le might, in some way, permanently provide for her. So her
friends thought, and, as far as their lights enabled them to see, they
reasoned correctly; but of Caroline's strange sufferings, which she
desired so eagerly to overcome or escape, they had no idea, of her
racked nights and dismal days no suspicion. It was at once impossible
and hopeless to explain; to wait and endure was her only plan. Many that
want food and clothing have cheerier lives and brighter prospects than
she had; many, harassed by poverty, are in a strait less afflictive.

"Now, is your mind quieted?" inquired Shirley. "Will you consent to stay
at home?"

"I shall not leave it against the approbation of my friends," was the
reply; "but I think in time they will be obliged to think as I do."

During this conversation Mrs. Pryor looked far from easy. Her extreme
habitual reserve would rarely permit her to talk freely or to
interrogate others closely. She could think a multitude of questions she
never ventured to put, give advice in her mind which her tongue never
delivered. Had she been alone with Caroline, she might possibly have
said something to the point: Miss Keeldar's presence, accustomed as she
was to it, sealed her lips. Now, as on a thousand other occasions,
inexplicable nervous scruples kept her back from interfering. She merely
showed her concern for Miss Helstone in an indirect way, by asking her
if the fire made her too warm, placing a screen between her chair and
the hearth, closing a window whence she imagined a draught proceeded,
and often and restlessly glancing at her. Shirley resumed: "Having
destroyed your plan," she said, "which I hope I have done, I shall
construct a new one of my own. Every summer I make an excursion. This
season I propose spending two months either at the Scotch lochs or the
English lakes--that is, I shall go there provided you consent to
accompany me. If you refuse, I shall not stir a foot."

"You are very good, Shirley."

"I would be very good if you would let me. I have every disposition to
be good. It is my misfortune and habit, I know, to think of myself
paramount to anybody else; but who is not like me in that respect?
However, when Captain Keeldar is made comfortable, accommodated with all
he wants, including a sensible, genial comrade, it gives him a thorough
pleasure to devote his spare efforts to making that comrade happy. And
should we not be happy, Caroline, in the Highlands? We will go to the
H