farther from her nature than any
sceptical inclination, and she used to pounce with avidity upon any
approach to argumentative theology within her reach, carrying Paley's
_Evidences_ up to her bedroom, and devouring it as she lay upon the floor
alone."

During the three years Marian attended this school she held aloof from the
other pupils, was grave and womanly in her deportment. She acquired Miss
Rebecca Franklin's slow and precise method of speaking, and to her diligent
training owed her life-long habit of giving a finished completeness to all
her sentences. It seems that her imagination was alive at this time, and
being slowly cultivated. She was in the habit of scribbling verses in her
books and elsewhere.

A fellow-pupil during the time she was a member of this boarding-school has
given these reminiscences of Marian's life there: "She learned everything
with ease," says this person, "but was passionately devoted to music, and
became thoroughly accomplished as a pianist. Her masters always brought the
most difficult solos for her to play in public, and everywhere said she
might make a performer equal to any then upon the concert stage. She was
keenly susceptible to what she thought her lack of personal beauty,
frequently saying that she was not pleased with a single feature of her
face or figure. She was not especially noted as a writer, but so uncommon
was her intellectual power that we all thought her capable of any effort;
and so great was the charm of her conversation, that there was continual
strife among the girls as to which of them should walk with her. The
teachers had to settle it by making it depend upon alphabetical
succession."

Leaving the school in Coventry at the age of fifteen, Marian continued her
studies at home. The year following, her mother died; and this event, as
she afterwards said, first made her acquainted with "the unspeakable grief
of a last parting." Soon after, her older sister and her brother were
married and left home. She alone remained with her father, and was for
several years his housekeeper. "He offered to get a housekeeper," says Miss
Blind, "as not the house only, but farm matters had to be looked after, and
he was always tenderly considerate of 'the little wench,' as he called her.
But his daughter preferred taking the whole management of the place into
her own hands, and she was as conscientious and diligent in the discharge
of her domestic duties as in the prosecution o