Shirley

cloud's shadow does not pass more silently, more emptily than he. I have been mocked, and Heaven is cruel!«
    Thus, in the utter sickness of longing and disappointment, she went home.
    The next morning at breakfast, where she appeared white-cheeked and miserable-looking as one who had seen a ghost, she inquired of Mr. Helstone, –
    »Have you any objection, uncle, to my inquiring for a situation in a family?«
    Her uncle, ignorant as the table supporting his coffee-cup of all his niece had undergone and was undergoing, scarcely believed his ears.
    »What whim now?« he asked. »Are you bewitched? What can you mean?«
    »I am not well, and need a change,« she said.
    He examined her. He discovered she had
experienced
a change, at any rate. Without his being aware of it, the rose had dwindled and faded to a mere snowdrop: bloom had vanished, flesh wasted; she sat before him drooping, colourless, and thin. But for the soft expression of her brown eyes, the delicate lines of her features, and the flowing abundance of her hair, she would no longer have possessed a claim to the epithet – pretty.
    »What on earth is the matter with you?« he asked. »What is wrong? How are you ailing?«
    No answer, only the brown eyes filled, the faintly-tinted lips trembled.
    »Look out for a situation, indeed! For what situation are you fit? What have you been doing with yourself? You are not well.«
    »I should be well if I went from home.«
    »These women are incomprehensible. They have the strangest knack of startling you with unpleasant surprises. To-day you see them bouncing, buxom, red as cherries, and round as apples; to-morrow they exhibit themselves effete as dead weeds, blanched and broken down. And the reason of it all? that's the puzzle. She has her meals, her liberty, a good house to live in, and good clothes to wear, as usual: a while since that sufficed to keep her handsome and cheery, and there she sits now a poor, little, pale, puling chit enough. Provoking! Then comes the question, what is to be done? I suppose I must send for advice. Will you have a doctor, child?«
    »No, uncle; I don't want one: a doctor could do me no good. I merely want change of air and scene.«
    »Well, if that be the caprice, it shall be gratified. You shall go to a watering-place. I don't mind the expense: Fanny shall accompany you.«
    »But, uncle, some day I must do something for myself: I have no fortune. I had better begin now.«
    »While I live, you shall not turn out as a governess, Caroline. I will not have it said that my niece is a governess.«
    »But the later in life one makes a change of that sort, uncle, the more difficult and painful it is. I should wish to get accustomed to the yoke before any habits of ease and independence are formed.«
    »I beg you will not harass me, Caroline. I mean to provide for you. I have always meant to provide for you: I will purchase an annuity. Bless me! I am but fifty-five; my health and constitution are excellent: there is plenty of time to save and take measures. Don't make yourself anxious respecting the future: is that what frets you?«
    »No, uncle; but I long for a change.«
    He laughed. »There speaks the woman!« cried he, »the very woman! A change! a change! Always fantastical and whimsical! Well, it's in her sex.«
    »But it is not fantasy and whim, uncle.«
    »What is it then?«
    »Necessity, I think. I feel weaker than formerly. I believe I should have more to do.«
    »Admirable! She feels weak, and
therefore
she should be set to hard labour – ›clair comme le jour‹ – as Moore – confound Moore! You shall go to Cliff-bridge; and there are two guineas to buy a new frock. Come, Cary, never fear; we'll find balm in Gilead.«
    »Uncle, I wish you were less generous, and more –«
    »More what?«
    Sympathizing was the word on Caroline's lips, but it was not uttered: she checked herself in time: her uncle would indeed have laughed if that namby-pamby word had escaped her. Finding her silent, he said, –
    »The fact is, you don't know precisely what you want.«
    »Only to be a governess.«
    »Pooh! mere nonsense! I'll not hear of governessing. Don't mention it again. It is rather too feminine a fancy. I have finished breakfast, ring the bell: put all crotchets out of your head, and run away and amuse yourself.«
    »What with? My doll?« asked Caroline to herself as she quitted the room.
    A week or two passed; her bodily and mental health neither grew worse nor better. She was now