Shirley

by Charlotte Bronte

  CHAPTER XX.

  TO-MORROW.

  The two girls met no living soul on their way back to the rectory. Theylet themselves in noiselessly; they stole upstairs unheard--the breakingmorning gave them what light they needed. Shirley sought her couchimmediately; and though the room was strange--for she had never slept atthe rectory before--and though the recent scene was one unparalleled forexcitement and terror by any it had hitherto been her lot to witness,yet scarce was her head laid on the pillow ere a deep, refreshing sleepclosed her eyes and calmed her senses.

  Perfect health was Shirley's enviable portion. Though warm-hearted andsympathetic, she was not nervous; powerful emotions could rouse and swaywithout exhausting her spirit. The tempest troubled and shook her whileit lasted, but it left her elasticity unbent, and her freshness quiteunblighted. As every day brought her stimulating emotion, so every nightyielded her recreating rest. Caroline now watched her sleeping, and readthe serenity of her mind in the beauty of her happy countenance.

  For herself, being of a different temperament, she could not sleep. Thecommonplace excitement of the tea-drinking and school-gathering wouldalone have sufficed to make her restless all night; the effect of theterrible drama which had just been enacted before her eyes was notlikely to quit her for days. It was vain even to try to retain arecumbent posture; she sat up by Shirley's side, counting the slowminutes, and watching the June sun mount the heavens.

  Life wastes fast in such vigils as Caroline had of late but too oftenkept--vigils during which the mind, having no pleasant food to nourishit, no manna of hope, no hived-honey of joyous memories, tries to liveon the meagre diet of wishes, and failing to derive thence eitherdelight or support, and feeling itself ready to perish with cravingwant, turns to philosophy, to resolution, to resignation; calls on allthese gods for aid, calls vainly--is unheard, unhelped, and languishes.

  Caroline was a Christian; therefore in trouble she framed many a prayerafter the Christian creed, preferred it with deep earnestness, beggedfor patience, strength, relief. This world, however, we all know, is thescene of trial and probation; and, for any favourable result herpetitions had yet wrought, it seemed to her that they were unheard andunaccepted. She believed, sometimes, that God had turned His face fromher. At moments she was a Calvinist, and, sinking into the gulf ofreligious despair, she saw darkening over her the doom of reprobation.

  Most people have had a period or periods in their lives when they havefelt thus forsaken--when, having long hoped against hope, and still seenthe day of fruition deferred, their hearts have truly sickened withinthem. This is a terrible hour, but it is often that darkest point whichprecedes the rise of day--that turn of the year when the icy Januarywind carries over the waste at once the dirge of departing winter andthe prophecy of coming spring. The perishing birds, however, cannot thusunderstand the blast before which they shiver; and as little can thesuffering soul recognize, in the climax of its affliction, the dawn ofits deliverance. Yet, let whoever grieves still cling fast to love andfaith in God. God will never deceive, never finally desert him. "Whom Heloveth, He chasteneth." These words are true, and should not beforgotten.

  The household was astir at last; the servants were up; the shutters wereopened below. Caroline, as she quitted the couch, which had been but athorny one to her, felt that revival of spirits which the return of day,of action, gives to all but the wholly despairing or actually dying. Shedressed herself, as usual, carefully, trying so to arrange her hair andattire that nothing of the forlornness she felt at heart should bevisible externally. She looked as fresh as Shirley when both weredressed, only that Miss Keeldar's eyes were lively, and Miss Helstone'slanguid.

  "To-day I shall have much to say to Moore," were Shirley's first words;and you could see in her face that life was full of interest,expectation, and occupation for her. "He will have to undergocross-examination," she added. "I dare say he thinks he has outwitted mecleverly. And this is the way men deal with women--still concealingdanger from them--thinking, I suppose, to spare them pain. Theyimagined we little knew where they were to-night. We _know_ they littleconjectured where we were. Men, I believe, fancy women's minds somethinglike those of children. Now, that is a mistake."

