“Have you not seen her since?” said the curate.
And then followed much long happy planning for the future, in which Agnes Hardon and her little golden-haired child had their share, and Somesham was more than once mentioned in connection with reconciliations.
Time will fly at such times, and after Arthur Sterne had told of his arrangements that he had already made for the child, and once more related his interview with Agnes, smiling at the pain of Lucy as he lightly touched upon his mishap, one that he gloried in as he felt the maiden’s soft cheek laid to his throbbing heart—after all this, and much more that both had forgotten as soon as spoken, the curate discovered that the interview had lasted more than two hours, though much of that time had been spent in a silence that neither felt disposed to break—a silence quite in unison with the doctor’s orders, since he had left instructions that for some days yet the patient was to be kept perfectly undisturbed.
But there is an end to all things, and Arthur Sterne did not look much the worse for his visitor, when Aunt Fanny tapped gently at the door to announce another in the shape of Septimus Hardon come to escort his step-child back to their new home.
And that night, upon her way back, the something new that appeared to have come over the spirit of Lucy Grey was more than ever manifest; the ever-anxious look had departed, and her step was light, bounding, and elastic as she walked on by Septimus Hardon’s side; a strange contrast—now quiet and hopeful, now elate and light-hearted, as she conversed, while every topic was tinged with the future.
“And what did Mr Sterne want?” said Septimus as his eyes twinkled, half from merriment, half from sadness, as he drew the graceful arm he held farther through his own.
Lucy was serious in a moment, and as she turned beneath a street-lamp and looked in her stepfather’s face, he abused himself roundly, for he could see tears glittering in the bright eyes that met his own.
“Don’t, don’t ask me, dear,” whispered Lucy. “Don’t talk of it now, for indeed, indeed, I could not leave you.”
“Hush, hush,” whispered Septimus soothingly, for they passed another post, and he could this time see how fast the tears were falling, and now he tried to change the conversation.
“But he’s getting better now very fast, eh? my darling,” whispered Septimus.