Shirley

romantic Hollow, with all my heart.«
    »Romantic – with a mill in it?«
    »Romantic with a mill in it. The old mill and the white cottage are each admirable in its way.«
    »And the counting-house, Mr. Keeldar?«
    »The counting-house is better than my bloom-coloured drawing-room: I adore the counting-house.«
    »And the trade? The cloth – the greasy wool – the polluting dyeing-vats?«
    »The trade is to be thoroughly respected.«
    »And the tradesman is a hero? Good!«
    »I am glad to hear you say so: I thought the tradesman looked heroic.«
    Mischief, spirit, and glee sparkled all over her face as she thus bandied words with the old Cossack, who almost equally enjoyed the tilt.
    »Captain Keeldar, you have no mercantile blood in your veins: why are you so fond of trade?«
    »Because I am a mill-owner, of course. Half my income comes from the works in that Hollow.«
    »Don't enter into partnership, that's all.«
    »You've put it into my head! you've put it into my head!« she exclaimed, with a joyous laugh. »It will never get out: thank you.« And waving her hand, white as a lily and fine as a fairy's, she vanished within the porch, while the Rector and his niece passed out through the arched gateway.
     

 
Chapter XII
Shirley and Caroline
    Shirley showed she had been sincere in saying she should be glad of Caroline's society, by frequently seeking it: and, indeed, if she had not sought it, she would not have had it; for Miss Helstone was slow to make fresh acquaintance. She was always held back by the idea that people could not want her, – that she could not amuse them; and a brilliant, happy, youthful creature, like the heiress of Fieldhead, seemed to her too completely independent of society so uninteresting as hers, ever to find it really welcome.
    Shirley might be brilliant, and probably happy likewise, but no one is independent of genial society; and though in about a month she had made the acquaintance of most of the families round, and was on quite free and easy terms with the Misses Sykes, and all the Misses Pearson, and the two superlative Misses Wynne of Walden Hall; yet, it appeared, she found none amongst them very genial: she fraternized with none of them, to use her own words. If she had had the bliss to be really Shirley Keeldar, Esq., Lord of the Manor of Briarfield, there was not a single fair one in this and the two neighbouring parishes, whom she should have felt disposed to request to become Mrs. Keeldar, lady of the manor. This declaration she made to Mrs. Pryor, who received it very quietly, as she did most of her pupil's off-hand speeches, responding, –
    »My dear, do not allow that habit of alluding to yourself as a gentleman to be confirmed: it is a strange one. Those who do not know you, hearing you speak thus, would think you affected masculine manners.«
    Shirley never laughed at her former governess: even the little formalities and harmless peculiarities of that lady were respectable in her eyes: had it been otherwise, she would have proved herself a weak character at once: for it is only the weak who make a butt of quiet worth; therefore she took her remonstrance in silence. She stood quietly near the window, looking at the grand cedar on her lawn, watching a bird on one of its lower boughs. Presently she began to chirrup to the bird: soon her chirrup grew clearer; erelong she was whistling; the whistle struck into a tune, and very sweetly and deftly it was executed.
    »My dear!« expostulated Mrs. Pryor.
    »Was I whistling?« said Shirley; »I forgot. I beg your pardon, ma'am. I had resolved to take care not to whistle before you.«
    »But, Miss Keeldar, where did you learn to whistle? You must have got the habit since you came down into Yorkshire. I never knew you guilty of it before.«
    »Oh! I learned to whistle a long while ago.«
    »Who taught you?«
    »No one: I took it up by listening, and I had laid it down again; but lately yesterday evening, as I was coming up our lane, I heard a gentleman whistling that very tune in the field on the other side of the hedge, and that reminded me.«
    »What gentleman was it?«
    »We have only one gentleman in this region, ma'am, and that is Mr. Moore; at least he is the only gentleman who is not grey-haired: my two venerable favourites, Mr. Helstone and Mr. Yorke, it is true, are fine old beaux; infinitely better than any of the stupid young ones.«
    Mrs. Pryor was silent.
    »You do not like Mr. Helstone, ma'am?«
    »My dear,