Now and then Endymion would enquire how she progressed with her music, would listen to her report and observe: "Ah, I used to do a little fiddling myself." But he never put her proficiency to the test.
Somehow, and long before the world came to the same conclusion, she had resolved that marriage was not for her.

She adored babies, though they usually screamed at the sight of her, and she thought it would be delightful to have one of her own who would not scream; but apart from this vague sentiment, she accepted her fate without sensible regret.
By watching and copying the mistresses of the few houses she visited she learned to play the hostess at Bayfield, and, as time brought confidence, played it with credit.

She knew that people laughed at her, and that yet they liked her; their liking and their laughter puzzled her about equally.

For the rest, she was proud of Bayfield and content, though one day much resembled another, to live all her life there, devoted to God and her garden.

Visitors always praised her garden.
Axcester lies on the western side and mostly at the foot of a low hill set accurately in the centre of a ring of hills slightly higher-the raised bottom of a saucer would be no bad simile.