During the winter of 1862-63 Miss Marryat was in London, and for a few months I remained there with her, attending the admirable French classes of M. Roche.  In the spring I returned home to Harrow, going up each week to the classes; and when these were over, Auntie told me that she thought all she could usefully do was done, and that it was time that I should try my wings alone.  So well, however, had she succeeded in her aims, that my emancipation from the schoolroom was but the starting-point of more eager study, though now the study turned into the lines of thought towards which my personal tendencies most attracted me.  German I continued to read with a master, and music, under the marvellously able teaching of Mr. John Farmer, musical director of Harrow School, took up much of my time.  My dear mother had a passion for music, and Beethoven and Bach were her favourite composers.  There was scarcely a sonata of Beethoven’s that I did not learn, scarcely a fugue of Bach’s that I did not master.  Mendelssohn’s “Lieder” gave a lighter recreation, and many a happy evening did we spend, my mother and I, over the stately strains of the blind Titan, and the sweet melodies of the German wordless orator.  Musical “At Homes,” too, were favourite amusements at Harrow, and at these my facile fingers made me a welcome guest.

Thus set free from the schoolroom at 161/2, an only daughter, I could do with my time as I would, save for the couple of hours a day given to music, for the satisfaction of my mother.  From then till I became engaged, just before I was 19, my life flowed on smoothly, one current visible to all and dancing in the sunlight, the other running underground, but full and deep and strong.  As regards my outer life, no girl had a brighter, happier life than mine; studying all the mornings and most of the afternoons in my own way, and spending the latter part of the day in games and walks and rides—­varied with parties at which I was one of the merriest of guests.  I practised archery so zealously that I carried up triumphantly as prize for the best score the first ring I ever possessed, while croquet found me a most eager devotee.  My darling mother certainly “spoiled” me, so far as were concerned all the small roughnesses of life.  She never allowed a trouble of any kind to touch me, and cared only that all worries should fall on her, all joys on me.  I know now what I never dreamed then, that her life was one of serious anxiety.  The heavy burden of my brother’s school and college life pressed on her constantly, and her need of money was often serious.  A lawyer whom she trusted absolutely cheated her systematically, using for his own purposes the remittances she made for payment of liabilities, thus keeping upon her a constant drain.  Yet for me all that was wanted was ever there.  Was it a ball to which we were going?  I need never think of what I would wear till the time for dressing arrived, and there laid out ready for me was all I wanted,