s; look at your
royal dynasties! Your deity is the deity of foreign aristocracies;
analyze the blue blood of Spain! Your god is the Hymen of France; what
is French domestic life? All that surrounds him hastens to decay; all
declines and degenerates under his sceptre. _Your_ god is a masked
Death."

"This language is terrible! My daughters and you must associate no
longer, Miss Keeldar; there is danger in such companionship. Had I known
you a little earlier--but, extraordinary as I thought you, I could not
have believed----"

"Now, sir, do you begin to be aware that it is useless to scheme for me;
that in doing so you but sow the wind to reap the whirlwind? I sweep
your cobweb projects from my path, that I may pass on unsullied. I am
anchored on a resolve you cannot shake. My heart, my conscience shall
dispose of my hand--_they only_. Know this at last."

Mr. Sympson was becoming a little bewildered.

"Never heard such language!" he muttered again and again; "never was so
addressed in my life--never was so used!"

"You are quite confused, sir. You had better withdraw, or I will."

He rose hastily. "We must leave this place; they must pack up at once."

"Do not hurry my aunt and cousins; give them time."

"No more intercourse; she's not proper."

He made his way to the door. He came back for his handkerchief. He
dropped his snuff-box, leaving the contents scattered on the carpet; he
stumbled out. Tartar lay outside across the mat; Mr. Sympson almost fell
over him. In the climax of his exasperation he hurled an oath at the dog
and a coarse epithet at his mistress.

"Poor Mr. Sympson! he is both feeble and vulgar," said Shirley to
herself. "My head aches, and I am tired," she added; and leaning her
head upon a cushion, she softly subsided from excitement to repose. One,
entering the room a quarter of an hour afterwards, found her asleep.
When Shirley had been agitated, she generally took this natural
refreshment; it would come at her call.

The intruder paused in her unconscious presence, and said, "Miss
Keeldar."

Perhaps his voice harmonized with some dream into which she was passing.
It did not startle, it hardly roused her. Without opening her eyes, she
but turned her head a little, so that her cheek and profile, before
hidden by her arm, became visible. She looked rosy, happy, half smiling,
but her eyelashes were wet. She had wept in slumber; or perhaps, before
dropping asleep, a few natural tears had fa