lt to
fix it on me thus."

"What a study of character you are--weak, certainly, but not in the
sense you think!--Come in!"

This was said in answer to a tap at the door. Miss Keeldar happened to
be near it at the moment, Caroline at the other end of the room. She saw
a note put into Shirley's hands, and heard the words, "From Mr. Moore,
ma'am."

"Bring candles," said Miss Keeldar.

Caroline sat expectant.

"A communication on business," said the heiress; but when candles were
brought, she neither opened nor read it. The rector's Fanny was
presently announced, and the rector's niece went home.

CHAPTER XIII.

FURTHER COMMUNICATIONS ON BUSINESS.

In Shirley's nature prevailed at times an easy indolence. There were
periods when she took delight in perfect vacancy of hand and
eye--moments when her thoughts, her simple existence, the fact of the
world being around and heaven above her, seemed to yield her such
fullness of happiness that she did not need to lift a finger to increase
the joy. Often, after an active morning, she would spend a sunny
afternoon in lying stirless on the turf, at the foot of some tree of
friendly umbrage. No society did she need but that of Caroline, and it
sufficed if she were within call; no spectacle did she ask but that of
the deep blue sky, and such cloudlets as sailed afar and aloft across
its span; no sound but that of the bee's hum, the leaf's whisper. Her
sole book in such hours was the dim chronicle of memory or the sibyl
page of anticipation. From her young eyes fell on each volume a glorious
light to read by; round her lips at moments played a smile which
revealed glimpses of the tale or prophecy. It was not sad, not dark.
Fate had been benign to the blissful dreamer, and promised to favour her
yet again. In her past were sweet passages, in her future rosy hopes.

Yet one day when Caroline drew near to rouse her, thinking she had lain
long enough, behold, as she looked down, Shirley's cheek was wet as if
with dew; those fine eyes of hers shone humid and brimming.

"Shirley, why do _you_ cry?" asked Caroline, involuntarily laying stress
on _you_.

Miss Keeldar smiled, and turned her picturesque head towards the
questioner. "Because it pleases me mightily to cry," she said. "My heart
is both sad and glad. But why, you good, patient child--why do you not
bear me company? I only weep tears, delightful and soon wiped away; you
might weep gall, if you choose."

"Why sh