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I Visit Steerforth at His Home, Again

           Isawherfeaturesandhermannerslowlychange;Isawherlookathimwithgrowingadmiration;Isawhertry,moreandmorefaintly,butalwaysangrily,asifshecondemnedaweaknessinherself,toresistthecaptivatingpowerthathepossessed;andfinally,Isawhersharpglancesoften,andhersmilebecomequitegentle,andIceasedtobeafraidofherasIhadreallybeenallday,andweallsataboutthefire,talkingandlaughingtogether,withaslittlereserveasifwehadbeenchildren.

           Whetheritwasbecausewehadsattheresolong,orbecauseSteerforthwasresolvednottolosetheadvantagehehadgained,Idonotknow;butwedidnotremaininthedining-roommorethanfiveminutesafterherdeparture.‘Sheisplayingherharp,’saidSteerforth,softly,atthedrawing-roomdoor,‘andnobodybutmymotherhasheardherdothat,Ibelieve,thesethreeyears.’Hesaiditwithacurioussmile,whichwasgonedirectly;andwewentintotheroomandfoundheralone.

           ‘Don’tgetup,’saidSteerforth(whichshehadalreadydone)’mydearRosa,don’t!Bekindforonce,andsingusanIrishsong.’

           ‘WhatdoyoucareforanIrishsong?’shereturned.

           ‘Much!’saidSteerforth.‘Muchmorethanforanyother.HereisDaisy,too,lovesmusicfromhissoul.SingusanIrishsong,Rosa!andletmesitandlistenasIusedtodo.’

           Hedidnottouchher,orthechairfromwhichshehadrisen,butsathimselfneartheharp.

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