Free Shirley by Charlotte Brontë Page A

to hell."
    "Nor have I forgotten, Mr. Yorke, that Vain-Confidence, not seeing the way before him, fell into a
    deep pit, which was on purpose there made by the prince of the grounds, to catch vainglorious fools
    withal, and was dashed to pieces with his fall."
    "Now," interposed Mr. Moore, who had hitherto sat a silent but amused spectator of this worldly combat, and whose indifference to the party politics of the day, as well as to the gossip of the neighbourhood, made him an impartial, if apathetic, judge of the merits of such an encounter, "you
    have both sufficiently blackballed each other, and proved how cordially you detest each other, and how wicked you think each other. For my part, my hate is still running in such a strong current against the fellows who have broken my frames that I have none to spare for my private acquaintance,
    and still less for such a vague thing as a sect or a government. But really, gentlemen, you both seem
    very bad by your own showing—worse than ever I suspected you to be.—I dare not stay all night with
    a rebel and blasphemer like you, Yorke; and I hardly dare ride home with a cruel and tyrannical ecclesiastic like Mr. Helstone."
    "I am going, however, Mr. Moore," said the rector sternly. "Come with me or not, as you please."
    "Nay, he shall not have the choice; he shall go with you," responded Yorke. "It's midnight, and past; and I'll have nob'dy staying up i' my house any longer. Ye mun all go."
    He rang the bell.
    "Deb," said he to the servant who answered it, "clear them folk out o' t' kitchen, and lock t' doors, and be off to bed.—Here is your way, gentlemen," he continued to his guests; and, lighting them through the passage, he fairly put them out at his front door.
    They met their party hurrying out pell-mell by the back way. Their horses stood at the gate; they
    mounted, and rode off, Moore laughing at their abrupt dismissal, Helstone deeply indignant thereat.
    Chapter 5
    HOLLOW'S COTTAGE.
    Moore's good spirits were still with him when he rose next morning. He and Joe Scott had both spent
    the night in the mill, availing themselves of certain sleeping accommodations producible from recesses in the front and back counting-houses. The master, always an early riser, was up somewhat
    sooner even than usual. He awoke his man by singing a French song as he made his toilet.
    "Ye're not custen dahn, then, maister?" cried Joe.
    "Not a stiver, mon garçon—which means, my lad. Get up, and we'll take a turn through the mill before the hands come in, and I'll explain my future plans. We'll have the machinery yet, Joseph. You
    never heard of Bruce, perhaps?"
    "And th' arrand (spider)? Yes, but I hev. I've read th' history o' Scotland, and happen knaw as mich on't as ye; and I understand ye to mean to say ye'll persevere."
    "I do."
    "Is there mony o' your mak' i' your country?" inquired Joe, as he folded up his temporary bed, and put it away.
    "In my country! Which is my country?"
    "Why, France—isn't it?"
    "Not it, indeed! The circumstance of the French having seized Antwerp, where I was born, does not
    make me a Frenchman."
    "Holland, then?"
    "I am not a Dutchman. Now you are confounding Antwerp with Amsterdam."
    "Flanders?"
    "I scorn the insinuation, Joe! I a Flamand! Have I a Flemish face—the clumsy nose standing out, the mean forehead falling back, the pale blue eyes 'à fleur de tête'? Am I all body and no legs, like a Flamand? But you don't know what they are like, those Netherlanders. Joe, I'm an Anversois. My mother was an Anversoise, though she came of French lineage, which is the reason I speak French."
    "But your father war Yorkshire, which maks ye a bit Yorkshire too; and onybody may see ye're akin to us, ye're so keen o' making brass, and getting forrards."
    "Joe, you're an impudent dog; but I've always been accustomed to a boorish sort of insolence from
    my youth up. The 'classe ouvrière'—that is, the working people in Belgium—bear themselves brutally
    towards their