“Willyoupouritout，please？Do。”shesaid，leaningbackinherchair，andplacingherhandaboveherforehead，whileheralmondeyes——thoselongeyessocommontotheangeliclegionsofearlyItalianart——becamelonger，andhervoicemorelanguishing。Sheshowedthatoblique-manneredsoftnesswhichisperhapsmostfrequentinwomenofdarkercomplexionandmorelymphatictemperamentthanMrs。Charmond’swas；wholingeringlysmiletheirmeaningstomenratherthanspeakthem，whoinveigleratherthanprompt，andtakeadvantageofcurrentsratherthansteer。
“IamthemostinactivewomanwhenIamhere。”shesaid。“IthinksometimesIwasborntoliveanddonothing，nothing，nothingbutfloatabout，aswefancywedosometimesindreams。Butthatcannotbereallymydestiny，andImuststruggleagainstsuchfancies。”
“Iamsosorryyoudonotenjoyexertion——itisquitesad！IwishIcouldtendyouandmakeyouveryhappy。”
Therewassomethingsosympathetic，soappreciative，inthesoundofGrace’svoice，thatitimpelledpeopletoplayhavocwiththeircustomaryreservationsintalkingtoher。“Itistenderandkindofyoutofeelthat。”saidMrs。Charmond。“PerhapsIhavegivenyouthenotionthatmylanguorismorethanitreallyis。Butthisplaceoppressesme，andIhaveaplanofgoingabroadagooddeal。Iusedtogowitharelative，butthatarrangementhasdroppedthrough。”RegardingGracewithafinalglanceofcriticism，sheseemedtomakeuphermindtoconsidertheyounggirlsatisfactory，andcontinued：“NowIamoftenimpelledtorecordmyimpressionsoftimesandplaces。Ihaveoftenthoughtofwritinga’NewSentimentalJourney。’ButIcannotfindenergyenoughtodoitalone。WhenIamatdifferentplacesinthesouthofEuropeIfeelacrowdofideasandfanciesthronginguponmecontinually，buttounfoldwriting-materials，takeupacoldsteelpen，andputtheseimpressionsdownsystematicallyoncold，smoothpaper——thatIcannotdo。SoIhavethoughtthatifIalwayscouldhavesomebodyatmyelbowwithwhomIaminsympathy，Imightdictateanyideasthatcomeintomyhead。AnddirectlyIhadmadeyouracquaintancetheotherdayitstruckmethatyouwouldsuitmesowell。Wouldyouliketoundertakeit？Youmightreadtome，too，ifdesirable。Willyouthinkitover，andaskyourparentsiftheyarewilling？”
“Ohyes。”saidGrace。“Iamalmostsuretheywouldbeveryglad。”