'
'I was in hopes of hearing,' said Mrs. Bouverie, 'that you had
trained your school-children to sing the sixty-fifth Psalm as nicely
as they did to-day. I am sure their teacher must have come from the
Vicarage.'
'No,' said Elizabeth, 'it was the school-master who taught them.
Perhaps, if Helen had not been from home so long, she might have
helped the girls, but when she came home three weeks ago, it was
hardly worth while for her to begin. That is the only reason I ever
wished to understand music.'
Mrs. Bouverie now began talking to her about the church and its
architecture, and of the children, in exactly the way that Elizabeth
liked, and in half an hour she saw more of Elizabeth's true self than
Miss Maynard had ever seen, though she had known her all her life.
Miss Maynard had seen only her roughness. Mrs. Bouverie had found
her way below it. Elizabeth was as sincere and open as the day,
although from seldom meeting with anyone who could comprehend or
sympathize with her ideas, her manners had acquired a degree of
roughness and reserve, difficult to penetrate, and anything but
attractive, suiting ill with her sweet smile and beaming eyes.
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