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She even put herself in Lucy's place, and asked herself how she could bear this or that. She would not oppose or overwhelm the probable benefactress to whom she, or at least Bice, might afterwards owe so much. When Sir Tom approached her chair in the evening when he came in after dinner, as he always did, she made room for him on the sofa beside her.
"Maggie, is it that you don't love Philip well enough to marry him? Tell me trust me." Maggie held Lucy's hands tightly in silence a little while. Her own hands were quite cold. But when she spoke, her voice was quite clear and distinct. "Yes, Lucy, I would choose to marry him. I think it would be the best and highest lot for me, to make his life happy. He loved me first.
"If you please, Miss Melville, that's my black shawl, I know it by the border," piped a very little girl in mourning. "I do believe that's my waterproof, and Lucy's plaid shawl," giggled Delia Guest. "Did you ever?" "And my green veil," put in somebody else, faintly. Miss Melville quietly removed the veil, and Gypsy looked up with her mischief bright all over her face.
It was Lucy's future happiness which was at stake. This must be made safe at any cost short of exposure. "Better put a few things in a bag," Doctor John continued. "It may be a case of hours or days I can't tell till I see him. The boy fell from the roof of the stable and is pretty badly hurt; both legs are broken, I hear; the right one in two places."
Berry pressed Lucy's waist the moment she was about to breathe the petition to heaven to shield and bless that coming life; and thereat Lucy closed to her, and felt a strong love for her.
Then on their heels followed an angry denial of responsibility, mingled with alarm and revolt. Was he to be robbed of Lucy because Eleanor had misread him? No doubt she had imprinted what she pleased on Lucy's mind. Was he indeed undone? for good and all? Then shame, pity, rushed upon him headlong. He dared not look at the face beside him with its record of pain.
I got excited over her flabby cheeks, over those ridiculous dimples, that were half filled up, over that treble chin, that dyed hair, those lusterless eyes, and that nose, which was a caricature of Lucy's beautiful, attractive little nose. "I had a prescience of the future.
Then one evening, in Lucy's absence, he found her so pale, and racked with misery so powerless either to ask help, or to help herself, so resolute not to speak again, so clearly tortured by her own coercing will, that his hesitation gave way. He walked down the hill, in a trance of prayer. When he emerged from it his mind was made up.
Then there was a pause. Dora broke it. She was sitting upright on the stool, looking straight into his face. 'Will you not be cross if I say something? she asked, catching her breath. 'It's not my business. 'Say it, please. But he reddened instantly. 'Lucy's Lucy's got a fancy for you, she said tremulously, shrinking from her own words. 'Perhaps it's a shame to say it oh, it may be!
He already understood the melting eyes that were making acquaintance with his, and half felt the pain that gave so much tenderness to her kiss, and looked at her with a grave face of awakening wonder and sympathy. Fleda was glad to have business to call her into the kitchen. "Who is it?" was Barby's immediate question. "Aunt Lucy's daughter."
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