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I Visit Steerforth at His Home, Again

           Shestoodbesideitforsomelittlewhile,inacuriousway,goingthroughthemotionofplayingitwithherrighthand,butnotsoundingit.Atlengthshesatdown,anddrewittoherwithonesuddenaction,andplayedandsang.

           Idon’tknowwhatitwas,inhertouchorvoice,thatmadethatsongthemostunearthlyIhaveeverheardinmylife,orcanimagine.Therewassomethingfearfulintherealityofit.Itwasasifithadneverbeenwritten,orsettomusic,butsprungoutofpassionwithinher;whichfoundimperfectutteranceinthelowsoundsofhervoice,andcrouchedagainwhenallwasstill.Iwasdumbwhensheleanedbesidetheharpagain,playingit,butnotsoundingit,withherrighthand.

           Aminutemore,andthishadrousedmefrommytrance:Steerforthhadlefthisseat,andgonetoher,andhadputhisarmlaughinglyabouther,andhadsaid,‘Come,Rosa,forthefuturewewillloveeachotherverymuch!’Andshehadstruckhim,andhadthrownhimoffwiththefuryofawildcat,andhadburstoutoftheroom.

           ‘WhatisthematterwithRosa?’saidMrs.Steerforth,comingin.

           ‘Shehasbeenanangel,mother,’returnedSteerforth,‘foralittlewhile;andhasrunintotheoppositeextreme,since,bywayofcompensation.’

           ‘Youshouldbecarefulnottoirritateher,James.Hertemperhasbeensoured,remember,andoughtnottobetried.

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Roboto Lora
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