mantic ideas, you have managed to
train your features into an habitually lackadaisical expression, better
suited to a novel-heroine than to a woman who is to make her way in the
real world by dint of common sense?"

"No; I am not at all aware of that, Mrs. Yorke."

"Look in the glass just behind you. Compare the face you see there with
that of any early-rising, hard-working milkmaid."

"My face is a pale one, but it is _not_ sentimental; and most milkmaids,
however red and robust they may be, are more stupid and less practically
fitted to make their way in the world than I am. I think more, and more
correctly, than milkmaids in general do; consequently, where they would
often, for want of reflection, act weakly, I, by dint of reflection,
should act judiciously."

"Oh no! you would be influenced by your feelings; you would be guided by
impulse."

"Of course I should often be influenced by my feelings. They were given
me to that end. Whom my feelings teach me to love I _must_ and _shall_
love; and I hope, if ever I have a husband and children, my feelings
will induce me to love them. I hope, in that case, all my impulses will
be strong in compelling me to love."

Caroline had a pleasure in saying this with emphasis; she had a pleasure
in daring to say it in Mrs. Yorke's presence. She did not care what
unjust sarcasm might be hurled at her in reply. She flushed, not with
anger but excitement, when the ungenial matron answered coolly, "Don't
waste your dramatic effects. That was well said--it was quite fine; but
it is lost on two women--an old wife and an old maid. There should have
been a disengaged gentleman present.--Is Mr. Robert nowhere hid behind
the curtains, do you think, Miss Moore?"

Hortense, who during the chief part of the conversation had been in the
kitchen superintending the preparations for tea, did not yet quite
comprehend the drift of the discourse. She answered, with a puzzled air,
that Robert was at Whinbury. Mrs. Yorke laughed her own peculiar short
laugh.

"Straightforward Miss Moore!" said she patronizingly. "It is like you to
understand my question so literally and answer it so simply. _Your_ mind
comprehends nothing of intrigue. Strange things might go on around you
without your being the wiser; you are not of the class the world calls
sharp-witted."

These equivocal compliments did not seem to please Hortense. She drew
herself up, puckered her black eyebrows, but still looked puzzled.