The Sun.
London, England, 1849-11-14 00:00:00

LONDON,

ratter of the former. This conversation, which ap-
pezirs really the simple and natural discourse of two
girls, is one of inauy proofs that, whether or no
Currer Bell be a true appellation, "Shirley" is the
work of a woman's pen.
" I often weirder, Shirley, whether most men re-
remble my uncle in their domestic relations; whether
it is necessary to be new and unfamiliar to them, in
order to seem agreeable or estimable in their eyes ;
and whether it is impossible to their natures to retain
a constant interest and affection for those they see
every day.'
" I don't know : I can't clear up your doubts. I
ponder over similar ones myself sometimes. But, to
tell you a secret, if I were convinced that they are
necessarily and universally different from us—fickle,
soon petrifying, unsympethizing -- I would m vor
marry. I should not like to, MA out that what I lobed
did not love me, that it was weary of me, and that
whatever effort I might make to please would hereafter
be worse than useless, since it was ir.esitably in its
naturo to change and become indifferent. That dis-
covery once made, what s'iould I long fbr ? To go
away--to remove from a presence where my society
gave no pleasure.'
" But you could not, if you were married.'
" No, I could not—there it is. I could never be my
own mistress more. A terrible thought!—it suffocates
me! Nothing irks me like the idea of being a burden
and a bore—an inevitable burden—a ceaseless bore !
Now, when I feel my company supei fiuous, I can cora-
lertably fold my independence round me like a mantle,
and drop my pride like a veil, and withdraw to solitude.
If married, that could not be.'
"' I wonder we don't all make up our minds to remain
single,' said Caroline : ' we should if we listened to the
wisdom of experience. • My uncle always speaks of
marriage as a burden; and I believe whenever he hears
of a man being married, ho invariably regards him as a
fool, or, at any rate, as doing a foolish thing?
" But, Caroline, men are not all like your uncle :
surely not—l hope nat.'
" She paused and mused.
"' I suppose we each find an exception in the one we
love, till we are married,' suggested Caroline.
" I suppose so: and this exception we believe to be I
of sterling materials ; we fancy it like ourselves; we
imagine a sense of harmony. We think his voice gives
the softest, truest promise of a heart that will never
harden against us: we read in his eyes that faithful
feeling—affection. I don't think wo should trust to
what they c ell passion, at all, Caroline. I believe it is
a mere fire of dry sticks, blazing up and vanishing: but
we watch him, and see him kind to animals, to little
children, to poor people. He is kind to us likewise—
good—considerate : he does not flatter women, but he
is patient with them, and he seems to be easy in their
presence, and to find their company genial. Ile likes
them not only for vain and selfish reasons, but as we
like him—because we like him. Then we observe that
he is just—that he always speaks the truth—that he is
conscientious. We feel joy and peace when he comes
into a room: we feel sadness and trouble when he leaves
it. We know that this man has been a kind son, that
he is a kind brother: will any one dare to tell mo that
he will not be a kind husband?'

" My uncle would affirm it unhesitatingly. "He will
be sick of you in a month," he would say.'
"' Mrs. Pryor would seriously intimate the same.'
" Mrs. Yorke and Miss Mann would darkly suggest

ditto.'
" ' If they are true oracles, it is good never to fall in

love.'
" Very good, if you can avoid it.'
"' I choose to doubt their truth.'
" I am afraid that proves you are already caught.'
" Not I : but if I were, do you know what swth-
sayers I would cinsult?'
Let me hear.'
" Neither man nor woman, elderly nor young : the
little Met beggar that comes barefoot to my door; the
mouse that steals out of the cranny in the wainscot;
the bird that in frost and snow pecks at my window for
a crumb; the dog that licks my hand and sits beside my
knee.'
" Did )ou ever see any one who was kind to such
things?'
" • Did you ever see any one whom such things
seemed instinctively to follow, like, rely on?'
" We have a black cat and an old dog at the Rectory.
I know somebody to whose knee that black cat loves to
climb ; against whose shoulder and cheek it likes to
purr. The old dog; always comes out of his kennel and
wags his tail, and whines affectionately when somebody
passes.'
"' And what does that somebody do?'
" He quietly strokes the cat, and lets her sit while
he conveniently can, and when he must disturb her by
rising, he puts her softly down, and never flings her from
him roughly; he always whistles to the dog and gives
him a caress.'
" Does he. It is not Robert?'
" But it is Robert.'
"' Handsome fellow!' said Shirley, with enthusiasm :
her eyes sparkled. '
" Is he not handsome? Has he not fine eyes and
well cut features, and a clear, princely forehead?'
"' He has all that, Caroline. Bless him! he is both
graceful and good.'
" I was sure you would see that he was: when I
first looked at your face I knew you would.'
" I was well inclined to him before I saw him. I
liked him when I did see him : I admire him now.
There is a charm in beauty for itself; Caroline; when it
is blent with goodness there is a powerful charm.'
" ' When mind is added, Shirley.'
" ' Who can resist it?'
" ' Remember my uncle, Mesdames Pryor, Yorke,
and Mann.'
" Remember the croaking of the frogs of Egypt
He is a noble being. I tell you when they are good,
they are the lords of the creation—they arc the sons of
God. Moulded in their Maker's image, the minutest
themod, han
da
sl mo
mo se t
maabno ti•
se
tmh
eo rfit
ti t
oy
f.
Ispnadrikspouftablyis,
as pgi
rr ieta fgtes
created things.'
"' Above us?'
"' I would scorn to contend for empire with him—l
would scorn it. Shall my left hand dispute for prece•
deuce with my right?—shall my heart quarrel with my
pulse?—shall my veins be jealous of the blood which
fills them?'
"' Men and women, husbands and wives, quarrel hor-
ribly, Shirley.'
" Poor things!—poor fallen, degenerate things! God
made them for another lot—for other feelings.'
"' But are we men's equals, or are we not?'
" Nothing ever charms me more than when I meet
my superior—one who makes me sincerely feel that he
is my superior.'
"' Did you ever meet him?'
" I should be glad to see him any day: the higher
above me, so much the bettcr: it degrades to stoop—it
is glorious to look up. What frets me is, that when I
try to esteem, I am baffled: when religiously inclined,
there are but false gods to adore. I disdain. to be a
Pagan.'

