"Well, that is well done; you improve," I heard the Organist say, in tones of great satisfaction, while we were more noisily applauding; and Kate looked up in his face with such complete reliance on his judgment, and delight in his approbation, that I felt a strange thrill of vexation to think how dubious it was that such would ever be called forth by me.
Mr. Gilpin, now taking Miss Vernon's place at the piano, poured forth a beautiful "sinfonia," I think they call it; and Miss Vernon accepting the seat I vacated for her, sat listening and abstracted, her full eyes gazing on some imaginary object, unconscious of all around her; a slight tremor sometimes passing over her curved upper lip.
Rousing herself with an almost imperceptible sigh, she turned her eyes full on me, interrupting abruptly the long gaze in which I had indulged, "How beautiful! what a story that music seems to tell." At this moment the music, slow and of touching sadness, had glided by a succession of sweeping chords into a bolder and more martial strain.
"You have a great deal of imagination, Miss Vernon."
"That is a polite way of saying you are a visionary."
"No, no, there is nothing visionary about you, but I respect imagination."
"Then you are a rare specimen of your sex, Captain Egerton."
"Yes, we have less imagination, but then our life is much more practical."
"Has yours been a very practical life?"