"You have modestly kept quite all summer, and I am just finding out that you play and sing," he said.
"I would not have the confidence to do either at a hotel. I shall never be able to do any more than furnish a little simple home music to friends, not critics."
"I'm content with that arrangement, for I have finally dropped my character of critic."
"But true friends never flatter," she said. "If you won't help me overcome my faults I shall have to find another friend."
"As you recommended an ancient woman as nurse, so I will recommend the venerable friend you have already found, and ask you to let him do all the fault-finding."
She turned to him and said earnestly: "Mr. Van Berg, are you not a sufficiently sincere friend to tell me my faults?"
"Yes, Miss Ida, if you ask me to."
"Only as you do so can you keep my respect."
"You are very much in earnest. I never saw greater fidelity to conscience before; and I should be very sorry if, for any cause, your conscience were arrayed against me."
She suddenly buried her face in her hands and trembled. Then turning from him to her piano again she faltered: "I disregarded conscience once and I suffered deeply," and in the depths of her soul she added, "and I fear I shall again."