 attachment to his pupil constituted an additional motive for
concession; and probably he had a third motive, stronger than either of the
other two: probably he would have found it very hard indeed to leave Fieldhead
just now.
    Things went on, for some time, pretty smoothly: Miss Keeldar's health was
re-established; her spirits resumed their flow: Moore had found means to relieve
her from every nervous apprehension; and, indeed, from the moment of giving him
her confidence, every fear seemed to have taken wing: her heart became as
lightsome, her manner as careless, as those of a little child, that, thoughtless
of its own life or death, trusts all responsibility to its parents. He and
William Farren - through whose medium he made inquiries concerning the state of
Phoebe - agreed in asserting that the dog was not mad: that it was only
ill-usage which had driven her from home: for it was proved that her master was
in the frequent habit of chastising her violently. Their assertion might, or
might not, be true: the groom and gamekeeper affirmed to the contrary; both
asserting that, if hers was not a clear case of hydrophobia, there was no such
disease. But to this evidence Louis Moore turned an incredulous ear: he reported
to Shirley only what was encouraging: she believed him; and, right or wrong, it
is certain that in her case the bite proved innocuous.
    November passed; December came: the Sympsons were now really departing; it
was incumbent on them to be at home by Christmas; their packages were preparing;
they were to leave in a few days. One winter evening, during the last week of
their stay, Louis Moore again took out his little blank book, and discoursed
with it as follows: -
 
»She is lovelier than ever. Since that little cloud was dispelled, all the
temporary waste and wanness have vanished. It was marvellous to see how soon the
magical energy of youth raised her elastic, and revived her blooming.
    After breakfast this morning, when I had seen her, and listened to her, and
- so to speak - felt her, in every sentient atom of my frame, I passed from her
sunny presence into the chill drawing-room. Taking up a little gilt volume, I
found it to contain a selection of lyrics. I read a poem or two: whether the
spell was in me or in the verse, I know not, but my heart filled genially - my
pulse rose: I glowed, notwithstanding the frost-air. I, too, am young
