Мидлмарч

           AhiddensoulseemedtobeflowingforthfromRosamond’sfingers;andsoindeeditwas,sincesoulsliveoninperpetualechoes,andtoallfineexpressiontheregoessomewhereanoriginatingactivity,ifitbeonlythatofaninterpreter.Lydgatewastakenpossessionof,andbegantobelieveinherassomethingexceptional.Afterall,hethought,oneneednotbesurprisedtofindtherareconjunctionsofnatureundercircumstancesapparentlyunfavorable:comewheretheymay,theyalwaysdependonconditionsthatarenotobvious.Hesatlookingather,anddidnotrisetopayheranycompliments,leavingthattoothers,nowthathisadmirationwasdeepened.

           Hersingingwaslessremarkable?butalsowelltrained,andsweettohearasachimeperfectlyintune.Itistrueshesang"Meetmebymoonlight,"and"I’vebeenroaming;"formortalsmustsharethefashionsoftheirtime,andnonebuttheancientscanbealwaysclassical.ButRosamondcouldalsosing"Black-eyedSusan"witheffect,orHaydn’scanzonets,or"Voi,chesapete,"or"Batti,batti"—sheonlywantedtoknowwhatheraudienceliked.

           Herfatherlookedroundatthecompany,delightingintheiradmiration.Hermothersat,likeaNiobebeforehertroubles,withheryoungestlittlegirlonherlap,softlybeatingthechild’shandupanddownintimetothemusic.AndFred,notwithstandinghisgeneralscepticismaboutRosy,listenedtohermusicwithperfectallegiance,wishinghecoulddothesamethingonhisflute.