She could not stop to consider what to say or do, her refuge was always in the impromptu, and she was far more bent on forcing Mr. Prendergast to smile, and distracting herself from her one aching desire that the Irish journey had never been, than of forming any plan of action. In walking to the cabstand they met Robert, and exchanged greetings; a sick faintness came over her, but she talked it down, and her laugh sounded in his ears when they had passed on.
Yet when the lodgings were reached, the sensation recurred, her breath came short, and she could hardly conceal her trembling. No one was in the room but a lady who would have had far to seek for a governess less beautiful than herself. Insignificance was the first idea she inspired, motherliness the second, the third that she was a perfect lady, and a sensible woman. After shaking Lucilla kindly by the hand, and seating her on the sofa, she turned to her cousin, saying, ‘Sarah and her papa are at the National Gallery, I wish you would look for them, or they will never be in time for luncheon.’
‘Luncheon is not for an hour and a half.’
‘But it is twenty minutes’ walk, and they will forget food and everything else unless you keep them in order.’
‘I’ll go presently;’ but he did not move, only looking piteous while Mrs. Prendergast began talking to Lucilla about the pictures, until she, recovering, detected the state of affairs, and exclaimed with her ready grace and abruptness, ‘Now, Mr. Prendergast, don’t you see how much you are in the way?’
‘A plain truth, Peter,’ said his cousin, laughing.
Lucy stepped forward to him, saying affectionately, ‘Please go; you can’t help me, and I am sure you may trust me with Mrs. Prendergast;’ and she stretched out a hand to the lady with an irresistible child-like gesture of confidence.
‘Don’t you think you may, Peter?’ asked Mrs. Prendergast,
holding the hand; ‘you shall find her here at luncheon. I won’t do anything to her.’
The good curate groaned himself off, and Lucy felt so much restored that she had almost forgotten that it was not an ordinary call. Indeed she had never yet heard a woman’s voice that thus attracted and softened her. Mrs. Prendergast needed not to be jealous of Venus, while she had such tenderness in her manner, such winning force in her tone.