“MISS BURNEY PLAYS—BUT NOT TO ACKNOWLEDGE IT.”
The king, meanwhile, came to me again, and said,—“Are you musical?”
“Not a performer, sir.”
Then, going from me to the queen, he cried,—“She does not play.” I did not hear what the queen answered—-she spoke in a low voice, and seemed much out of spirits.
They now talked together a little while, about the Princess Elizabeth, and the king mentioned having had a very promising account from her physician, Sir George Baker and the queen soon brightened up.
The king then returned to me and said,—
“Are you sure you never play?—never touch the keys at all.”
“Never to acknowledge it, sir.”
“Oh! that's it!” cried he; and flying to the queen, cried, “She does play—but not to acknowledge it!”
I was now in a most horrible panic once more; pushed so very home, I could answer no other than I did, for these categorical questions almost constrain categorical answers; and here, at Windsor, it seems an absolute point that whatever they ask must be told, and whatever they desire must be done. Think but, then, of my consternation, in expecting their commands to perform! My dear father, pity me!