Explore "Shirley" by Charlotte Brontë on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The die was cast. Sir Philip Nunnely knew it: Shirley knew it: Mr. Sympson knew it. That evening, when all the Fieldhead family dined at Nunnely Priory, decided the business.
Two or three things conduced to bring the Baronet to a point. He had observed that Miss Keeldar looked pensive and delicate. This new phase in her demeanour smote him on his weak or poetic side: a spontaneous sonnet brewed in his brain; and while it was still working there, one of his sisters persuaded his lady-love to sit down to the piano and sing a ballad--one of Sir Philip's own ballads. It was the least elaborate, the least affected--out of all comparison the best of his numerous efforts.