“Perhaps we ought, papa; but could we do so? that's-the question.”
“Surely the tradesman affects no such squeamishness about what he offers for sale.”
“True, papa; because none of his wares have caught any clew to his identity. They have never been his in the sense which makes possession pleasure.”
“I wish they would not laugh without there; their coarse laughter sounds to me so like vulgar ridicule. I hardly thought all this would have made me so irritable; even the children's voices jar on my nerves.”
He turned away his head, but her eyes followed him, and two heavy tears stole slowly along her cheek, and her lip quivered as she looked.
“There, they are going away,” said he, listening; “I am better now.”
“That 's right, dearest papa; I knew it was a mere passing pang,” said she, drawing her arm within his, and walking along at his side. “How kind Sir Brook is!”
“How kind every one, we might say. Poor Mills is like a brother, and Tobin too,—I scarcely expected so much heart from him. He gave me his old lancet-case as a keepsake yesterday, and I declare his voice trembled as he said good-bye.”
“As for the poor people, I hear, papa, that one would think they had lost their nearest and dearest. Molly Dew says they were crying in her house this morning over their breakfast as if it was a funeral.”
“Is it not strange, Lucy, that what touches the heart so painfully should help to heal the pang it gives? There is that in all this affection for us that gladdens while it grieves. All,—all are so kind to us! That young fellow—Trafford I think his name is—he was waiting at the post for his letters this morning when I came up, and it seems that Foss-brooke had told him of my appointment,—indiscreet of him, for I would not wish it talked of; but Trafford turned to him and said, 'Ask Dr. Lendrick, is he decided about going;' and when he heard that I was, he scarcely said goodbye, but jumped into a cab, and drove off full speed.