  This was said as she stood at the glass, training her naturally wavedhair into curls, by twining it round her fingers. She took up the themeagain five minutes after, as Caroline fastened her dress and clasped hergirdle.

  "If men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed;but the cleverest, the acutest men are often under an illusion aboutwomen. They do not read them in a true light; they misapprehend them,both for good and evil. Their good woman is a queer thing, half doll,half angel; their bad woman almost always a fiend. Then to hear themfall into ecstasies with each other's creations--worshipping the heroineof such a poem, novel, drama--thinking it fine, divine! Fine and divineit may be, but often quite artificial--false as the rose in my bestbonnet there. If I spoke all I think on this point, if I gave my realopinion of some first-rate female characters in first-rate works, whereshould I be? Dead under a cairn of avenging stones in half an hour."

  "Shirley, you chatter so, I can't fasten you. Be still. And, after all,authors' heroines are almost as good as authoresses' heroes."

  "Not at all. Women read men more truly than men read women. I'll provethat in a magazine paper some day when I've time; only it will never beinserted. It will be 'declined with thanks,' and left for me at thepublisher's."

  "To be sure. You could not write cleverly enough. You don't know enough.You are not learned, Shirley."

  "God knows I can't contradict you, Cary; I'm as ignorant as a stone.There's one comfort, however: you are not much better."

  They descended to breakfast.

  "I wonder how Mrs. Pryor and Hortense Moore have passed the night," saidCaroline, as she made the coffee. "Selfish being that I am, I neverthought of either of them till just now. They will have heard all thetumult, Fieldhead and the cottage are so near; and Hortense is timid insuch matters--so, no doubt, is Mrs. Pryor."

  "Take my word for it, Lina, Moore will have contrived to get his sisterout of the way. She went home with Miss Mann. He will have quarteredher there for the night. As to Mrs. Pryor, I own I am uneasy about her;but in another half-hour we will be with her."

  By this time the news of what had happened at the Hollow was spread allover the neighbourhood. Fanny, who had been to Fieldhead to fetch themilk, returned in panting haste with tidings that there had been abattle in the night at Mr. Moore's mill, and that some said twenty menwere killed. Eliza, during Fanny's absence, had been apprised by thebutcher's boy that the mill was burnt to the ground. Both women rushedinto the parlour to announce these terrible facts to the ladies,terminating their clear and accurate narrative by the assertion thatthey were sure master must have been in it all. He and Thomas, theclerk, they were confident, must have gone last night to join Mr. Mooreand the soldiers. Mr. Malone, too, had not been heard of at his lodgingssince yesterday afternoon; and Joe Scott's wife and family were in thegreatest distress, wondering what had become of their head.

  Scarcely was this information imparted when a knock at the kitchen doorannounced the Fieldhead errand-boy, arrived in hot haste, bearing abillet from Mrs. Pryor. It was hurriedly written, and urged Miss Keeldarto return directly, as the neighbourhood and the house seemed likely tobe all in confusion, and orders would have to be given which themistress of the hall alone could regulate. In a postscript it wasentreated that Miss Helstone might not be left alone at the rectory. Shehad better, it was suggested, accompany Miss Keeldar.

  "There are not two opinions on that head," said Shirley, as she tied onher own bonnet, and then ran to fetch Caroline's.

  "But what will Fanny and Eliza do? And if my uncle returns?"

  "Your uncle will not return yet; he has other fish to fry. He will begalloping backwards and forwards from Briarfield to Stilbro' all day,rousing the magistrates in the court-house and the officers at thebarracks; and Fanny an
d Eliza can have in Joe Scott's and the clerk'swives to bear them company. Besides, of course, there is no real dangerto be apprehended now. Weeks will elapse before the rioters can againrally, or plan any other attempt; and I am much mistaken if Moore andMr. Helstone will not take advantage of last night's outbreak to quellthem altogether. They will frighten the authorities of Stilbro' intoenergetic measures. I only hope they will not be too severe--not pursuethe discomfited too relentlessly."

