ce never touched on?"

"Because it never was," and Shirley laughed.

"You are a singular being!" observed her friend. "I thought I knew you
quite well; I begin to find myself mistaken. You were silent as the
grave about Mrs. Pryor, and now again here is another secret. But why
you made it a secret is the mystery to me."

"I never made it a secret; I had no reason for so doing. If you had
asked me who Henry's tutor was, I would have told you. Besides, I
thought you knew."

"I am puzzled about more things than one in this matter. You don't like
poor Louis. Why? Are you impatient at what you perhaps consider his
_servile_ position? Do you wish that Robert's brother were more highly
placed?"

"Robert's brother, indeed!" was the exclamation, uttered in a tone like
the accents of scorn; and with a movement of proud impatience Shirley
snatched a rose from a branch peeping through the open lattice.

"Yes," repeated Caroline, with mild firmness, "Robert's brother. He _is_
thus closely related to Gerard Moore of the Hollow, though nature has
not given him features so handsome or an air so noble as his kinsman;
but his blood is as good, and he is as much a gentleman were he free."

"Wise, humble, pious Caroline!" exclaimed Shirley ironically. "Men and
angels, hear her! We should not despise plain features, nor a laborious
yet honest occupation, should we? Look at the subject of your panegyric.
He is there in the garden," she continued, pointing through an aperture
in the clustering creepers; and by that aperture Louis Moore was
visible, coming slowly down the walk.

"He is not ugly, Shirley," pleaded Caroline; "he is not ignoble. He is
sad; silence seals his mind. But I believe him to be intelligent; and be
certain, if he had not something very commendable in his disposition,
Mr. Hall would never seek his society as he does."

Shirley laughed; she laughed again, each time with a slightly sarcastic
sound. "Well, well," was her comment. "On the plea of the man being
Cyril Hall's friend and Robert Moore's brother, we'll just tolerate his
existence; won't we, Cary? You believe him to be intelligent, do you?
Not quite an idiot--eh? Something commendable in his disposition!--_id
est_, not an absolute ruffian. Good! Your representations have weight
with me; and to prove that they have, should he come this way I will
speak to him."

He approached the summer-house. Unconscious that it was tenanted, he sat
down on the step. Tart