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Updated: May 20, 2025
But it was not this consciousness, nor its confession, that drew the dark brows so low over Miss Lucinda's eyes that day; it was quite another trouble, and one that wore heavily on her mind, as we shall proceed to explain.
Miss Lucinda's code of minor morals would have forbidden her to drink from the same cup with a queen, and have considered a pitchfork as suitable as a knife to eat with, nor would she have offered to a servant the least thing she had touched with her own lips or her own implements of eating; and she was too delicately bred to look on in comfort where such things were practised.
I cannot honestly say he was in love with our friend; I must even confess that whatever element of that nature existed between the two was now all on Miss Lucinda's side, little as she knew it.
Perhaps it was the glow of pride on Uncle Cliff's face as she took her place at the piano to play Annabel's accompaniments the look of satisfaction on Aunt Lucinda's that stamped the afternoon so indelibly on her mind; perhaps it was a little self satisfaction for Blue Bonnet was altogether human. At any rate, she felt sure that she would always recall the day with happiness.
I said Miss Lucinda's face was unsaintly, I mean unlike ancient saints as depicted by contemporary artists: modern and private saints are after another fashion.
"What a guy I shall look, stalking home alone in this rig," she thought crossly. There was no help for it, unless she confessed her plight to some of the stranger guests and begged a drive home. Lucinda's pride scorned such a request and the admission of neglect it involved.
Again I saw that same sudden change on her face, surprise, almost fright; and I swear she shrank from me as though in terror, her hand plucking at Aunt Lucinda's sleeve; whereas, all Aunt Lucinda could do was to pluck at her niece's sleeve in turn.
Early in January they were all to go back to London. Then for a while, up to the period of Lucinda's marriage, Lizzie was to be Mrs. Carbuncle's guest at the small house in Mayfair; but Lizzie was to keep the carriage. There came at last to be some little attempt, perhaps, at a hard bargain at the hand of each lady, in which Mrs. Carbuncle, as the elder, probably got the advantage.
Miss Lucinda's delicate fashions suited him exactly; he adored her taste for the beautiful, which she was unconscious of; he enjoyed her cookery, and though he groaned within himself at the amount of debt he was incurring, yet he took courage from her kindness to believe she would not be a hard creditor, and, being naturally cheerful, put aside his anxieties and amused himself as well as her with his stories, his quavering songs, his recipes for pot-au-feu, tísane, and pâtés, at once economical and savory.
Have you not fancied that Lucinda's eyes beamed on you with a special tenderness, and presently become aware that she ogles your neighbour with the very same killing glances? The sun shines for everybody; the flowers smell sweet for all noses; and the nightingale and Lalage warble for all ears not your long ones only, good Brother!
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