“Lucy,” said Arthur, with a depth of feeling, “she spoils everything!!!”
Next morning —— come back? What for? I will have the goodness to tell you what she said in his ear? Why, nothing.
You are a female reader? Oh! that alters the case. To attempt to deceive you would be cowardly, immoral; it would fail. She sighed, “My preserver!” at which David had much ado not to laugh in her face. Then she murmured still more softly, “You must come and see me at my home before you sail—will you not? I insist” (in the tone of a supplicant), “come, promise me.”
“That I will—with pleasure,” said David, flushing.
“Mind, it is a promise. Put me down. Lucy, come here and make him put me down. I will not be a burden to my friends.”
CHAPTER VIII.
THAT same evening, Mrs. Bazalgette, being alone with Lucy in the drawing-room, put her arm round that young lady's waist, and lovingly, not seriously, as a man might have been apt to do, reminded her of her honorable promise—not to be caught in the net of matrimony at Font Abbey. Lucy answered, without embarrassment, that she claimed no merit for keeping her word. No one had had the ill taste to invite her to break it.
“You are either very sly or very blind,” replied Mrs. Bazalgette, quietly.
“Aunt!” said Lucy, piteously.