"But why don't you sing and play? How do you expect to pass current in society, without being able to hang on the instrument as I do, or creep over it with mouselike fingers as most young ladies do? I suppose you are very learned—very accomplished? How many languages do you speak?"
"Only two at present," I answered, excessively amused by her eccentricity, and falling into her vein with a facility that quite surprised myself. "I generally find the English tongue sufficient to express my ideas."
"I suppose one of the two is German. You will be considered a mere nobody here, if you do not understand German. It is the fashion; the paroxysm; German literature, German taste, and German transcendentalism; I have tried them all, but they will not do for me. I must have sunshine and open air. I must see where I am going, and understand what I am doing. I abhor mysticism, as I do deceit. Are you frank, Miss Gabriella? You have such a pretty name, I shall take the liberty of using it. Lynn is too short; it sounds like an abbreviation of Linwood."
"If you mean by frankness, a disposition to tell all I think and feel, I am not frank," I answered, without noticing her last remark, which created a smile in others.
"You do not like to hear people express all their thoughts, good, bad, or indifferent?"
"Indeed I do not. I like to have them winnowed before they are uttered."
"Then you will not like me, and I am sorry for it. I have taken an amazing fancy to you. Never mind; I shall take you by storm when we get to Grandison Place. Do you know I am going home with you? Are you not delighted?"
She burst into one of her great, rich laughs, at the sight of my dismayed countenance. I really felt annihilated at the thought. There was something so overpowering, so redundant about her, I expected to be weighed down,—overshadowed. She going to Grandison Place! Alas, what a transformation there would be! Adieu to the quiet walks, the evening readings, the morning flower gatherings; adieu to sentiment and tranquillity, to poetry and romance. Why had Mrs. Linwood invited so strange a guest? Perhaps she was self-invited.
"I tell you what I am going for," she said, bending her face to mine and speaking in a whisper that sounded like a whistle in my ear; "I am going to animate that man of stone. Why have not you done it, juxtaposited as you are? You do not make use of the fire-arms with which nature has supplied you. If I had such a pair of eyes, I would slay like David my tens of thousands every day."
"The difficulty would be in finding victims," I answered. "The inhabitants of the town where I reside do not number more than two or three thousand."