"I am the most inactive woman when I am here," she said. "I think
sometimes I was born to live and do nothing, nothing, nothing but float
about, as we fancy we do sometimes in dreams. But that cannot be
really my destiny, and I must struggle against such fancies."
"I am so sorry you do not enjoy exertion--it is quite sad! I wish I
could tend you and make you very happy."
There was something so sympathetic, so appreciative, in the sound of
Grace's voice, that it impelled people to play havoc with their
customary reservations in talking to her. "It is tender and kind of
you to feel that," said Mrs. Charmond. "Perhaps I have given you the
notion that my languor is more than it really is. But this place
oppresses me, and I have a plan of going abroad a good deal. I used to
go with a relative, but that arrangement has dropped through."
Regarding Grace with a final glance of criticism, she seemed to make up
her mind to consider the young girl satisfactory, and continued: "Now I
am often impelled to record my impressions of times and places. I have
often thought of writing a 'New Sentimental Journey.' But I cannot
find energy enough to do it alone. When I am at different places in
the south of Europe I feel a crowd of ideas and fancies thronging upon
me continually, but to unfold writing-materials, take up a cold steel
pen, and put these impressions down systematically on cold, smooth
paper--that I cannot do. So I have thought that if I always could have
somebody at my elbow with whom I am in sympathy, I might dictate any
ideas that come into my head. And directly I had made your
acquaintance the other day it struck me that you would suit me so well.
Would you like to undertake it? You might read to me, too, if
desirable. Will you think it over, and ask your parents if they are
willing?"
"Oh yes," said Grace. "I am almost sure they would be very glad."
"You are so accomplished, I hear; I should be quite honored by such
intellectual company."
Grace, modestly blushing, deprecated any such idea.
"Do you keep up your lucubrations at Little Hintock?"
"Oh no. Lucubrations are not unknown at Little Hintock; but they are
not carried on by me."
"What--another student in that retreat?"
"There is a surgeon lately come, and I have heard that he reads a great
deal--I see his light sometimes through the trees late at night."