aspect—prettier than usual, as if some soft inward emotion—stirred who knows how?—had given new bloom and expression to her features.
"Shirley—Shirley, you ought to go," whispered Caroline.
"I wonder why?"
She lifted her eyes, and saw in the glass over the fireplace, both Mr. Hall and Louis Moore gazing at her gravely.
"If," she said, with a yielding smile—"if a majority of the present company maintain that the De Walden Hall people have claims on my civility, I will subdue my inclinations to my duty. Let those who think I ought to go, hold up their hands."
Again consulting the mirror, it reflected an unanimous vote against her.
"You must go," said Mr. Hall, "and behave courteously, too. You owe many duties to society. It is not permitted you to please only yourself."
Louis Moore assented with a low "Hear! hear!"
Caroline, approaching her, smoothed her wavy curls, gave to her attire a less artistic and more domestic grace, and Shirley was put out of the room, protesting still, by a pouting lip, against her dismissal.
"There is a curious charm about her," observed Mr. Hall, when she was gone. "And now," he added, "I must away, for Sweeting is off to see his mother, and there are two funerals."
