Lately, the opening of universities to women has removed this danger for the more ambitious; but at the time of which I am writing no one dreamed of the changes soon to be made in the direction of the "higher education of women." 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.