


The attachment of a very few suffices me."

The attachment of a very few people is enough for me."


"If you please, Robert, will you mend me a pen or two before you go?"

"Please, Robert, will you mend my pen before you go?"


"First let me rule your book, for you always contrive to draw the lines aslant.

"First let me rule your book, for you always manage to draw the lines aslant.


"Such as you generally make for me and Hortense; not your own broad points."


"If I were of Louis's calling I might stay at home and dedicate this morning to you and your studies, whereas I must spend it in Skyes's wool-warehouse."

If I were a tutor like Louis I might stay and dedicate this morning to you and your studies, whereas I must spend it in Skyes's wool-warehouse."


As he finished mending the pens, a horse, saddled and bridled, was brought up to the garden-gate.


"There, Fred is ready for me; I must go.


I'll take one look to see what the spring has done in the south border, too, first."


He quitted the room, and went out into the garden ground behind the mill.

He went out into the garden behind the mill.


A sweet fringe of young verdure and opening flowers--snowdrop, crocus, even primrose--bloomed in the sunshine under the hot wall of the factory.

A sweet fringe of snowdrop, crocus and primrose bloomed in the sunshine under the hot wall of the factory.


Moore plucked here and there a blossom and leaf, till he had collected a little bouquet.


He returned to the parlour, pilfered a thread of silk from his sister's work-basket, tied the flowers, and laid them on Caroline's desk.

of flowers, returned to the parlour, and laid them on Caroline's desk.


It is pretty; it looks, as it lies there, like sparkles of sunshine and blue sky.

It is pretty; it looks like sparkles of sunshine and blue sky.


He went to the door, stopped, opened his lips as if to speak, said nothing, and moved on.

Robert went to the door, stopped as if about to speak; said nothing, and went out.


He passed through the wicket, and mounted his horse.


In a second he had flung himself from his saddle again, transferred the reins to Murgatroyd, and re-entered the cottage.

But in a second he re-entered the cottage.


"I forgot my gloves," he said, appearing to take something from the side-table; then, as an impromptu thought, he remarked, "You have no binding engagement at home perhaps, Caroline?"

"I forgot my gloves," he said, and then asked, "You have no binding engagement at home perhaps, Caroline?"


Some children's socks, which Mrs. Ramsden has ordered, to knit for the Jew's basket; but they will keep."

Some children's socks to knit for the Jew's basket; but they will keep."


Anything more Jewish than it--its contents and their prices--cannot be conceived.


But I see something, a very tiny curl, at the corners of your lip, which tells me that you know its merits as well as I do.


Forget the Jew's basket, then, and spend the day here as a change.

"Forget the Jew's basket, and spend the day here for a change.


Your uncle won't break his heart at your absence?"


"Then stay and dine with Hortense; she will be glad of your company.


We will have a little reading in the evening.

, we will have a little reading in the evening.


The moon rises at half-past eight, and I will walk up to the rectory with you at nine.


She nodded her head, and her eyes lit up.


He bent over Caroline's desk and glanced at her grammar, he fingered her pen, he lifted her bouquet and played with it; his horse stamped impatient; Fred Murgatroyd hemmed and coughed at the gate, as if he wondered what in the world his master was doing.

He bent over Caroline's desk and glanced at her grammar, he lifted her bouquet and played with it; his horse stamped impatiently; his groom coughed at the gate, as if he wondered what in the world his master was doing.


"Good-morning," again said Moore, and finally vanished.


Hortense, coming in ten minutes after, found, to her surprise, that Caroline had not yet commenced her exercise.

Hortense, coming in ten minutes after, found, to her surprise, that Caroline had not yet begun her exercise.


Messrs. Helstone and Sykes began to be extremely jocose and congratulatory with Mr. Moore when he returned to them after dismissing the deputation.

Messrs. Helstone and Sykes congratulated Mr. Moore when he returned to them.


He was so quiet, however, under their compliments upon his firmness, etc., and wore a countenance so like a still, dark day, equally beamless and breezeless, that the rector, after glancing shrewdly into his eyes, buttoned up his felicitations with his coat, and said to Sykes, whose senses were not acute enough to enable him to discover unassisted where his presence and conversation were a nuisance, "Come, sir; your road and mine lie partly together.