  "Robert will not be cruel. We saw that last night," said Caroline.

  "But he will be hard," retorted Shirley; "and so will your uncle."

  As they hurried along the meadow and plantation path to Fieldhead, theysaw the distant highway already alive with an unwonted flow ofequestrians and pedestrians, tending in the direction of the usuallysolitary Hollow. On reaching the hall, they found the backyard gatesopen, and the court and kitchen seemed crowded with excitedmilk-fetchers--men, women, and children--whom Mrs. Gill, thehousekeeper, appeared vainly persuading to take their milk-cans anddepart. (It _is_, or _was_, by-the-bye, the custom in the north ofEngland for the cottagers on a country squire's estate to receive theirsupplies of milk and butter from the dairy of the manor house, on whosepastures a herd of milch kine was usually fed for the convenience of theneighbourhood. Miss Keeldar owned such a herd--all deep-dewlapped,Craven cows, reared on the sweet herbage and clear waters of bonnyAiredale; and very proud she was of their sleek aspect and highcondition.) Seeing now the state of matters, and that it was desirableto effect a clearance of the premises, Shirley stepped in amongst thegossiping groups. She bade them good-morning with a certain frank,tranquil ease--the natural characteristic of her manner when sheaddressed numbers, especially if those numbers belonged to theworking-class; she was cooler amongst her equals, and rather proud tothose above her. She then asked them if they had all got their milkmeasured out; and understanding that they had, she further observed thatshe "wondered what they were waiting for, then."

  "We're just talking a bit over this battle there has been at your mill,mistress," replied a man.

  "Talking a bit! Just like you!" said Shirley. "It is a queer thing allthe world is so fond of _talking_ over events. You _talk_ if anybodydies suddenly; you _talk_ if a fire breaks out; you _talk_ if amill-owner fails; you _talk_ if he's murdered. What good does yourtalking do?"

  There is nothing the lower orders like better than a little downrightgood-humoured rating. Flattery they scorn very much; honest abuse theyenjoy. They call it speaking plainly, and take a sincere delight inbeing the objects thereof. The homely harshness of Miss Keeldar'ssalutation won her the ear of the whole throng in a second.

  "We're no war nor some 'at is aboon us, are we?" asked a man, smiling.

  "Nor a whit better. You that should be models of industry are just asgossip-loving as the idle. Fine, rich people that have nothing to do maybe partly excused for trifling their time away; you who have to earnyour bread with the sweat of your brow are quite inexcusable."

  "That's queer, mistress. Suld we never have a holiday because we workhard?"

  "_Never_," was the prompt answer; "unless," added the "mistress," with asmile that half belied the severity of her speech--"unless you knew howto make a better use of it than to get together over rum and tea if youare women, or over beer and pipes if you are men, and _talk_ scandal atyour neighbours' expense. Come, friends," she added, changing at oncefrom bluntness to courtesy, "oblige me by taking your cans and goinghome. I expect several persons to call to-day, and it will beinconvenient to have the avenues to the house crowded."

  Yorkshire people are as yielding to persuasion as they are stubbornagainst compulsion. The yard was clear in five minutes.

  "Thank you, and good-bye to you, friends," said Shirley, as she closedthe gates on a quiet court.

  Now, let me hear the most refined of cockneys presume to find fault withYorkshire manners. Taken as they ought to be, the majority of the ladsand lasses of the West Riding are gentlemen and ladies, every inch ofthem. It is only against the weak affectation and futile pomposity of awould-be aristocrat they turn mutinous.

  Entering by the back way, the young ladies passed through the kitchen(or _house_, as the inner kitchen is called) to the hall. Mrs. Pryorcame running down the oak staircase to meet them. She was all unnerved;her naturally sanguine complexion was pale; her usually placid, thoughtimid, blue eye was wandering, unsettled, alarmed. She did not, however,break out into any exclamations, or hurried narrative of what hadhappened. Her predominant feeling had been in the course of the night,and was now this morning, a sense of dissatisfaction with herself thatshe could not feel firmer, cooler, more equal to the demands of theoccasion.

