Shirley

news.«
    »No such thing; I am much too delicate to make and keep such appointments in the winter season: if you knew what a pain I had in my chest this morning, and how I went without breakfast, and was knocked down besides, you'd feel the impropriety of bringing me here in the snow. Come, I say.«
    »Are you really delicate, Martin?«
    »Don't I look so?«
    »You have rosy cheeks.«
    »That's hectic. Will you come – or you won't?«
    »Where?«
    »With me. I was a fool not to bring a cloak: I would have made you cozy.«
    »You are going home: my nearest road lies in the opposite direction.«
    »Put your arm through mine. I'll take care of you.«
    »But, the wall – the hedge – it is such hard work climbing, and you are too slender and young to help me without hurting yourself.«
    »You shall go through the gate.«
    »But –«
    »But! – but! Will you trust me or not?«
    She looked into his face.
    »I think I will. Anything rather than return as anxious as I came.«
    »I can't answer for that. This, however, I promise you; be ruled by me, and you shall see Moore yourself.«
    »See him myself?«
    »Yourself.«
    »But, dear Martin, does he know?«
    »Ah! I'm dear now. No: he does n't know.«
    »And your mother and the others?«
    »All is right.«
    Caroline fell into a long silent fit of musing, but still she walked on with her guide: they came in sight of Briarmains.
    »Have you made up your mind?« he asked.
    She was silent.
    »Decide. We are just on the spot.
I won't
see him – that I tell you – except to announce your arrival.«
    »Martin, you are a strange boy, and this is a strange step; but all I feel
is
and
has
been, for a long time, strange. I will see him.«
    »Having said that, you will neither hesitate nor retract?«
    »No.«
    »Here we are, then. Do not be afraid of passing the parlour-window: no one will see you. My father and Matthew are at the mill; Mark is at school; the servants are in the back-kitchen; Miss Moore is at the cottage; my mother in her bed; and Mrs. Horsfall in Paradise. Observe – I need not ring: I open the door; the hall is empty; the staircase quiet; so is the gallery: the whole house and all its inhabitants are under a spell, which I will not break till you are gone.«
    »Martin, I trust you.«
    »You never said a better word. Let me take your shawl: I will shake off the snow and dry it for you. You are cold and wet: never mind; there is a fire up-stairs. Are you ready?«
    »Yes.«
    »Follow me.«
    He left his shoes on the mat; mounted the stair unshod; Caroline stole after, with noiseless step: there was a gallery, and there was a passage; at the end of that passage Martin paused before a door and tapped: he had to tap twice – thrice: a voice, known to one listener, at last said, –
    »Come in.«
    The boy entered briskly.
    »Mr. Moore, a lady called to inquire after you: none of the women were about: it is washing-day, and the maids are over the crown of the head in soap-suds in the back-kitchen; so I asked her to step up.«
    »Up here, sir?«
    »Up here, sir; but if you object, she shall go down again.«
    »Is this a place, or am I a person to bring a lady to, you absurd lad?«
    »No: so I'll take her off.«
    »Martin, you will stay here. Who is she?«
    »Your grandmother from that château on the Scheldt Miss Moore talks about.«
    »Martin,« said the softest whisper at the door, »don't be foolish.«
    »Is she there?« inquired Moore, hastily. He had caught an imperfect sound.
    »She is there, fit to faint: she is standing on the mat, shocked at your want of filial affection.«
    »Martin, you are an evil cross between an imp and a page. What is she like?«
    »More like me than you; for she is young and beautiful.«
    »You are to show her forward. Do you hear?«
    »Come, Miss Caroline.«
    »Miss Caroline!« repeated Moore.
    And when Miss Caroline entered, she was encountered in the middle of the chamber by a tall, thin, wasted figure, who took both her hands.
    »I give you a quarter of an hour,« said Martin, as he withdrew: »no more. Say what you have to say in that time: till it is past, I will wait in the gallery: nothing shall approach: I'll see you safe away. Should you persist in staying longer, I leave you to your fate.«
    He shut the door. In the gallery he was as elate as a king: he had never been engaged in an adventure he liked so well; for no adventure had ever invested him with so much importance, or inspired him with so much interest.
    »You are come