"Ah! but I am not brave," she replied; "not a bit--not a little tiny bit! That is why I am so glad you have come home to take care of me."
He took her at once to Margaret, and told her that Lucy was his pride, his heart, the flower of his life. Before they were in each other's company an hour, these two girls--for Margaret, although a woman in sorrow, was but a girl in years--were like sisters. Mr. Hart's face was radiant as he saw them sitting together, and observed their affectionate demeanour. Their natures, however, were different. Margaret, as you have seen in her happier days, was sparkling, vivacious, restless; Lucy was timid, yielding, more passive. The passions that agitated Margaret's breast were at once seen on the surface, in all their strength; those by which Lucy was moved were unrevealed except to the eyes of love in their quieter aspect, whether of joy or sorrow. These two girls fell immediately into their natural positions. Margaret assumed the office of protector, and Lucy, to whom dependence was a pleasure, accepted with gratefulness the shield which her new friend threw before her. Each, in her way, thanked Mr. Hart for giving her such a friend.
They had lodgings in the heart of Plymouth. Margaret and Mr. Hart, setting out in quest of them, saw in a shop-window the announcement that rooms were to be let in that house. The shop was a clothes-shop of not the best kind, and at the door stood a man of Jewish aspect, who was evidently attracted by Margaret's face.
"Did you notice how that man stared at you, Margaret?" asked Mr. Hart.
"No," was the reply, in an indifferent tone.
She turned, and saw the man still staring at her. He was loosely and somewhat slovenly dressed, but his eyes were so wonderfully sparkling, and his handsome face (although he was at least fifty years of age) wore such a cheerful and almost philanthropic expression, that the chances were if your eyes rested once upon him you would turn again to look.
The man came forward.
"I beg your pardon," he said, in a slightly guttural tone, "but you are strangers in Plymouth?"
He did not look at Mr. Hart.
"We are strangers," replied Mr. Hart.