ceforth her father's influence exerted itself
freely, and Annabel had just reached the age for profiting most by it.
Her bringing up between a brilliant drawing-room and a well-stocked
library had preserved her from the two dangers to which English girls
of the free-born class are mainly exposed: she escaped Puritanism, yet
was equally withheld from frivolous worldliness. But it was well that
this balance, admirably maintained thus far, should not be submitted to
the risks of such a life as awaited her, if there had come no change of
conditions. She would be a beautiful woman, and was not unaware of it;
her social instincts, which Society would straightway do its best to
abuse, might outweigh her spiritual tendencies. But a year of life by
Ullswater consolidated her womanhood. She bent herself to books with
eagerness. The shock of sorrow compelled her to muse on problems which
as yet she had either not realised, or had solved in the light of
tradition, childwise. Her mind was ripe for those modern processes of
thought which hitherto had only been implicit in her education.

To her father Annabel's companionship was invaluable. She repaid richly
out of the abundance of her youthful life that anxious guidance which
he gave to her thoughts. Her loving tact sweetened for him many an hour
which would else have been spent in profitless brooding: when the signs
of which she had become aware warned her that he needed to be drawn
from himself, she was always ready with her bright converse, her
priceless sympathy. Without her he would seldom have exerted himself to
wander far from the house, but Annabel could at any time lead him over
hill and valley by pretending that she had need of a holiday. Their
communion was of a kind not frequently existing between father and
daughter; fellowship in Study made them mental comrades, and respect
for each other's intellectual powers was added to their natural love.
What did they not discuss? From classical archaeology to the fire-new
theories of the day in art and science, something of all passed at one
time or another under their scrutiny.

Yet there was the limit imposed by fine feeling. Mr. Newthorpe never
tried to pass the sacred bound which parts a father's province from
that of a mother. There was much in the girl's heart that he would
gladly have read, yet could not until she should of herself reveal it
to him. For instance, they did not very often speak of Egremont. When a
letter ar