are unattractive and inelegant or not? Provided only they are
decent, decorous, and neat, it is enough. The utmost which ought to be
required of old maids, in the way of appearance, is that they should not
absolutely offend men's eyes as they pass them in the street; for the
rest, they should be allowed, without too much scorn, to be as absorbed,
grave, plain-looking, and plain-dressed as they please."

"You might be an old maid yourself, Caroline, you speak so earnestly."

"I shall be one. It is my destiny. I will never marry a Malone or a
Sykes; and no one else will ever marry me."

Here fell a long pause. Shirley broke it. Again the name by which she
seemed bewitched was almost the first on her lips.

"Lina--did not Moore call you Lina sometimes?"

"Yes. It is sometimes used as the abbreviation of Caroline in his native
country."

"Well, Lina, do you remember my one day noticing an inequality in your
hair--a curl wanting on that right side--and your telling me that it was
Robert's fault, as he had once cut therefrom a long lock?"

"Yes."

"If he is, and always was, as indifferent to you as you say, why did he
steal your hair?"

"I don't know--yes, I do. It was my doing, not his. Everything of that
sort always was my doing. He was going from home--to London, as usual;
and the night before he went, I had found in his sister's workbox a lock
of black hair--a short, round curl. Hortense told me it was her
brother's, and a keepsake. He was sitting near the table. I looked at
his head. He has plenty of hair; on the temples were many such round
curls. I thought he could spare me one. I knew I should like to have it,
and I asked for it. He said, on condition that he might have his choice
of a tress from my head. So he got one of my long locks of hair, and I
got one of his short ones. I keep his, but I dare say he has lost mine.
It was my doing, and one of those silly deeds it distresses the heart
and sets the face on fire to think of; one of those small but sharp
recollections that return, lacerating your self-respect like tiny
penknives, and forcing from your lips, as you sit alone, sudden,
insane-sounding interjections."

"Caroline!"

"I _do_ think myself a fool, Shirley, in some respects; I _do_ despise
myself. But I said I would not make you my confessor, for you cannot
reciprocate foible for foible; you are not weak. How steadily you watch
me now! Turn aside your clear, strong, she-eagle eye; it is an insu