“How heartless of them! And how stupid! For it isn't a bit ugly. It's strong. It has so much character, so much individuality—Elias.”
If it had been agreeable to be allowed to pronounce her name, it was trebly agreeable to hear her pronounce and applaud his own. Indeed, the quality of the name hereby underwent a considerable transformation, and acquired a euphony to his ears that it had never possessed before.
“Speaking of names,” continued Christine, “do you remember those names that Rossetti mentions in 'The Blessed Damozel,' and calls sweet symphonies?”
“I think Rosalys was one, and Gertrude another, weren't they? There were five altogether.”
“Magdalen was a third. But the book is right there on the table. Let's look and see.”
Elias got the book, sought the place, and read aloud:
“'—Whose names
Are five sweet symphonies,
Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,
Margaret and Rosalys.'”