" Miss Keeldar, will you come in? We are here at
the Rectory gates.' "
Shirley does net make her appearance until the
close of the first volume, yet the first volume is not
the least interesting of the three. It is rendered
attractive by the exquisitely natural presence of
Caroline Ilelstone, whose heart-history is detailed
with a simple tenderness and pathos quite affecting
from. its apparent truthfulness. Robert Moore, the
brother of the Louis above mentioned, is a Yorkshire
mill-owner of a somewhat stern and determined
character. Being half a foreigner, he is regarded
with little kindness by his neighbours, and in his zeal
for progress, being a patron ..of all new inventions in
machinery, he is an object of indignation to the
majority of the workmen. Beneath his outward
austerity Robert's better nature occasionally peeps
forth, never more visibly than when in presence of
diroline Ilelstone, the rector's niece, and his own dis-
tant relation—the gentle, tender, devoted Caroline,
who conies daily to take her lesson in French from
Hortense Moore, and who almost daily contrives to
find greater pleasure in • the society of Hortense's
brother Robert. The time in which these
incidents took place was during the Peninsular
war. '1 he " orders in Council," the object of the
rnillowners' abhorrence, which closed foreign ports
against British manufactures, were reducing Robert
to the verge of ruin. To make money was in his
case almost a duty, seeing that it was his purpose to
restore the credit of his family, ruined by his father's
unsuccessful speculation. Robert, therefore, must not
marry unless he can meet with an heiress, and accord-
ingly he woos Shirley Keeldar. Before this proceeding
he has, perhaps thoughtlessly, trifled with his little
loving cousin—hence the sorrow which overwhelms
poor Caroline. This portion of the narrative is invested
with a vivid air of reality—e. g., Caroline has been
passing a happy evening at the cottage of the Moores.
She repeats the poem of " La Jeune Captive"—
" Caroline, b,ginning in a low, rather tremulous voice,
but gaining courage as she proceeded, repeated the sweet
verses of CLitaier; the last three stanzas she rehearsed
well.
" Moore listened at first with kis eyes cast down, but
soon he furtively raised them: leaning back in his chair,
he could watch CAI olive without her perceiving where his
gaze was fixed. ller cheek had a colour,
.her eyes a
light, her countenance an expression, this evening, which
would have made even plain features striking; but there
was not the grievous defect of plainness to pardon in her
case. The sunshine was not shed on rough barrenness;
it fell on soft bloom. Each lineament was turned with
grace; the whole aspect was pleasing. At the present
moment—animated, interested, touched—she might be
called beautiful. Such a face was calculated to awaken
not only the calm sentiment of esteem, the distant one
of admiration; but some feeling more tender, genial,
intimate: friendship, perhaps—affection, interest. When
she had finished she turned to Moore, and met his eye.
" Is that pretty u ell lapeated?' she inquired, smil-
ing like any happy, docile child.
" I really don't know.'
" Why don't you know? Rave you not listened?'
" Yes—and looked. You are fond of poetry, Line?'
4" When I meet with real poetry, I cannot rest till I
have learned it by heart, and so made it partly mine.'
" Mr. Moore now sat silent for several minutes. It
struck nine o'clock: Sarah entered and said that Mr.
lielstone's servant was come for Miss Caroline.
" "filen the evening is gone already,' she observed;
' and it will be long, I suppose, before I pass another
here.'
" Hortense had been for seen time nodding over her
knitting; fallen into a doze now, she made no response
to the remark.
" You would have no objection to come here oftener
of en evening?' ixquirt d Robert, as he took her folded
mantle from the side-table, where it still lay, and care-
fully wrapped it round her.
" I like to come here; but I have no desire to be in-