By degrees they grew calmer, but Thomas could not rest till she knew all.
"Lucy," he said, "I can't be sure that all you give me is really mine till I've told you everything. Perhaps you won't love me—not so much—when you know all. So I must tell you."
"I don't care what it is, Thomas, for I am sure you won't again."
"I will not," said Thomas, solemnly. "But please, Lucy darling, listen to me—for my sake, not for your own, for it will hurt you so."
"If it will make you easier, Thomas, tell me everything."
"I will—I will. I will hide nothing."
And Thomas did tell her everything. But Lucy cried so much, that when he came to the part describing his adventures in London after he took the money, he felt greatly tempted, and yielded to the temptation, to try to give her the comical side as well. And at the very first hint of fun in the description he gave of Jim Salter, Lucy burst into such a fit of laughter, that Thomas was quite frightened, for it seemed as if she would never stop. So that between the laughing and crying Thomas felt like Christian between the quagmire and the pitfalls, and was afraid to say anything. But at length the story was told; and how Lucy did, besides laughing and crying, at every new turn of the story—to show my reader my confidence in him I leave all that to his imagination, assuring him only that it was all right between them. My women readers will not require even this amount of information, for they have the gift of understanding without being told.
When he came to the point of his father offering to provide for them if he would give up Lucy, he hesitated, and said:
"Ought I to have done it, Lucy, for your sake?"
"For my sake, Tom! If you had said for granny's—But I know her well enough to be absolutely certain that she would starve rather than accept a penny from him, except as her right. Besides, I can make more money in a year than he would give her, I am pretty sure. So if you will keep me, Tom, I will keep her."