The answer was given very quietly, very simply, not very loud. "The lady whom you had the honour of instructing in the art, Dr. Harrison."
"Did you do it well?" said Dr. Harrison somewhat comically, wheeling round before Faith.
She was a contrast; as her face looked up at him, rather pleased, and her soft voice answered,—"I think I did, sir."
"I don't doubt you did! And I don't doubt you would do anything. Are you preparing to be another Portia? And am I to be Bellario?"
"I don't know what you mean, Dr. Harrison."
"Do you know the story of Portia?—in the Merchant of Venice?"
"I never read it."
"She was a dangerous character," said the doctor. "Portia, Miss
Derrick, wishing to save not the life but the character and happiness
of a—But what a way this is to tell you the story! Is there a
Shakspeare here?"
"We haven't it," said Faith quietly.
"I'll bring the play the next time I come, if you will allow me," he said sitting down by her;—"and indoctrinate you in something more interesting than my first lesson. How shall I thank you for doing my work for me?"