Shirley

dead. You did not say there was a dog. Damn you! Forward!«
    Forward they went, – tramp, tramp, – with mustering, manifold, slow-filing tread. They were gone.
    Shirley stood erect; looked over the wall, along the road.
    »Not a soul remains,« she said.
    She stood and mused. »Thank God!« was the next observation.
    Caroline repeated the ejaculation, not in so steady a tone: she was trembling much; her heart was beating fast and thick; her face was cold; her forehead damp.
    »Thank God for us!« she reiterated; »but what will happen elsewhere? They have passed us by that they may make sure of others.«
    »They have done well,« returned Shirley, with composure: »the others will defend themselves, – they can do it, – they are prepared for them: with us it is otherwise. My finger was on the trigger of this pistol. I was quite ready to give that man, if he had entered, such a greeting as he little calculated on; but behind him followed three hundred: I had neither three hundred hands nor three hundred weapons. I could not have effectually protected either you, myself, or the two poor women asleep under that roof; therefore I again earnestly thank God for insult and peril escaped.«
    After a second pause, she continued: »What is it my duty and wisdom to do next? Not to stay here inactive, I am glad to say, but of course to walk over to the Hollow.«
    »To the Hollow, Shirley?«
    »To the Hollow. Will you go with me?«
    »Where those men are gone?«
    »They have taken the highway: we should not encounter them: the road over the fields is as safe, silent, and solitary as a path through the air would be. Will you go?«
    »Yes,« was the answer, given mechanically, not because the speaker wished, or was prepared to go; or, indeed, was otherwise than scared at the prospect of going, but because she felt she could not abandon Shirley.
    »Then we must fasten up these windows, and leave all as secure as we can behind us. Do you know what we are going for, Cary?«
    »Yes – no – because you wish it.«
    »Is that all? And are you so obedient to a mere caprice of mine? What a docile wife you would make to a stern husband. The moon's face is not whiter than yours at this moment; and the aspen at the gate does not tremble more than your busy fingers; and so tractable and terror-struck, and dismayed and devoted, you would follow me into the thick of real danger! Cary, let me give your fidelity a motive: we are going for Moore's sake; to see if we can be of use to him: to make an effort to warn him of what is coming.«
    »To be sure! I am a blind, weak fool, and you are acute and sensible, Shirley! I will go with you! I will gladly go with you!«
    »I do not doubt it. You would die blindly and meekly for me, but you would intelligently and gladly die for Moore: but in truth there is no question of death to-night, – we run no risk at all.«
    Caroline rapidly closed shutter and lattice. »Do not fear that I shall not have breath to run as fast as you can possibly run, Shirley. Take my hand: let us go straight across the fields.«
    »But you cannot climb walls?«
    »To-night I can.«
    »You are afraid of hedges, and the beck which we shall be forced to cross?«
    »I can cross it.«
    They started: they ran. Many a wall checked but did not baffle them. Shirley was surefooted and agile: she could spring like a deer when she chose. Caroline, more timid, and less dexterous, fell once or twice, and bruised herself; but she rose again directly, saying she was not hurt. A quickset hedge bounded the last field: they lost time in seeking a gap in it: the aperture, when found, was narrow, but they worked their way through: the long hair, the tender skin, the silks and the muslins suffered; but what was chiefly regretted was the impediment this difficulty had caused to speed. On the other side they met the beck, flowing deep in a rough bed: at this point a narrow plank formed the only bridge across it. Shirley had trodden the plank successfully and fearlessly many a time before: Caroline had never yet dared to risk the transit.
    »I will carry you across,« said Miss Keeldar: »you are light, and I am not weak: let me try.«
    »If I fall in, you may fish me out,« was the answer, as a grateful squeeze compressed her hand. Caroline, without pausing, trod forward on the trembling plank as if it were a continuation of the firm turf: Shirley, who followed, did not cross it more resolutely or safely. In their present humour, on their