Shirley

slightly moved as she looked, she felt, valued, and was healed by them.
    »I am deficient in self-confidence and decision,« she said at last. »I always have been deficient in those qualities: yet I think Miss Keeldar should have known my character well enough by this time, to be aware that I always feel an even painful solicitude to do right, to act for the best. The unusual nature of the demand on my judgment puzzled me, especially following the alarms of the night. I could not venture to act promptly for another: but I trust no serious harm will result from my lapse of firmness.«
    A gentle knock was here heard at the door: it was half-opened.
    »Caroline, come here,« said a low voice.
    Miss Helstone went out: there stood Shirley in the gallery, looking contrite, ashamed, sorry as any repentant child.
    »How is Mrs. Pryor?« she asked.
    »Rather out of spirits,« said Caroline.
    »I have behaved very shamefully, very ungenerously, very ungratefully to her,« said Shirley. »How insolent in me to turn on her thus, for what after all was no fault, only an excess of conscientiousness on her part. But I regret my error most sincerely: tell her so, and ask if she will forgive me.«
    Caroline discharged the errand with heartfelt pleasure. Mrs. Pryor rose, came to the door: she did not like scenes; she dreaded them as all timid people do: she said falteringly –
    »Come in, my dear.«
    Shirley did come in with some impetuosity: she threw her arms round her governess, and while she kissed her heartily, she said –
    »You know you
must
forgive me, Mrs. Pryor. I could not get on at all if there was a misunderstanding between you and me.«
    »I have nothing to forgive,« was the reply. »We will pass it over now if you please. The final result of the incident is, that it proves more plainly than ever how unequal I am to certain crises.«
    And that was the painful feeling which
would
remain on Mrs. Pryor's mind: no effort of Shirley's or Caroline's could efface it thence: she could forgive her offending pupil, not her innocent self.
    Miss Keeldar, doomed to be in constant request during the morning, was presently summoned down-stairs again. The Rector called first: a lively welcome and livelier reprimand were at his service; he expected both, and, being in high spirits, took them in equally good part.
    In the course of his brief visit, he quite forgot to ask after his niece: the riot, the rioters, the mill, the magistrates, the heiress, absorbed all his thoughts to the exclusion of family ties. He alluded to the part himself and curate had taken in the defence of the Hollow.
    »The vials of pharisaical wrath will be emptied on our heads, for our share in this business,« he said; »but I defy every calumniator. I was there only to support the law, to play my part as a man and a Briton; which characters I deem quite compatible with those of the priest and Levite, in their highest sense. Your tenant, Moore,« he went on, »has won my approbation. A cooler commander I would not wish to see, nor a more determined. Besides, the man has shown sound judgment and good sense; first, in being thoroughly prepared for the event which has taken place, and subsequently, when his well-concerted plans had secured him success in knowing how to use without abusing his victory. Some of the magistrates are now well frightened, and, like all cowards, show a tendency to be cruel; Moore restrains them with admirable prudence. He has hitherto been very unpopular in the neighbourhood; but, mark my words, the tide of opinion will now take a turn in his favour: people will find out that they have not appreciated him, and will hasten to remedy their error; and he, when he perceives the public disposed to acknowledge his merits, will show a more gracious mien than that with which he has hitherto favoured us.«
    Mr. Helstone was about to add to this speech some half-jesting, half-serious warnings to Miss Keeldar, on the subject of her rumoured partiality for her talented tenant, when a ring at the door, announcing another caller, checked his raillery; and as that other caller appeared in the form of a white-haired, elderly gentleman, with a rather truculent countenance and disdainful eye – in short, our old acquaintance, and the Rector's old enemy, Mr. Yorke, the priest and Levite seized his hat, and with the briefest of adieux to Miss Keeldar, and the sternest of nods to her guest, took an abrupt leave.
    Mr. Yorke was in no mild mood, and in no