"They are cold—they are cowardly—they are stupid on the subject, Shirley! They never loved—they never were loved!"
"Thou art right, Lina. And in their dense ignorance they blaspheme living fire, seraph-brought from a divine altar."
"They confound it with sparks mounting from Tophet."
The sudden and joyous clash of bells here stopped the dialogue by summoning all to the church.
CHAPTER XVIII.
WHICH THE GENTEEL READER IS RECOMMENDED TO SKIP, LOW PERSONS BEING HERE INTRODUCED.
The evening was still and warm; close and sultry it even promised to become. Round the descending sun the clouds glowed purple; summer tints, rather Indian than English, suffused the horizon, and cast rosy reflections on hillside, house-front, tree-bole, on winding road and undulating pasture-ground. The two girls came down from the fields slowly. By the time they reached the churchyard the bells were hushed; the multitudes were gathered into the church. The whole scene was solitary.
"How pleasant and calm it is!" said Caroline.
"And how hot it will be in the church!" responded Shirley. "And what a dreary long speech Dr. Boultby will make! And how the curates will hammer over their prepared orations! For my part, I would rather not enter."