had a careless way of lingering behind time, and
Caroline knew her uncle would not wait a second for any one. At the
moment of the church clock tolling two, the bells would clash out and
the march begin. She must look after Shirley, then, in this matter, or
her expected companion would fail her.

Whit-Tuesday saw her rise almost with the sun. She, Fanny, and Eliza
were busy the whole morning arranging the rectory parlours in first-rate
company order, and setting out a collation of cooling
refreshments--wine, fruit, cakes--on the dining-room sideboard. Then she
had to dress in her freshest and fairest attire of white muslin: the
perfect fineness of the day and the solemnity of the occasion warranted,
and even exacted, such costume. Her new sash--a birthday present from
Margaret Hall, which she had reason to believe Cyril himself had bought,
and in return for which she had indeed given him a set of cambric bands
in a handsome case--was tied by the dexterous fingers of Fanny, who took
no little pleasure in arraying her fair young mistress for the occasion.
Her simple bonnet had been trimmed to correspond with her sash; her
pretty but inexpensive scarf of white crape suited her dress. When ready
she formed a picture, not bright enough to dazzle, but fair enough to
interest; not brilliantly striking, but very delicately pleasing--a
picture in which sweetness of tint, purity of air, and grace of mien
atoned for the absence of rich colouring and magnificent contour. What
her brown eye and clear forehead showed of her mind was in keeping with
her dress and face--modest, gentle, and, though pensive, harmonious. It
appeared that neither lamb nor dove need fear her, but would welcome
rather, in her look of simplicity and softness, a sympathy with their
own natures, or with the natures we ascribe to them.

After all, she was an imperfect, faulty human being, fair enough of
form, hue, and array, but, as Cyril Hall said, neither so good nor so
great as the withered Miss Ainley, now putting on her best black gown
and Quaker drab shawl and bonnet in her own narrow cottage chamber.

Away Caroline went, across some very sequestered fields and through some
quite hidden lanes, to Fieldhead. She glided quickly under the green
hedges and across the greener leas. There was no dust, no moisture, to
soil the hem of her stainless garment, or to damp her slender sandal.
After the late rains all was clean, and under the present glowing sun
all w