you, of course?"
"Nor wish it."
"Ah!" said the monitress, shaking her head and heaving a deep sigh. With this ejaculation, indicative that she perceived a screw to be loose somewhere, but that it was out of her reach to set it right, she
bent over her grammar, and sought the rule and exercise for the day.
"I suppose I am not an affectionate man, Caroline. The attachment of a very few suffices me."
"If you please, Robert, will you mend me a pen or two before you go?"
"First let me rule your book, for you always contrive to draw the lines aslant. There now. And now
for the pens. You like a fine one, I think?"
"Such as you generally make for me and Hortense; not your own broad points."
"If I were of Louis's calling I might stay at home and dedicate this morning to you and your studies, whereas I must spend it in Skyes's wool-warehouse."
"You will be making money."
"More likely losing it."
As he finished mending the pens, a horse, saddled and bridled, was brought up to the garden-gate.
"There, Fred is ready for me; I must go. I'll take one look to see what the spring has done in the
south border, too, first."
He quitted the room, and went out into the garden ground behind the mill. A sweet fringe of young
verdure and opening flowers—snowdrop, crocus, even primrose—bloomed in the sunshine under the
hot wall of the factory Moore plucked here and there a blossom and leaf, till he had collected a little
bouquet. He returned to the parlour, pilfered a thread of silk from his sister's work-basket, tied the flowers, and laid them on Caroline's desk.
"Now, good-morning."
"Thank you, Robert. It is pretty; it looks, as it lies there, like sparkles of sunshine and blue sky.
Good-morning."
He went to the door, stopped, opened his lips as if to speak, said nothing, and moved on. He passed
through the wicket, and mounted his horse. In a second he had flung himself from his saddle again,
transferred the reins to Murgatroyd, and re-entered the cottage.
"I forgot my gloves," he said, appearing to take something from the side-table; then, as an impromptu thought, he remarked, "You have no binding engagement at home perhaps, Caroline?"
"I never have. Some children's socks, which Mrs. Ramsden has ordered, to knit for the Jew's basket; but they will keep."
"Jew's basket be—sold! Never was utensil better named. Anything more Jewish than it—its contents
and their prices—cannot be conceived. But I see something, a very tiny curl, at the corners of your
lip, which tells me that you know its merits as well as I do. Forget the Jew's basket, then, and spend the day here as a change. Your uncle won't break his heart at your absence?"
She smiled. "No."
"The old Cossack! I dare say not," muttered Moore.
"Then stay and dine with Hortense; she will be glad of your company. I shall return in good time.
We will have a little reading in the evening. The moon rises at half-past eight, and I will walk up to the rectory with you at nine. Do you agree?"
She nodded her head, and her eyes lit up.
Moore lingered yet two minutes. He bent over Caroline's desk and glanced at her grammar, he fingered her pen, he lifted her bouquet and played with it; his horse stamped impatient; Fred Murgatroyd hemmed and coughed at the gate, as if he wondered what in the world his master was doing. "Good-morning," again said Moore, and finally vanished.
Hortense, coming in ten minutes after, found, to her surprise, that Caroline had not yet commenced
her exercise.
Chapter 6
CORIOLANUS.
Mademoiselle Moore had that morning a somewhat absent-minded pupil. Caroline forgot, again and
again, the explanations which were given to her. However, she still bore with unclouded mood the chidings her inattention brought upon her. Sitting in the sunshine near the window, she seemed to receive with its warmth a kind influence, which made her both happy and good. Thus disposed, she
looked her best, and her best was a pleasing vision.
To her had not been
"Nor wish it."
"Ah!" said the monitress, shaking her head and heaving a deep sigh. With this ejaculation, indicative that she perceived a screw to be loose somewhere, but that it was out of her reach to set it right, she
bent over her grammar, and sought the rule and exercise for the day.
"I suppose I am not an affectionate man, Caroline. The attachment of a very few suffices me."
"If you please, Robert, will you mend me a pen or two before you go?"
"First let me rule your book, for you always contrive to draw the lines aslant. There now. And now
for the pens. You like a fine one, I think?"
"Such as you generally make for me and Hortense; not your own broad points."
"If I were of Louis's calling I might stay at home and dedicate this morning to you and your studies, whereas I must spend it in Skyes's wool-warehouse."
"You will be making money."
"More likely losing it."
As he finished mending the pens, a horse, saddled and bridled, was brought up to the garden-gate.
"There, Fred is ready for me; I must go. I'll take one look to see what the spring has done in the
south border, too, first."
He quitted the room, and went out into the garden ground behind the mill. A sweet fringe of young
verdure and opening flowers—snowdrop, crocus, even primrose—bloomed in the sunshine under the
hot wall of the factory Moore plucked here and there a blossom and leaf, till he had collected a little
bouquet. He returned to the parlour, pilfered a thread of silk from his sister's work-basket, tied the flowers, and laid them on Caroline's desk.
"Now, good-morning."
"Thank you, Robert. It is pretty; it looks, as it lies there, like sparkles of sunshine and blue sky.
Good-morning."
He went to the door, stopped, opened his lips as if to speak, said nothing, and moved on. He passed
through the wicket, and mounted his horse. In a second he had flung himself from his saddle again,
transferred the reins to Murgatroyd, and re-entered the cottage.
"I forgot my gloves," he said, appearing to take something from the side-table; then, as an impromptu thought, he remarked, "You have no binding engagement at home perhaps, Caroline?"
"I never have. Some children's socks, which Mrs. Ramsden has ordered, to knit for the Jew's basket; but they will keep."
"Jew's basket be—sold! Never was utensil better named. Anything more Jewish than it—its contents
and their prices—cannot be conceived. But I see something, a very tiny curl, at the corners of your
lip, which tells me that you know its merits as well as I do. Forget the Jew's basket, then, and spend the day here as a change. Your uncle won't break his heart at your absence?"
She smiled. "No."
"The old Cossack! I dare say not," muttered Moore.
"Then stay and dine with Hortense; she will be glad of your company. I shall return in good time.
We will have a little reading in the evening. The moon rises at half-past eight, and I will walk up to the rectory with you at nine. Do you agree?"
She nodded her head, and her eyes lit up.
Moore lingered yet two minutes. He bent over Caroline's desk and glanced at her grammar, he fingered her pen, he lifted her bouquet and played with it; his horse stamped impatient; Fred Murgatroyd hemmed and coughed at the gate, as if he wondered what in the world his master was doing. "Good-morning," again said Moore, and finally vanished.
Hortense, coming in ten minutes after, found, to her surprise, that Caroline had not yet commenced
her exercise.
Chapter 6
CORIOLANUS.
Mademoiselle Moore had that morning a somewhat absent-minded pupil. Caroline forgot, again and
again, the explanations which were given to her. However, she still bore with unclouded mood the chidings her inattention brought upon her. Sitting in the sunshine near the window, she seemed to receive with its warmth a kind influence, which made her both happy and good. Thus disposed, she
looked her best, and her best was a pleasing vision.
To her had not been
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