He was so quiet, however, and so still and grim, that the rector, after glancing shrewdly into his eyes, buttoned up his coat, and said to Sykes:
"Come, sir; your road and mine lie partly together.


Had we not better bear each other company?


We'll bid Moore good-morning, and leave him to the happy fancies he seems disposed to indulge."


"I've not been quite idle while you were busy.


I've been helping you a little; I flatter myself not injudiciously.


I thought it better not to lose time; so, while you were parleying with that down-looking gentleman--Farren I think his name is--I opened this back window, shouted to Murgatroyd, who was in the stable, to bring Mr. Sykes's gig round; then I smuggled Sugden and brother Moses--wooden leg and all--through the aperture, and saw them mount the gig (always with our good friend Sykes's permission, of course).

While you were busy parleying with that Farren, I opened this back window, shouted to Murgatroyd to bring Mr. Sykes's gig round; then I smuggled Sugden and brother Moses - wooden leg and all - through the opening, and saw them mount the gig.


Sugden took the reins--he drives like Jehu--and in another quarter of an hour Barraclough will be safe in Stilbro' jail."

Sugden took the reins, and in another quarter of an hour Barraclough will be safe in Stilbro' jail."


"Very good; thank you," said Moore; "and good-morning, gentlemen," he added, and so politely conducted them to the door, and saw them clear of his premises.

"Very good; thank you," said Moore; "and good-morning, gentlemen." He politely conducted them to the door.


He was a taciturn, serious man the rest of the day.

He was taciturn and serious the rest of the day.


He did not even bandy a repartee with Joe Scott, who, for his part, said to his master only just what was absolutely necessary to the progress of business, but looked at him a good deal out of the corners of his eyes, frequently came to poke the counting-house fire for him, and once, as he was locking up for the day (the mill was then working short time, owing to the slackness of trade), observed that it was a grand evening, and he "could wish Mr. Moore to take a bit of a walk up th' Hollow.

He did not even bandy repartee with Joe Scott, who looked at him a good deal out of the corners of his eyes, and as he was locking up for the day, observed that it was a grand evening, and he "could wish Mr. Moore to take a bit of a walk up th' Hollow.


At this recommendation Mr. Moore burst into a short laugh, and after demanding of Joe what all this solicitude meant, and whether he took him for a woman or a child, seized the keys from his hand, and shoved him by the shoulders out of his presence.

At this, Mr. Moore burst into a short laugh, and after demanding whether Joe took him for a woman or a child, he seized the keys from his hand, and shoved him out by the shoulders.


He called him back, however, ere he had reached the yard-gate.


"They cannot be well off, sir, when they've not had work as a three month.

"No, sir, for they've not had work for three month.


Ye'd see yoursel' 'at William's sorely changed--fair paired.


They've selled most o' t' stuff out o' th' house."


"Ye never had a better, sir, sin' ye began trade."


Th' wife's a raight cant body, and as clean--ye mught eat your porridge off th' house floor.

Th' wife's a raight cant body, and so clean ye mught eat your porridge off th' floor.


I wish William could get a job as gardener or summat i' that way; he understands gardening weel.

I wish William could get a job as gardener or summat; he understands gardening."


He once lived wi' a Scotchman that tached him the mysteries o' that craft, as they say."


You need not stand there staring at me."


"None, but for you to take yourself off."


Spring evenings are often cold and raw, and though this had been a fine day, warm even in the morning and meridian sunshine, the air chilled at sunset, the ground crisped, and ere dusk a hoar frost was insidiously stealing over growing grass and unfolding bud.

Though this had been a fine day, the air chilled at sunset, the ground crisped, and by dusk frost was insidiously stealing over the grass.


It whitened the pavement in front of Briarmains (Mr. Yorke's residence), and made silent havoc among the tender plants in his garden, and on the mossy level of his lawn.

It whitened the pavement in front of Briarmains, Mr. Yorke's house, and made silent havoc among the tender plants in his garden.


As to that great tree, strong-trunked and broad-armed, which guarded the gable nearest the road, it seemed to defy a spring-night frost to harm its still bare boughs; and so did the leafless grove of walnut-trees rising tall behind the house.


In the dusk of the moonless if starry night, lights from windows shone vividly.

