Shirley by Charlotte BrontĂ« (best books to read for teens .TXT) đ
Description
Shirley, published in 1849, was Charlotte BrontĂ«âs second novel after Jane Eyre. Published under her pseudonym of âCurrer Bell,â it differs in several respects from that earlier work. It is written in the third person with an omniscient narrator, rather than the first-person of Jane Eyre, and incorporates the themes of industrial change and the plight of unemployed workers. It also features strong pleas for the recognition of womenâs intellect and right to their independence of thought and action.
Set in the West Riding of Yorkshire during the Napoleonic period of the early 19th Century, the novel describes the confrontations between textile manufacturers and organized groups of workers protesting the introduction of mechanical looms. Three characters stand out: Robert Moore, a mill-owner determined to introduce modern methods despite sometimes violent opposition; his young cousin Caroline Helstone, who falls deeply in love with Robert; and Shirley Keeldar, a rich heiress who comes to live in the estate of Fieldhead, on whose land Robertâs mill stands. Robertâs business is in trouble, not so much because of the protests of the workers but because of a government decree which prevents him selling his finished cloth overseas during the duration of the war with Napoleon. He receives a loan from Miss Keeldar, and her interest in him seems to be becoming a romantic one, much to the distress of Caroline, who pines away for lack of any sign of affection from Robert.
Shirley Keeldar is a remarkable female character for the time: strong, very independent-minded, dismissive of much of the standard rules of society, and determined to decide on her own future. Interestingly, up to this point, the name âShirleyâ was almost entirely a male name; Shirleyâs parents had hoped for a boy. Such was the success of BrontĂ«âs novel, however, that it became increasingly popular as a female name and is now almost exclusively so.
Although never as popular or successful as the more classically romantic Jane Eyre, Shirley is nevertheless now highly regarded by critics.
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- Author: Charlotte Brontë
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âShe added words soon to looks.
âââI did respectâ âI did admireâ âI did like you,â she saidâ ââyes, as much as if you were my brother; and youâ âyou want to make a speculation of me. You would immolate me to that mill, your Moloch!â
âI had the common sense to abstain from any word of excuse, any attempt at palliation. I stood to be scorned.
âSold to the devil for the time being, I was certainly infatuated. When I did speak, what do you think I said?
âââWhatever my own feelings were, I was persuaded you loved me, Miss Keeldar.â
âBeautiful, was it not? She sat quite confounded. âIs it Robert Moore that speaks?â I heard her mutter. âIs it a manâ âor something lower?â
âââDo you mean,â she asked aloudâ ââdo you mean you thought I loved you as we love those we wish to marry?â
âIt was my meaning, and I said so.
âââYou conceived an idea obnoxious to a womanâs feelings,â was her answer. âYou have announced it in a fashion revolting to a womanâs soul. You insinuate that all the frank kindness I have shown you has been a complicated, a bold, and an immodest manoeuvre to ensnare a husband. You imply that at last you come here out of pity to offer me your hand, because I have courted you. Let me say this: Your sight is jaundiced; you have seen wrong. Your mind is warped; you have judged wrong. Your tongue betrays you; you now speak wrong. I never loved you. Be at rest there. My heart is as pure of passion for you as yours is barren of affection for me.â
âI hope I was answered, Yorke?
âââI seem to be a blind, besotted sort of person,â was my remark.
âââLoved you!â she cried. âWhy, I have been as frank with you as a sisterâ ânever shunned you, never feared you. You cannot,â she affirmed triumphantlyâ ââyou cannot make me tremble with your coming, nor accelerate my pulse by your influence.â
âI alleged that often, when she spoke to me, she blushed, and that the sound of my name moved her.
âââNot for your sake!â she declared briefly. I urged explanation, but could get none.
âââWhen I sat beside you at the school feast, did you think I loved you then? When I stopped you in Maythorn Lane, did you think I loved you then? When I called on you in the countinghouse, when I walked with you on the pavement, did you think I loved you then?â
âSo she questioned me; and I said I did.
âBy the Lord! Yorke, she rose, she grew tall, she expanded and refined almost to flame. There was a trembling all through her, as in live coal when its vivid vermilion is hottest.
âââThat is to say that you have the worst opinion of me; that you deny me the possession of all I value most. That is to say that I am a traitor to all my sisters; that I have acted as no woman can act without degrading herself and her sex; that I have sought where the incorrupt of my kind naturally scorn and abhor to seek.â She and I were silent for many a minute. âLucifer, Star of the Morning,â she went on, âthou art fallen! You, once high in my esteem, are hurled down; you, once intimate in my friendship, are cast out. Go!â
âI went not. I had heard her voice tremble, seen her lip quiver. I knew another storm of tears would fall, and then I believed some calm and some sunshine must come, and I would wait for it.
âAs fast, but more quietly than before, the warm rain streamed down. There was another sound in her weepingâ âa softer, more regretful sound. While I watched, her eyes lifted to me a gaze more reproachful than haughty, more mournful than incensed.
âââO Moore!â said she. It was worse than âEt tu, Brute!â
âI relieved myself by what should have been a sigh, but it became a groan. A sense of Cain-like desolation made my breast ache.
âââThere has been error in what I have done,â I said, âand it has won me bitter wages, which I will go and spend far from her who gave them.â
âI took my hat. All the time I could not have borne to depart so, and I believed she would not let me. Nor would she but for the mortal pang I had given her pride, that cowed her compassion and kept her silent.
âI was obliged to turn back of my own accord when I reached the door, to approach her, and to say, âForgive me.â
âââI could, if there was not myself to forgive too,â was her reply; âbut to mislead a sagacious man so far I must have done wrong.â
âI broke out suddenly with some declamation I do not remember. I know that it was sincere, and that my wish and aim were to absolve her to herself. In fact, in her case self-accusation was a chimera.
âAt last she extended her hand. For the first time I wished to take her in my arms and kiss her. I did kiss her hand many times.
âââSome day we shall be friends again,â she said, âwhen you have had time to read my actions and motives in a true light, and not so horribly to misinterpret them. Time may give you the right key to all. Then, perhaps, you will comprehend me, and then we shall be reconciled.â
âFarewell drops rolled slow down her cheeks. She wiped them away.
âââI am sorry for what has happenedâ âdeeply sorry,â she sobbed. So was I, God knows! Thus were we severed.â
âA queer tale!â commented Mr. Yorke.
âIâll do it no more,â vowed his companion; ânever more will I mention marriage to a woman unless I feel love. Henceforth credit and commerce may take care of themselves. Bankruptcy may come when it lists. I have done with slavish fear of disaster. I mean to work diligently, wait patiently, bear steadily. Let the
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