Indeed, earnest speech was not frequent upon her lips when she talked with Cecily.

In spite of the girl's nature, there had never existed between them warmer relations than those of fondness and interest on one side, and gentleness with respect on the other.

Cecily was well aware of this something lacking in their common life; she had wished, not seldom these last two years, to supply the want, but found herself unable, and grew conscious that her aunt gave all it was in her power to bestow.

For this very reason, she found it impossible to utter herself in the present juncture as she could have done to a mother--as she could have done to Miriam; impossible, likewise, to insist on her heart's urgent desire, though she knew not how she should forbear it.
To refuse compliance would have been something more than failure in dutifulness; she would have felt it as harshness, and perhaps injustice, to one with whom she involuntarily stood on terms of ceremony.
"May I write a reply to this letter ?" she asked, after a silence.
"I had rather you allowed me to speak for you to Mr.Elgar.To write and to see him are the same thing.

Surely you can forget yourself for a moment, and regard this from my point of view." "I don't know how far you may be led by your sense of responsibility.
Remember that you have insisted to me on your prejudice against Mr.
Elgar." "Vainly enough," returned the other, with a smile.