Bouverie next to Elizabeth, and she took the
opportunity of entering into conversation with her.
'Do you play, Miss Woodbourne?'
'No, I do not,' replied Elizabeth, who particularly disliked this
mode of beginning a conversation.
'Do not you like music?' continued Mrs. Bouverie.
'I seldom have heard any I liked,' said Elizabeth shortly.
'Indeed you have been unfortunate,' said Mrs. Bouverie; 'but perhaps
you are not fond of the piano?'
'No,' said Elizabeth, with rather less of the manner of a suspected
criminal examined in sight of the rack; 'I am sick of all the
Abbeychurch pianos; I know them all perfectly, and hear nothing
else.'
Mrs. Bouverie laughed, and was glad to obtain something like an
answer. 'Your cousin plays very well,' said she.
'Yes,' said Elizabeth, 'I like her music better than most people's,
and she does not make a great fuss about it, she plays when she
thinks people like it, and not when they ask only out of politeness,
without caring about it.'
'Do you think many people ask in that manner?' said Mrs. Bouverie.
'Oh yes, everyone,' said Elizabeth; 'what can they do when they see a
disconsolate damsel sitting in a corner with nothing to say, and only
longing to be at the piano by way of doing something? It would be
too cruel not to ask her.
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