She looked at him with the vague fear that accompanies a new and
doubtful experience; and he, dissatisfied with his way of putting
the case, added, "It is of greater importance that you should enjoy
yourself for an hour than that my book should be advanced. Far
greater!"

Lydia, after some consideration, put down her pen and said, "I shall
not enjoy riding if there is anything else left undone."

"I shall not enjoy your writing if your excursion is given up for
it," he said. "I prefer your going."

Lydia obeyed silently. An odd thought struck her that she might end
the matter gracefully by kissing him. But as they were unaccustomed
to make demonstrations of this kind, nothing came of the impulse.
She spent the day on horseback, reconsidered her late rebellious
thoughts, and made the translation in the evening.

Thenceforth Lydia had a growing sense of the power she had
unwittingly been acquiring during her long subordination. Timidly at
first, and more boldly as she became used to dispense with the
parental leading-strings, she began to follow her own bent in
selecting subjects for study, and even to defend certain recent
developments of art against her father's conservatism. He approved
of this independent mental activity on her part, and repeatedly
warned her not to pin her faith more on him than on any other
critic. She once told him that one of her incentives to disagree
with him was the pleasure it gave her to find out ultimately that he
was right. He replied gravely: