Explore "Shirley" by Charlotte Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Not on combat bent, nor of foemen in search, was this priest-led and women-officered company: yet their music played martial tunes, and--to judge by the eyes and carriage of some, Miss Keeldar, for instance--these sounds awoke, if not a martial, yet a longing spirit. Old Helstone, turning by chance, looked into her face, and he laughed, and she laughed at him.
'There is no battle in prospect,' he said; 'our country does not want us to fight for it: no foe or tyrant is questioning or threatening our liberty: there is nothing to be done: we are only taking a walk. Keep your hand on the reins, Captain, and slack the fire of that spirit: it is not wanted; the more's the pity.'