at interest. There was something
about Delia's short, compact figure; her firm chin; the crisp, wavy hair
which rose from her broad, low forehead like a sort of halo, which gave
an impression of strength and reliability not unmingled with self-will.
This last quality, however, was not so marked while she was playing.
Her face then was at its best, and its usual somewhat defiant air
softened into a wistfulness which was almost beauty. Before the tune
was finished, Anna was quite ready to rush into a close friendship, if
Delia would respond to it, but of this she felt rather in doubt.

"How beautifully you play!" she exclaimed, as Delia dropped her bow, and
shut up her music-book.

A very little smile curled Delia's lips.

"That shows one thing," she answered, "you don't know much about music,
or you would not call my playing beautiful."

"Well, it sounds so to me," said Anna, a little abashed by this
directness of speech, "but I certainly don't know much about music; Aunt
Sarah says I need not go on with it while I am here."

"I play very badly," said Delia; "if you wish to hear beautiful playing,
you must listen to your grandfather."

"Must I?" said Anna, vaguely. "I thought," she added, "that he played
the organ in Dornton church."

"So he does," said Delia, "but he plays the violin too. And he gives
lessons. He taught me."

She looked searchingly at her companion, whose fair face reddened a
little.

"I owe everything to him," continued Delia; "without what he has done
for me my life would be dark. He brought light into it when he taught
me to play and to love music."

"Did he?" said Anna, wonderingly.

She began to feel that she did not understand Delia; she was speaking a
strange language, which evidently meant something to her, for her eyes
sparkled, and her brown cheek glowed with excitement.

"We ought to be proud in Dornton," Delia went on, "to have your
grandfather living here, but we're not worthy of him. His genius would
place him in a high position among people who could understand him.
Here it's just taken for granted."

Anna grew more puzzled and surprised still. Delia's tone upset the idea
she began to have that her grandfather was a person to be pitied. This
was a different way of speaking of him, and it was impossible to get
used to it all at once. At Waverley he was hardly mentioned at all, and
she had come to avoid doing so also, from a feeling that her aunt
disliked it. She