‘Ah, well! I am glad my poor father does not see it. He would have said the business was going to the dogs!’
‘No; he was fast coming into Robert’s views, and I heartily wish I had not hindered him.’
Augusta told her admiral that evening that there was no hope for the family, since Robert had got hold of Mervyn as well as of the rest of them. People in society actually asked her about the schools and playground at Mr. Fulmort’s distillery; there had been an educational report about them. Quite disgusting!
There passed a day of conflicting hope and fear, soothed by the pleasure of preparation, and at seven in the evening there came the ring at the house door, and Lucilla was once more in Honora’s arms. It was for a moment a convulsive embrace, but it was not the same lingering clinging as when she met Phœbe, nor did she look so much changed as then, for there was a vivid tint of rose on either cheek; she had restored her hair to the familiar fashion, and her eyes were bright with excitement. The presence of Maria and Bertha, which Miss Charlecote had regretted, was probably a relief; for Lucilla, as she threw off her bonnet, and sat down to the ‘severe tea’
awaiting her, talked much to them, observed upon their growth, noticed the little Maltese dog, and compared her continental experiences with Bertha’s. To Honor she scarcely spoke voluntarily, and cast down her eyes as she did so, making brief work of answers to inquiries, and showing herself altogether disappointingly the old Cilly. Robert’s absence was also a disappointment to Honor, though she satisfied herself that it was out of consideration.
Lucy would not go up to her room till bed-time; and when Honor, accompanying her thither, asked tender and anxious questions about her health, she answered them, not indeed petulantly, as of old, but with a strange, absent manner, as if it were duty alone that made her speak. Only when Honor spoke of her again seeing the physician whom she had consulted, she at first sharply refused, then, as if recollecting herself, meekly said: ‘As you think fit, but I had rather it was not the same.’
‘I thought he was your own preference,’ said Honor, ‘otherwise I should have preferred Dr. F.’
‘Very well, let it be,’ said Lucy, hastily.
The good-nights, the kisses past, and Honor went away, with a heavy load of thwarted hopes and baffled yearning at her heart—yearnings which could be stilled only in one way.
A knock. She started up, and called ‘Come in,’ and a small, white, ghostly figure glided in, the hands tightly clasped together.