In the moonless night, lights from the windows shone vividly.


This was no dark or lonely scene, nor even a silent one.


It was rather an old place, and had been built ere that highway was cut, and when a lane winding up through fields was the only path conducting to it.

It was an old place, built before the highway was cut.


Briarfield lay scarce a mile off; its hum was heard, its glare distinctly seen.

Briarfield town lay scarce a mile off; its hum was heard, its glare distinctly seen.


Briar Chapel, a large, new, raw Wesleyan place of worship, rose but a hundred yards distant; and as there was even now a prayer-meeting being held within its walls, the illumination of its windows cast a bright reflection on the road, while a hymn of a most extraordinary description, such as a very Quaker might feel himself moved by the Spirit to dance to, roused cheerily all the echoes of the vicinage.

Briar Chapel, a large, new, raw Wesleyan place of worship, rose a hundred yards distant; and as there was a prayer-meeting being held within its walls, its windows cast a bright reflection on the road, while a hymn roused cheery echoes.


The words were distinctly audible by snatches.


Here is a quotation or two from different strains; for the singers passed jauntily from hymn to hymn and from tune to tune, with an ease and buoyancy all their own:--


who can explain
This struggle for life,
This travail and pain,
This trembling and strife?"


Plague, earthquake, and famine, And tumult and war, The wonderful coming Of Jesus declare!


"For every fight Is dreadful and loud: The warrior's delight Is slaughter and blood, His foes overturning, Till all shall expire: And this is with burning, And fuel, and fire!"


Here followed an interval of clamorous prayer, accompanied by fearful groans.

After the hymn followed clamorous prayer, accompanied by fearful groans


rang from the chapel, and out all the assembly broke again.

and frantic shouts, and more noisy singing.


Gathered into the fold, With Thy people enrolled, With Thy people to live and to die!


"Oh, the goodness of God In employing a clod His tribute of glory to raise; His standard to bear, And with triumph declare His unspeakable riches of grace!


"Oh, the fathomless love That has deigned to approve And prosper the work of my hands.


With my pastoral crook I went over the brook, And behold I am spread into bands!


"Who, I ask in amaze, Hath begotten me these?


And inquire from what quarter they came.


My full heart it replies, They are born from the skies, And gives glory to God and the Lamb!"


The stanza which followed this, after another and longer interregnum of shouts, yells, ejaculations, frantic cries, agonized groans, seemed to cap the climax of noise and zeal.


"Sleeping on the brink of sin, Tophet gaped to take us in; Mercy to our rescue flew, Broke the snare, and brought us through.


"Here, as in a lion's den, Undevoured we still remain, Pass secure the watery flood, Hanging on the arm of God.


(Terrible, most distracting to the ear, was the strained shout in which the last stanza was given.)


"Here we raise our voices higher, Shout in the refiner's fire, Clap our hands amidst the flame, Glory give to Jesus' name!"


The roof of the chapel did _not_ fly off, which speaks volumes in praise of its solid slating.


But if Briar Chapel seemed alive, so also did Briarmains, though certainly the mansion appeared to enjoy a quieter phase of existence than the temple.


Some of its windows too were aglow; the lower casements opened upon the lawn; curtains concealed the interior, and partly obscured the ray of the candles which lit it, but they did not entirely muffle the sound of voice and laughter.

Its windows too were aglow; curtains concealed the interior, but did not entirely muffle the sound of voices and laughter.


We are privileged to enter that front door, and to penetrate to the domestic sanctum.


It is not the presence of company which makes Mr. Yorke's habitation lively, for there is none within it save his own family, and they are assembled in that farthest room to the right, the back parlour.


This is the usual sitting-room of an evening.


Those windows would be seen by daylight to be of brilliantly-stained glass, purple and amber the predominant hues, glittering round a gravely-tinted medallion in the centre of each, representing the suave head of William Shakespeare, and the serene one of John Milton.

Those windows are of brilliantly-stained glass, with purple and amber glittering round a medallion in the centre of each, representing the heads of Shakespeare and Milton.


Some Canadian views hung on the walls--green forest and blue water scenery--and in the midst of them blazes a night-eruption of Vesuvius; very ardently it glows, contrasted with the cool foam and azure of cataracts, and the dusky depths of woods.

