It was with a heart wonderfully lightened that she went home to her grandmother. This new cloud of terror had almost passed away; it only lightened a little on the horizon when she thought of having again to hear what Mr. Sargent wanted to say.
That same evening he came. Lucy never lifted her eyes to his face, even when she held out her hand to him. He misinterpreted her embarrassment; and he found argument to strengthen his first impression; for a moment after, summoning all her courage, and remembering very conveniently a message she had had for him, Lacy said to her grandmother:
"Mr. Kitely said he would like to see you, grannie, about the papers for our rooms. He has got some patterns."
"I have done with this world, child, and all its vanities," said Mrs. Boxall, with a touch of asperity.
"It would only be polite, though, grannie, as he is taking so much trouble about it, to go and see them. He is so kind!"
"We're going to pay him for his kindness," said the old dame, soured out of her better judgment, and jealous of Mr. Sargent supposing that they were accepting charity.
"No, grannie. That nobody ever could do. Kindness is just what can't be paid for, do what you will."
"I see you want to get rid of me," she said, rising; "so I suppose I had better go. Things are changed. Old people must learn to do as they're bid. You'll be teaching me my catechism next, I suppose."
Mrs. Boxall walked out of the room with as stiff a back as she had ever assumed in the days of her prosperity. The moment the door closed, Mr. Sargent approached Lucy, who had remained standing, and would have taken her hand, but she drew it away, and took the lead.
"I am very sorry if I have led you into any mistake, Mr. Sargent. I was so distressed at what you said the other evening, that I made this opportunity for the sake of removing at once any misapprehension. I wish to remind you, that I considered the subject you resumed then as quite settled."