Chapter 17.6 - Shirley

Everybody talked, not very loudly, but merrily, and the canary birds sang shrill in their high-hung cages. Caroline, as the rector's niece, took her place at one of the three first tables. Mrs. Bolkby and Margaret Hall officiated at the others. At these tables, the elite of the company were to be entertained. Strict rules of equality not being more in fashion at Briarfield than elsewhere. Miss Helston removed her bonnet and scarf, that she might be less oppressed with the heat. Her long curls falling on her neck served almost in place of a veil, and for the rest, her muslin dress was fashioned modestly as a nun's robe, enabling her thus to dispense with the encumbrance of a shawl. The room was filling. Mr. Hall had taken his post beside Caroline, who now, as she rearranged the cups and spoons before her, whispered to him in a low voice remarks on the events of the day. He looked a little grave about what had taken place in Royd Lane, and she tried to smile him out of his seriousness. Miss Kildar sat near. For a wonder, neither laughing nor talking. On the contrary, very still, and gazing round her vigilantly. She seemed afraid, lest some intruder should take a seat she apparently wished to reserve her own. Ever and anon she spread her satin dress over an undue portion of the bench, or laid her gloves or her embroidered handkerchief upon it. Caroline noticed this manège at last, and asked her what friend she expected. Shirley bent towards her, almost touched her ear with her rosy lips, and whispered with a musical softness that often characterized her tones, when what she said tended even remotely to stir some sweet secret source of feeling in her heart. I expect Mr. Moore. I saw him last night, and I made him promise to come with his sister, and to sit at our table. He won't fail me, I feel certain, but I apprehend his coming too late, and being separated from us. Here is a fresh batch arriving. Every place will be taken. Provoking.