the number."

"You have an ill opinion of me, Miss Shirley. You never told me so much
of your mind before."

"I never had an opening. But I have sat on Jessy's stool by your chair
in the back-parlour at Briarmains, for evenings together, listening
excitedly to your talk, half admiring what you said, and half rebelling
against it. I think you a fine old Yorkshireman, sir. I am proud to have
been born in the same county and parish as yourself. Truthful, upright,
independent you are, as a rock based below seas; but also you are harsh,
rude, narrow, and merciless."

"Not to the poor, lass, nor to the meek of the earth; only to the proud
and high-minded."

"And what right have you, sir, to make such distinctions? A prouder, a
higher-minded man than yourself does not exist. You find it easy to
speak comfortably to your inferiors; you are too haughty, too ambitious,
too jealous to be civil to those above you. But you are all alike.
Helstone also is proud and prejudiced. Moore, though juster and more
considerate than either you or the rector, is still haughty, stern, and,
in a public sense, selfish. It is well there are such men as Mr. Hall to
be found occasionally--men of large and kind hearts, who can love their
whole race, who can forgive others for being richer, more prosperous, or
more powerful than they are. Such men may have less originality, less
force of character than you, but they are better friends to mankind."

"And when is it to be?" said Mr. Yorke, now rising.

"When is what to be?"

"The wedding."

"Whose wedding?"

"Only that of Robert Gerard Moore, Esq., of Hollow's Cottage, with Miss
Keeldar, daughter and heiress of the late Charles Cave Keeldar of
Fieldhead Hall."

Shirley gazed at the questioner with rising colour. But the light in her
eye was not faltering; it shone steadily--yes, it burned deeply.

"That is your revenge," she said slowly; then added, "Would it be a bad
match, unworthy of the late Charles Cave Keeldar's representative?"

"My lass, Moore is a gentleman; his blood is pure and ancient as mine or
thine."

"And we two set store by ancient blood? We have family pride, though one
of us at least is a republican?"

Yorke bowed as he stood before her. His lips were mute, but his eye
confessed the impeachment. Yes, he had family pride; you saw it in his
whole bearing.

"Moore _is_ a gentleman," echoed Shirley, lifting her head with glad
grace. She checked herself. Words seemed cr