‘It is true,’ said Lucy, sitting down by her. ‘Perhaps I thought I did, but if the other had ever been as much to me, I could never have used him as I did! Oh, Honor, when a person is made of the stuff I am, it is very hard to tell which is one’s heart, and which is one’s flirting-machine! for the other thing does simulate all the motions, and feel real true pain! But I know now that Mr. Pendy was safe in my rear heart of hearts
all the time, though I never guessed it, and thought he was only a sort of father; but you see that was why I was always in awe of getting under Robert’s dominion, and why I survived his turning me off, and didn’t at all wish him to bring it on again.’
‘No, that you did not,’ said Honor, in a cheered voice, as if acquitting her.
‘And I am sure if Mr. Prendergast only looked like using me after my deserts, as he did, it would not be only a demi-decline that I should get into,’ said Lucilla, her eyes full of tears. ‘Oh! Honor, think of his care of my father! Kiss me and wish me joy in my father’s name, and like him; for when you know him, you will see he is the only person in the wide world to whom you could safely trust your little torment!’
Honor could not but be carried along to give the hearty kiss and motherly congratulation as they were sought, and she saw that she must believe what Lucy said of her own feelings, incomprehensible though they were. But she regretted to hear of the waiting for a college living, and at the first impulse wished she had heard of this attachment before Hiltonbury’s fate had been fixed.
‘For shame, Honor, as if you ought not to respect Hiltonbury too much to tack it to my petticoat! But at least thank you, for if you could once think of committing Hiltonbury to him, you must like it for me.’
‘I must like what is so evidently well for you, my child! Will you tell Phœbe?’
‘Not till we go home, I think,’ said Cilla, with a blush; and, as if to avoid farther discussion, she bade Honora good night. Decidedly, she wished Robert to feel more than she would like to see, or should he betray no feeling, she had rather not be aware of it.
But such news was already in town as to put to flight, for a time at least, the last remnants of coquetry.
Robert was in the house early in the morning, and called Miss Charlecote to speak to him in the study. He had a packet of letters in his hand, of which he gave one to herself, a long one in Owen’s writing, but unfinished and undirected.