“It only diverted us for a time, I assure you, my Fanny; it did not take us very long to perceive how it was no laughing matter, but, on the contrary, a very serious matter. Signor Rauzzini is, as I said, an enchanter, but do you not think that ’tis somewhat dangerous to—to—”
“To play with fire? That is what is on your mind, dear—to allow the fire of his Roman eyes to play about me? Dangerous? I admit that wherever there is fire there is danger, especially when it flashes from such eyes.”
“I am glad that you need no warning, child. As your elder sister I am pleased that—that—but no one in the house seems to think for a moment that the favour he has so distinctly shown to you can mean anything. Indeed, until last night, neither Charles nor I could believe—”
Fanny laughed, half closing her short-sighted eyes with a curious expression as she looked at her sister.
“It is only natural, my dear Hettina,” she said. “Have I ever ventured to suggest that I am other than the dunce of the family?”
“You have always been absurdly humble, Fanny, and I have never hesitated to say so,” cried Esther. “I am sure that none of us could have made up such clever little pieces to act as you did when we were children. And as for writing, could any of us have so neatly copied out the padre’s History as you did last year! Mr. Crisp, too—he never takes pleasure in any letters of the family except what you write for him.”
“All perfectly true, my Hettina,” replied Fanny. “But where am I when the house is filled with visitors? You know that I am nobody—that all I pray for with all my heart is that no one will take any notice of me, and I think I can say that my prayer is nearly always granted.”
“That is because you are so dreadfully—so absurdly shy,” said Esther. “You are the little mouse that is evermore on the look out for a hole into which you can creep and be safe from the observation of all eyes. You are ever trying to escape, unless when Mr. Garrick is here.”
“Dear Hettina, I know my place—that is all. I have weak eyes, but quick ears, and I have heard strangers ask, when they have heard you sing and Susan play, who the little short-sighted girl in the corner is and what she means to do for the entertainment of the company. When they are assured that I am one of the clever Burney family they whisper an incredulous ‘No?’ They cannot believe that so insignificant a person as myself can be one of you.”
“’Tis your morbid self-consciousness, Fanny, that suggests so much to you.”