Harley, much affected, replied gratefully and soothingly to this fond injunction. And then gradually leading his mother on to converse of Helen, asked abruptly, “And of the chance of our happiness,—her happiness as well as mine,—what is your opinion? Speak frankly.”
“Of her happiness there can be no doubt,” replied the mother, proudly. “Of yours, how can you ask me? Have you not decided on that yourself?”
“But still it cheers and encourages one in any experiment, however well considered, to hear the approval of another. Helen has certainly a most gentle temper.”
“I should conjecture so. But her mind—”
“Is very well stored.”
“She speaks so little—”
“Yes. I wonder why? She’s surely a woman!”
“Pshaw,” said the countess, smiling in spite of herself.
“But tell me more of the process of your experiment. You took her as a child, and resolved to train her according to your own ideal. Was that easy?”
“It seemed so. I desired to instil habits of truth: she was already by nature truthful as the day; a taste for Nature and all things natural: that seemed inborn; perceptions of Art as the interpreter of Nature: those were more difficult to teach. I think they may come. You have heard her play and sing?”