"I was not in the humour," replied Miss Helstone, very truly.
Shirley had already fixed on her a penetrating eye.
"No," she said; "I see you are not in the humour for loving me: you are in one of your sunless, inclement moods, when one feels a fellow-creature's presence is not welcome to you. You have such moods: are you aware of it?"
"Do you mean to stay long, Shirley?"
"Yes: I am come to have my tea, and must have it before I go. I shall take the liberty then of removing my bonnet, without being asked."
And this she did, and then stood on the rug with her hands behind her.
"A pretty expression you have in your countenance," she went on, still gazing keenly, though not inimically, rather indeed pityingly at Caroline. "Wonderfully self-supported you look, you solitude-seeking, wounded deer. Are you afraid Shirley will worry you, if she discovers that you are hurt, and that you bleed?"
"I never do fear Shirley."
"But sometimes you dislike her: often you avoid her. Shirley can feel when she is slighted and shunned. If you had not walked home in the company you did last night, you would have been a different girl to-day. What time did you reach the Rectory?"
"By ten."
"Humph! You took three-quarters of an hour
