She could not even take an airing, however, without some discussion with
Miss Granger. That young lady was established in the drawing-room--the vast
foreign chamber, which never looked like a home--illuminating a new set
of Gothic texts for the adornment of her school. She sorely missed the
occupation and importance afforded her by the model village. In Paris there
was no one afraid of her; no humble matrons to quail as her severe eyes
surveyed wall and ceiling, floor and surbase. And being of a temperament
which required perpetual employment, she was fain to fall back upon
illumination, Berlin-wool work, and early morning practice of pianoforte
music of the most strictly mathematical character. It was her boast that
she had been thoroughly "grounded" in the science of harmony; but although
she could have given a reason for every interval in a sonata, her playing
never sparkled into brilliancy or melted into tenderness, and never had her
prim cold fingers found their way to a human soul.
"Are you going out so early?" this wise damsel asked wonderingly, as
Clarissa came into the drawing-room in her bonnet and shawl.
"Yes, it is such a fine morning, and I think baby will enjoy it. I have not
had a drive with him since we have been here."
"No," replied Sophia, "you have only had papa. I shouldn't think he would
be very much flattered if he heard you preferred baby."
"I did not say that I preferred baby, Sophia.
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