 is not my vocation. Did I not say I
prefer a master? One in whose presence I shall feel obliged and disposed to be
good. One whose control my impatient temper must acknowledge. A man whose
approbation can reward - whose displeasure punish me. A man I shall feel it
impossible not to love, and very possible to fear.«
    »What is there to hinder you from doing all this with Sir Philip? He is a
baronet; a man of rank, property, connexions, far above yours. If you talk of
intellect, he is a poet: he writes verses: which you, I take it, cannot do, with
all your cleverness.«
    »Neither his title, wealth, pedigree, nor poetry, avail to invest him with
the power I describe. These are featherweights: they want ballast: a measure of
sound, solid practical sense would have stood him in better stead with me.«
    »You and Henry rave about poetry: you used to catch fire like tinder on the
subject when you were a girl.«
    »Oh! uncle, there is nothing really valuable in this world, there is nothing
glorious in the world to come, that is not poetry!«
    »Marry a poet, then, in God's name!«
    »Show him me, and I will.«
    »Sir Philip.«
    »Not at all. You are almost as good a poet as he.«
    »Madam, you are wandering from the point.«
    »Indeed, uncle, I wanted to do so; and I shall be glad to lead you away with
me. Do not let us get out of temper with each other: it is not worth while.«
    »Out of temper, Miss Keeldar! I should be glad to know who is out of
temper?«
    »I am not, yet.«
    »If you mean to insinuate that I am, I consider that you are guilty of
impertinence.«
    »You will be soon, if you go on at that rate.«
    »There it is! With your pert tongue, you would try the patience of a Job.«
    »I know I should.«
    »No levity, Miss! This is not a laughing matter. It is an affair I am
resolved to probe thoroughly, convinced that there is mischief at the bottom.
You described just now, with far too much freedom for your years and sex, the
sort of individual you would prefer as a husband. - Pray, did you paint from the
life?«
    Shirley opened her lips;
