‘I hardly played anything newer than Mozart at Hiltonbury. Miss Charlecote taught me very well, I believe, and I had lessons from the organist from Elverslope, besides a good deal in the fashionable line since. I have kept that up. One wants it.’
There was another shy pause, and Lucilla growing more scrupulous and more confidential, volunteered,—‘Mine has been an idle life since I came out. I am three-and-twenty now, and have been diligently forgetting for the last six years. Did you know that I had been a fast young lady?’
But things had come to such a pass, that say what she would, all passed for ingenuous candour and humility, and the answer was,—
‘I know that you have led a very trying life, but to have passed through such unscathed is no disadvantage.’
‘If I have,’ said Lucy, sadly.
Mrs. Prendergast, who had learned all the facts of Lucilla’s history through the Wrapworth medium, knew only the heroic side of her character, and admired her the more for her diffidence. So when terms were spoken of, the only fear on the one side was, that such a treasure must be beyond her means; on the other, lest what she needed for her nephew’s sake might deprive her of such a home. However, seventy pounds a year proved to be in the thoughts of both, and the preliminaries ended with, ‘I hope you will find my little Sarah a pleasant companion. She is a good girl, and intelligent, but you must be prepared for a few angles.’
‘I like angles. I don’t care for commonplace people.’
‘I am afraid that you will find many such at Southminster. We cannot promise you the society you have been used to.’
‘I am tired of society. I have had six years of it!’ and she sighed.
‘You must fix your own time,’ said Mrs. Prendergast; ‘and indeed we will try to make you at home.’