 of
whose mystic glitter I rarely permit even myself a glimpse. Good-day.«
    Caroline thus seemed to get a view of Shirley's character under a novel
aspect. Erelong, the prospect was renewed: it opened upon her.
    No sooner had she regained sufficient strength to bear a change of scene -
the excitement of a little society - than Miss Keeldar sued daily for her
presence at Fieldhead. Whether Shirley had become wearied of her honoured
relatives is not known: she did not say she was; but she claimed and retained
Caroline with an eagerness which proved that an addition to that worshipful
company was not unwelcome.
    The Sympsons were Church people: of course, the Rectors niece was received
by them with courtesy. Mr. Sympson proved to be a man of spotless
respectability, worrying temper, pious principles, and worldly views; his lady
was a very good woman, patient, kind, well-bred. She had been brought up on a
narrow system of views - starved on a few prejudices: a mere handful of bitter
herbs; a few preferences, soaked till their natural flavour was extracted, and
with no seasoning added in the cooking; some excellent principles, made up in a
stiff raised-crust of bigotry, difficult to digest: far too submissive was she
to complain of this diet, or to ask for a crumb beyond it.
    The daughters were an example to their sex. They were tall, with a Roman
nose a-piece. They had been educated faultlessly. All they did was well done.
History, and the most solid books, had cultivated their minds. Principles and
opinions they possessed which could not be mended. More exactly-regulated lives,
feelings, manners, habits, it would have been difficult to find anywhere. They
knew by heart a certain young-ladies'-school-room code of laws on language,
demeanour, etc.; themselves never deviated from its curious little pragmatical
provisions; and they regarded with secret, whispered horror, all deviations in
others. The Abomination of Desolation was no mystery to them: they had
discovered that unutterable Thing in the characteristic others call Originality.
Quick were they to recognise the signs of this evil; and wherever they saw its
trace - whether in look, word, or deed; whether they read it in the fresh,
vigorous style of a book, or listened to it in interesting, unhackneyed, pure,
expressive language - they shuddered - they recoiled: danger was above their
heads - peril about their steps. What was this strange Thing? Being
unintelligible, it must be bad. Let