Some Canadian views hang on the walls - green forest and blue water - and in the midst of them blazes a night-eruption of Vesuvius.


The fire illuminating this room, reader, is such as, if you be a southern, you do not often see burning on the hearth of a private apartment.


It is a clear, hot coal fire, heaped high in the ample chimney.


Mr. Yorke _will_ have such fires even in warm summer weather.


He sits beside it with a book in his hand, a little round stand at his elbow supporting a candle; but he is not reading--he is watching his children.

sits beside it with a book; but he is not reading - he is watching his children.


Opposite to him sits his lady--a personage whom I might describe minutely, but I feel no vocation to the task.


I see her, though, very plainly before me--a large woman of the gravest aspect, care on her front and on her shoulders, but not overwhelming, inevitable care, rather the sort of voluntary, exemplary cloud and burden people ever carry who deem it their duty to be gloomy.

: a large woman of grave aspect, wearing an expression of care - the sort of care of a person who deems it her duty to be gloomy.


Mrs. Yorke had that notion, and grave as Saturn she was, morning, noon, and, night; and hard things she thought if any unhappy wight--especially of the female sex--who dared in her presence to show the light of a gay heart on a sunny countenance.


In her estimation, to be mirthful was to be profane, to be cheerful was to be frivolous.

's opinion, to be cheerful was to be frivolous.


Yet she was a very good wife, a very careful mother, looked after her children unceasingly, was sincerely attached to her husband; only the worst of it was, if she could have had her will, she would not have permitted him to have any friend in the world beside herself.

Yet she was a very good wife, a careful mother, looked after her children unceasingly, and was sincerely attached to her husband; although if she could, she would not have allowed him any friend in the world besides herself.


All his relations were insupportable to her, and she kept them at arm's length.


Mr. Yorke and she agreed perfectly well, yet he was naturally a social, hospitable man, an advocate for family unity; and in his youth, as has been said, he liked none but lively, cheerful women.

Mr. Yorke and she agreed perfectly well; yet he was a social, hospitable man, and in his youth, as has been said, he liked lively, cheerful women.


Why he chose her, how they contrived to suit each other, is a problem puzzling enough, but which might soon be solved if one had time to go into the analysis of the case.


Suffice it here to say that Yorke had a shadowy side as well as a sunny side to his character, and that his shadowy side found sympathy and affinity in the whole of his wife's uniformly overcast nature.

But Yorke had a shadowy side as well as a sunny side to his character, and his shadowy side found sympathy in his wife's overcast nature.


For the rest, she was a strong-minded woman; never said a weak or a trite thing; took stern, democratic views of society, and rather cynical ones of human nature; considered herself perfect and safe, and the rest of the world all wrong.

For the rest, she was a strong-minded woman; never said a weak or a trite thing; was rather stern and cynical; considered herself right, and the rest of the world all wrong.


Her main fault was a brooding, eternal, immitigable suspicion of all men, things, creeds, and parties; this suspicion was a mist before her eyes, a false guide in her path, wherever she looked, wherever she turned.

Her main fault was a brooding suspicion of all men, things and beliefs, which hindered her vision.


It may be supposed that the children of such a pair were not likely to turn out quite ordinary, commonplace beings; and they were not.

It may be supposed that the children of such a pair were not likely to turn out commonplace beings; and they were not.


The youngest is a baby on the mother's knee.


It is all her own yet, and that one she has not yet begun to doubt, suspect, condemn; it derives its sustenance from her, it hangs on her, it clings to her, it loves her above everything else in the world.


She is sure of that, because, as it lives by her, it cannot be otherwise, therefore she loves it.


The two next are girls, Rose and Jessy; they are both now at their father's knee; they seldom go near their mother, except when obliged to do so.

The two next are girls, Rose and Jessy; they are both at their father's knee; they seldom go near their mother, except when obliged to do so.


Rose, the elder, is twelve years old; she is like her father--the most like him of the whole group--but it is a granite head copied in ivory; all is softened in colour and line.

Rose, the elder, is twelve years old; she is like her father, but softened


Yorke himself has a harsh face--his daughter's is not harsh, neither is it quite pretty; it is simple, childlike in feature; the round cheeks bloom: as to the gray eyes, they are otherwise than childlike; a serious soul lights them--a young soul yet, but it will mature, if the body lives; and neither father nor mother have a spirit to compare with it.

