"Pauline, are you there?"
A rich, clear, musical voice answered:
"Yes, I am here, uncle."
"My dear," continued Sir Oswald, half timidly, not advancing a step farther into the grotto, "may I ask what you are doing?"
"Certainly, uncle," was the cheerful reply; "you may ask by all means. The difficulty is to answer; for I am really doing nothing, and I do not know how to describe 'nothing.'"
"Why did you come hither?" he asked.
"To dream," replied the musical voice. "I think the sound of falling water is the sweetest music in the world. I came here to enjoy it, and to dream over it."
Sir Oswald looked very uncomfortable.
"Considering, Pauline, how much you have been neglected, do you not think you might spend your time more profitably—in educating yourself, for example?"
"This is educating myself. I am teaching myself beautiful thoughts, and nature just now is my singing mistress." And then the speaker's voice suddenly changed, and a ring of passion came into it. "Who says that I have been neglected? When you say that, you speak ill of my dear dead father, and no one shall do that in my presence. You speak slander, and slander ill becomes an English gentleman. If I was neglected when my father was alive, I wish to goodness such neglect were my portion now!"