Beatrice and Lillian had reached their sixteenth year, and two
fairer girls were seldom seen. Mrs. Vyvian's efforts had not
been in vain; they were accomplished far beyond the ordinary run
of young girls. Lillian inherited her father's talent for
drawing. She was an excellent artist. Beatrice excelled in
music. She had a magnificent contralto voice that had been
carefully trained. Both were cultivated, graceful, elegant
girls, and Lady Earle often sighed to think they should be living
in such profound obscurity. She could do nothing; seventeen
years had not changed Lord Earle's resolution. Time, far from
softening, imbittered him the more against his son. Of Ronald
Lady Earle heard but little. He was still in Africa; he wrote at
rare intervals, but there was little comfort in his letters.
Lady Earle did what she could for her grandchildren, but it was a
strange, unnatural life. They knew no other girls; they had
never ben twenty miles from Knutsford. All girlish pleasures and
enjoyments were a sealed book to them. They had never been to a
party, a picnic, or a ball; no life was ever more simple, more
quiet, more devoid of all amusement than theirs.
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