  "You are aware," she began with a trembling voice, and yet the mostconscientious anxiety to avoid exaggeration in what she was about tosay, "that a body of rioters has attacked Mr. Moore's mill to-night. Weheard the firing and confusion very plainly here; we none of us slept.It was a sad night. The house has been in great bustle all the morningwith people coming and going. The servants have applied to me for ordersand directions, which I really did not feel warranted in giving. Mr.Moore has, I believe, sent up for refreshments for the soldiers andothers engaged in the defence, for some conveniences also for thewounded. I could not undertake the responsibility of giving orders ortaking measures. I fear delay may have been injurious in some instances;but this is not my house. You were absent, my dear Miss Keeldar. Whatcould I do?"

  "Were no refreshments sent?" asked Shirley, while her countenance,hitherto so clear, propitious, and quiet, even while she was rating themilk-fetchers, suddenly turned dark and warm.

  "I think not, my dear."

  "And nothing for the wounded--no linen, no wine, no bedding?"

  "I think not. I cannot tell what Mrs. Gill did; but it seemed impossibleto me, at the moment, to venture to dispose of your property by sendingsupplies to soldiers. Provisions for a company of soldiers soundsformidable. How many there are I did not ask; but I could not think ofallowing them to pillage the house, as it were. I intended to do whatwas right, yet I did not see the case quite clearly, I own."

  "It lies in a nutshell, notwithstanding. These soldiers have riskedtheir lives in defence of my property: I suppose they have a right to mygratitude. The wounded are our fellow-creatures: I suppose we should aidthem.--Mrs. Gill!"

  She turned, and called in a voice more clear than soft. It rang throughthe thick oak of the hall and kitchen doors more effectually than abell's summons. Mrs. Gill, who was deep in bread-making, came with handsand apron in culinary case, not having dared to stop to rub the doughfrom the one or to shake the flour from the other. Her mistress hadnever called a servant in that voice save once before, and that was whenshe had seen from the window Tartar in full tug with two carriers' dogs,each of them a match for him in size, if not in courage, and theirmasters standing by, encouraging their animals, while hers wasunbefriended. Then indeed she had summoned John as if the Day ofJudgment were at hand. Nor had she waited for the said John's coming,but had walked out into the lane bonnetless, and after informing thecarriers that she held them far less of men than the three bruteswhirling and worrying in the dust before them, had put her hands roundthe thick neck of the largest of the curs, and given her whole strengthto the essay of choking it from Tartar's torn and bleeding eye, justabove and below which organ the vengeful fangs were inserted. Five orsix men were presently on the spot to help her, but she never thankedone of them. "They might have come before if their will had been good,"she said. She had not a word for anybody during the rest of the day, butsat near the hall fire till evening watching and tending Tartar, who layall gory, stiff, and swelled on a mat at her feet. She wept furtivelyover him sometimes, and murmured the softest words of pity andendearment, in tones whose music the old, scarred, canine warrioracknowledged by licking her hand or her sandal alternately with his ownred wounds. As to John, his lady turned a cold shoulder on him for aweek afterwards.

  Mrs. Gill, remembering this little episode,
came "all of a tremble," asshe said herself. In a firm, brief voice Miss Keeldar proceeded to putquestions and give orders. That at such a time Fieldhead should haveevinced the inhospitality of a miser's hovel stung her haughty spirit tothe quick; and the revolt of its pride was seen in the heaving of herheart, stirred stormily under the lace and silk which veiled it.

  "How long is it since that message came from the mill?"

  "Not an hour yet, ma'am," answered the housekeeper soothingly.

  "Not an hour! You might almost as well have said not a day. They willhave applied elsewhere by this time. Send a man instantly down to tellthem that everything this house contains is at Mr. Moore's, Mr.Helstone's, and the soldiers' service. Do that first."