, with round cheeks and grey eyes lit by a serious soul - a young soul yet, but it will mature; and neither father nor mother have a spirit to compare with it.


Partaking of the essence of each, it will one day be better than either--stronger, much purer, more aspiring.


Rose is a still, sometimes a stubborn, girl now.


Her mother wants to make of her such a woman as she is herself--a woman of dark and dreary duties; and Rose has a mind full-set, thick-sown with the germs of ideas her mother never knew.

with a mind thick-sown with the germs of ideas her mother never knew.


It is agony to her often to have these ideas trampled on and repressed.


She has never rebelled yet; but if hard driven, she will rebel one day, and then it will be once for all.

She has never rebelled yet; but if hard driven, she will rebel one day.


Rose loves her father: her father does not rule her with a rod of iron; he is good to her.

Rose loves her father, for he is good to her.


He sometimes fears she will not live, so bright are the sparks of intelligence which, at moments, flash from her glance and gleam in her language.

He sometimes fears she will not live long, and


This idea makes him often sadly tender to her.

this idea makes him sadly tender to her.


He has no idea that little Jessy will die young, she is so gay and chattering, arch, original even now; passionate when provoked, but most affectionate if caressed; by turns gentle and rattling; exacting, yet generous; fearless--of her mother, for instance, whose irrationally hard and strict rule she has often defied--yet reliant on any who will help her.

He has no idea that little Jessy will die young, she is so gay and chattering, arch and original; by turns gentle and rattling; exacting, yet generous; fearless of her mother, yet reliant on anyone who will help her.


Jessy, with her little piquant face, engaging prattle, and winning ways, is made to be a pet, and her father's pet she accordingly is.

Jessy, with her engaging prattle and winning ways, is made to be a pet, and her father's pet she accordingly is.


It is odd that the doll should resemble her mother feature by feature, as Rose resembles her father, and yet the physiognomy--how different!


Mr. Yorke, if a magic mirror were now held before you, and if therein were shown you your two daughters as they will be twenty years from this night, what would you think?


The magic mirror is here: you shall learn their destinies--and first that of your little life, Jessy.


No, you never saw it; but you recognize the nature of these trees, this foliage--the cypress, the willow, the yew.


Stone crosses like these are not unfamiliar to you, nor are these dim garlands of everlasting flowers.

place is unfamiliar, but the stone crosses are not; we recognize the cypress and the yew.


Here is the place--green sod and a gray marble headstone.


She lived through an April day; much loved was she, much loving.


She often, in her brief life, shed tears, she had frequent sorrows; she smiled between, gladdening whatever saw her.


Her death was tranquil and happy in Rose's guardian arms, for Rose had been her stay and defence through many trials.

Her death was tranquil and happy in Rose's arms, for Rose had been her stay and defence through many trials.


The dying and the watching English girls were at that hour alone in a foreign country, and the soil of that country gave Jessy a grave.


The crosses and garlands looked strange, but the hills and woods of this landscape look still stranger.


This, indeed, is far from England; remote must be the shores which wear that wild, luxuriant aspect.

This landscape is far from England; remote must be those wild, luxuriant shores.


Unknown birds flutter round the skirts of that forest; no European river this, on whose banks Rose sits thinking.


The little quiet Yorkshire girl is a lonely emigrant in some region of the southern hemisphere.

The little quiet Yorkshire girl is a lonely emigrant in the southern hemisphere.


The three eldest of the family are all boys--Matthew, Mark, and Martin.

The three eldest of the family are all boys - Matthew, Mark, and Martin.


They are seated together in that corner, engaged in some game.


Observe their three heads: much alike at a first glance; at a second, different; at a third, contrasted.

their three heads much alike at first glance.


Dark-haired, dark-eyed, red-cheeked are the whole trio; small English features they all possess; all own a blended resemblance to sire and mother; and yet a distinctive physiognomy, mark of a separate character, belongs to each.

Dark-haired, dark-eyed, red-cheeked are the whole trio; yet a distinctive character belongs to each.


I shall not say much about Matthew, the first-born of the house, though it is impossible to avoid gazing at him long, and conjecturing what qualities that visage hides or indicates.