My only mission was to read aloud, maintaining the old habit, for though to Agatha the import of the words was dead, she would at times sink back contentedly, soothed by the soft monotony of the sound. And I remember how, one night, when Elinor had sat heedless, I thought, as usual and engaged in thought -- as I came to the words: "Thou hast not rested yet resisted unto blood,' she startled slightly, so that I paused to look at her, and saw her eyes turned to the open page that rested on my knee.
'Give me your Book,' she said that night, when I had closed it. 'It has some phrases that ring true.'
Charlotte Mew: Elinor (excerpt)
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