elinquishing her power, of sharing her property."

"Shirley has hurt your _amour propre_."

"She did hurt it; though I had not an emotion of tenderness, nor a spark
of passion for her."

"Then, Robert, it was very wicked in you to want to marry her."

"And very mean, my little pastor, my pretty priestess. I never wanted to
kiss Miss Keeldar in my life, though she has fine lips, scarlet and
round as ripe cherries; or, if I did wish it, it was the mere desire of
the eye."

"I doubt, now, whether you are speaking the truth. The grapes or the
cherries are sour--'hung too high.'"

"She has a pretty figure, a pretty face, beautiful hair. I acknowledge
all her charms and feel none of them, or only feel them in a way she
would disdain. I suppose I was truly tempted by the mere gilding of the
bait. Caroline, what a noble fellow your Robert is--great, good,
disinterested, and then so pure!"

"But not perfect. He made a great blunder once, and we will hear no more
about it."

"And shall we think no more about it, Cary? Shall we not despise him in
our heart--gentle but just, compassionate but upright?"

"Never! We will remember that with what measure we mete it shall be
measured unto us, and so we will give no scorn, only affection."

"Which won't satisfy, I warn you of that. Something besides
affection--something far stronger, sweeter, warmer--will be demanded one
day. Is it there to give?"

Caroline was moved, much moved.

"Be calm, Lina," said Moore soothingly. "I have no intention, because I
have no right, to perturb your mind now, nor for months to come. Don't
look as if you would leave me. We will make no more agitating allusions;
we will resume our gossip. Do not tremble; look me in the face. See what
a poor, pale, grim phantom I am--more pitiable than formidable."

She looked shyly. "There is something formidable still, pale as you
are," she said, as her eye fell under his.

"To return to Shirley," pursued Moore: "is it your opinion that she is
ever likely to marry?"

"She loves."

"Platonically--theoretically--all humbug!"

"She loves what I call sincerely."

"Did she say so?"

"I cannot affirm that she said so. No such confession as 'I love this
man or that' passed her lips."

"I thought not."

"But the feeling made its way in spite of her, and I saw it. She spoke
of one man in a strain not to be misunderstood. Her voice alone was
sufficient testimony. Having wrung from her an opinion on your