Mrs. Meyrick had not failed to send Deronda a report of Mirah's well-being in her family. "We are getting fonder of her every day," she had written. "At breakfast-time we all look toward the door with expectation to see her come in; and we watch her and listen to her as if she were a native from a new country. I have not heard a word from her lips that gives me a doubt about her. She is quite contented and full of gratitude. My daughters are learning from her, and they hope to get her other pupils; for she is anxious not to eat the bread of idleness, but to work, like my girls. Mab says our life has become like a fairy tale, and all she is afraid of is that Mirah will turn into a nightingale again and fly away from us. Her voice is just perfect: not loud and strong, but searching and melting, like the thoughts of what has been. That is the way old people like me feel a beautiful voice."

Mrs. Meyrick had sent Deronda a report of Mirah's well-being. "We are getting fonder of her every day," she had written. "At breakfast-time we all look forward to seeing her come in; and we listen to her as if she were a native from a new country. I have not heard a word from her lips that gives me a doubt about her. She is quite contented and full of gratitude. My daughters are learning singing from her, and they hope to get her other pupils; for she is anxious to work, like my girls. Mab says our life has become like a fairy tale, and she is afraid that Mirah will turn into a nightingale again and fly away. Her voice is just perfect: not loud and strong, but searching and melting."