  While the order was being executed, Shirley moved away from her friends,and stood at the hall-window, silent, unapproachable. When Mrs. Gillcame back, she turned. The purple flush which painful excitement kindleson a pale cheek glowed on hers; the spark which displeasure lights in adark eye fired her glance.

  "Let the contents of the larder and the wine-cellar be brought up, putinto the hay-carts, and driven down to the Hollow. If there does nothappen to be much bread or much meat in the house, go to the butcher andbaker, and desire them to send what they have. But I will see formyself."

  She moved off.

  "All will be right soon; she will get over it in an hour," whisperedCaroline to Mrs. Pryor. "Go upstairs, dear madam," she addedaffectionately, "and try to be as calm and easy as you can. The truthis, Shirley will blame herself more than you before the day is over."

  By dint of a few more gentle assurances and persuasions, Miss Helstonecontrived to soothe the agitated lady. Having accompanied her to herapartment, and promised to rejoin her there when things were settled,Caroline left her to see, as she said, "if she could be useful." Shepresently found that she could be very useful; for the retinue ofservants at Fieldhead was by no means numerous, and just now theirmistress found plenty of occupation for all the hands at her command,and for her own also. The delicate good-nature and dexterous activitywhich Caroline brought to the aid of the housekeeper and maids--allsomewhat scared by their lady's unwonted mood--did a world of good atonce; it helped the assistants and appeased the directress. A chanceglance and smile from Caroline moved Shirley to an answering smiledirectly. The former was carrying a heavy basket up the cellar stairs.

  "This is a shame!" cried Shirley, running to her. "It will strain yourarm."

  She took it from her, and herself bore it out into the yard. The cloudof temper was dispelled when she came back; the flash in her eye wasmelted; the shade on her forehead vanished. She resumed her usualcheerful and cordial manner to those about her, tempering her revivedspirits with a little of the softness of shame at her previous unjustanger.

  She was still superintending the lading of the cart, when a gentlemanentered the yard and approached her ere she was aware of his presence.

  "I hope I see Miss Keeldar well this morning?" he said, examining withrather significant scrutiny her still flushed face.

  She gave him a look, and then again bent to her employment withoutreply. A pleasant enough smile played on her lips, but she hid it. Thegentleman repeated his salutation, stooping, that it might reach her earwith more facility.

  "Well enough, if she be good enough," was the answer; "and so is Mr.Moore too, I dare say. To speak truth, I am not anxious about him; someslight mischance would be only his just due. His conduct has been--wewill say _strange_ just now, till we have time to characterize it by amore exact epithet. Meantime, may I ask what brings him here?"

  "Mr. Helstone and I have just received your message that everything atFieldhead was at our service. We judged, by the unlimited wording of thegracious intimation, that you would be giving yourself too much trouble.I perceive our conjecture was correct. We are not a regiment,remember--only about half a dozen soldiers and as many civilians. Allowme to retrench something from these too abundant supplies."

  Miss Keeldar blushed, while she laughed at her own over-eager generosityand most disproportionate calculations. Moore laughed too, very quietlythough; and as quietly he ordered basket after basket to be taken fromthe cart, and remanded vessel after vessel to the cellar.

  "The rector must hear of this," he said; "he will make a good story ofit. What an excellent army contractor Miss Keeldar would have been!"Again he laughed, adding, "It is precisely as I conjectured."

  "You ought to be thankful," said Shirley, "and not mock me. What could Ido? How could I gauge your appetites or number your band? For aught Iknew, there might have been fifty of you at least to victual. You toldme nothing; and then an application to provision soldiers naturallysuggests large ideas."

  "It appears so," remarked Moore, levelling another of his keen, quietglances at the discomfited Shirley.--"Now," he continued, addressing thecarter, "I think you may take what remains to the Hollow. Your load willbe somewhat lighter than the one Miss Keeldar destined you to carry."

  As the vehicle rumbled out of the yard, Shirley, rallying her spirits,demanded what had become of the wounded.

  "There was not a single man hurt on our side," was the answer.

  "You were hurt yourself, on the temples," interposed a quick, lowvoice--that of Caroline, who, having withdrawn within the shade of thedoor, and behind the large person of Mrs. Gill, had till now escapedMoore's notice. When she spoke, his eye searched the obscurity of herretreat.

  "Are you much hurt?" she inquired.

  "As you might scratch your finger with a needle in sewing."

  "Lift your hair and let us see."

  He took his hat off, and did as he was bid, disclosing only a narrowslip of court-plaster. Caroline indicated, by a slight movement of thehead, that she was satisfied, and disappeared within the clear obscureof the interior.

  "How did she know I was hurt?" asked Moore.

  "By rumour, no doubt. But it is too good in her to trouble herself aboutyou. For my part, it was of your victims I was thinking when I inquiredafter the wounded. What damage have your opponents sustained?"

  "One of the rioters, or victims as you call them, was killed, and sixwere hurt."

  "What have you done with them?"

  "What you will perfectly approve. Medical aid was procured immediately;and as soon as we can get a couple of covered wagons and some cleanstraw, they will be removed to Stilbro'."

  "Straw! You must have beds and bedding. I will send my wagon directly,properly furnished; and Mr. Yorke, I am sure, will send his."

  "You guess correctly; he has volunteered already. And Mrs. Yorke--who,like you, seems disposed to regard the rioters as martyrs, and me, andespecially Mr. Helstone, as murderers--is at this moment, I believe,most assiduously engaged in fitting it up with feather-beds, pillows,bolsters, blankets, etc. The _victims_ lack no attentions, I promiseyou. Mr. Hall, your favourite parson, has been with them ever since sixo'clock, exhorting them, praying with them, and even waiting on themlike any nurse; and Caroline's good friend, Miss Ainley, that _very_plain old maid, sent in a stock of lint and linen, something in theproportion of another lady's allowance of beef and wine."

  "That will do. Where is your sister?"

  "Well cared for. I had her securely domiciled with Miss Mann. This verymorning the two set out for Wormwood Wells [a noted watering-place],and will stay there some weeks."

  "So Mr. Helstone domiciled me at the rectory! Mighty clever yougentlemen think you are! I make you heartily welcome to the idea, andhope its savour, as you chew the cud of reflection upon it, gives youpleasure. Acute and astute, why are you not also omniscient? How is itthat events transpire, under your very noses, of which you have nosuspicion? It should be so, otherwise the exquisite gratification ofoutmanoeuvring you would be unknown. Ah, friend, you may search mycountenance, but you cannot read it."

  Moore, indeed, looked as if he could not.

  "You think me a dangerous specimen of my sex. Don't you now?"

  "A peculiar one, at least."

  "But
Caroline--is she peculiar?"

  "In her way--yes."

  "Her way! What is her way?"

  "You know her as well as I do."

  "And knowing her, I assert that she is neither eccentric nor difficultof control. Is she?"

  "That depends----"

  "However, there is nothing masculine about _her_?"

  "Why lay such emphasis on _her_? Do you consider her a contrast, in thatrespect, to yourself?"

  "You do, no doubt; but that does not signify. Caroline is neithermasculine, nor of what they call the spirited order of women."

  "I have seen her flash out."

  "So have I, but not with manly fire. It was a short, vivid, tremblingglow, that shot up, shone, vanished----"

  "And left her scared at her own daring. You describe others besidesCaroline."

  "The point I wish to establish is, that Miss Helstone, though gentle,tractable, and candid enough, is still perfectly capable of defying evenMr. Moore's penetration."

  "What have you and she been doing?" asked Moore suddenly.

  "Have you had any breakfast?"

  "What is your mutual mystery?"

  "If you are hungry, Mrs. Gill will give you something to eat here. Stepinto the oak parlour, and ring the bell. You will be served as if at aninn; or, if you like better, go back to the Hollow."

  "The alternative is not open to me; I _must_ go back. Good-morning. Thefirst leisure I have I will see you again."