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Updated: June 13, 2025
When his tender words fell upon Lyddy's dazed brain she sank beside his chair, and, clasping his knees, sobbed: "I love you, I cannot help loving you, I cannot help telling you I love you! But you must hear the truth; you have heard it from others, but perhaps they softened it. If I marry you, people will always blame me and pity you.
I ain't one to set much store on worldly ambition, and I never was; and I d'know as I care for Lyddy's advancement, as you may call it. I believe that as far forth as true happiness goes she'd be as well off here as there. But I don't say but what she would be more satisfied in the end, and as long as you can't have happiness, in this world, I say you'd better have satisfaction.
George's Church is reckoned elegant, cousin! says I, resuming the conversation. "'D the statue! begins Will; but I said, 'Don't, cousin! or you will wake up the old gentleman. Had we not best go upstairs to Miss Lyddy's tea-table?
She ordered the domestics here and there; she drove to the mercer's and the jeweller's, and she called upon her friends with the utmost stateliness, or rode abroad with them to take the air. Theo and Hetty were both greatly diverted with her: but would the elder have been quite as well pleased had she known all Miss Lyddy's doings?
He could remember her noisy drinking, the weight of her elbow on the table, the creaking of her calico dress under the pressure of superabundant flesh. Besides, she had tried to scrub his favorite violin with sapolio. No, anything was better than Mrs. Buck as a constancy. He took off his hat unconsciously as he entered Lyddy's sitting-room.
"Lyddy's niece," she said, turning to Jane; "that girl from Madison she could pour for one, couldn't she?" "Sure," assented Jane. "Our niece, too sort o'," she added, correctively; for Eliza Marshall made little of certain vague ties to a half-brother. Mrs. Bates cast her eye round the dim, old-fashioned room.
Lyddy knew the right instinctively, and never failed to act upon her knowledge. What had been Lyddy's thoughts of Luke Ackroyd? Perhaps not very different from these to which she had been listening; for Lyddy too was a work-girl, not a lady. Yet the brave sister had kept it all hidden away; more, had done her very best to bring together Luke and someone else whom he loved.
"I wish Lyddy was here. She would convince you you were standing in your own light," returned Lyddy's widower in a perplexed tone. "I don't need one to come from the dead to show me my own mind," retorted Miss Doolittle, firmly. "Well, like enough you are right," said Captain Ben, mildly, putting a few stems of barberries in her pail; "ma' be it wouldn't be best. I don't want to be rash."
His wife's be'n two or three voyages with him in the Aroostook, and he'll know just how to have Lyddy's comfort looked after. He showed me the state-room she's goin' to have.
When the violin was laid away, she would sit in the twilight, by Davy's sofa, his thin hand in hers, and talk with Anthony about books and flowers and music, and about the meaning of life, too, its burdens and mistakes, and joys and sorrows; groping with him in the darkness to find a clue to God's purposes. Davy had long afternoons at Lyddy's house as the autumn grew into winter.
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