My cousin, who had known her husband, introduced me to her.
She was not handsome; the cheek-bones were a little too prominent,
and her face was weather-worn, but not by wind and sun.
Nevertheless it was a quietly victorious face. Her ways were simple
and refined. She had travelled much, as far even as Athens, and was
complete mistress of Italian and French. Her voice struck me--it
was so musical, and adapted itself so delicately to varying shades
of thought and emotion. I have often reflected how little we get
out of the voice in talking. How delightful is the natural
modulation which follows the sense, and how much the sense gains if
it is so expressed rather than in half-inarticulate grunts, say,
between the inspirations and expirations of a short pipe!
Mrs. A. took much notice of me, and her attitude towards me was
singular. She was not quite old enough to be motherly to me, but
she was too old for restrictions on her intercourse with me, and her
wide experience and wisdom well qualified her to be my directress.
Often when I went to her house nobody was there, and she would talk
to me with freedom on all sorts of subjects.
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