‘Then it is all right!’ exclaimed Owen, joyously. ‘Do you think old Fulmort, wallowing in gold, could see a son of his living with his curates, as in the old Sussex rhyme?—
There were three ghostisses
Sitting on three postisses,
Eating of three crustisses.
No, depend on it, the first alarm of Robert becoming a ghost, there will be a famous good fat living bought for him; and then—’
‘No, I shall have been a governess. They won’t consent.’
‘Pshaw! What are the Fulmorts? He would honour you the more! No, Lucy,’ and he drew her up from the floor, and put his arm round her, ‘girls who stick to one as you have done to me are worth something, and so is Robert Fulmort. You don’t know what he has been to me ever since he came to fetch me. I didn’t believe it was in his cloth or his nature to be so forbearing. No worrying with preachments; not a bit of “What a good boy am I;” always doing the very thing that was comfortable and considerate, and making the best of it at Hiltonbury. I didn’t know how he could be capable of it, but now I see, it was for your sake. Cheer up, Lucy, you will find it right yet.’
Lucilla had no conviction that he was right; but she was willing to believe for the time, and was glad to lay her head on his shoulder and feel, while she could, that she had something entirely her own. Too soon it would be over. Lengthen the evening as they would, morning must come at last.
It came; the hurried breakfast, pale looks, and trivial words. Robert arrived to watch them off; Mrs. Murrell brought the child. Owen took him in his arms, and called her to the study. Robert sat still, and said—
‘I will do what I can. I think, in case I had to write about the child, you had better leave me your address.’
Lucilla wrote it on a card. The tone quashed all hope.
‘We trust to you,’ she said.