The words suggested a meaning that Lady Munro did not altogether like, but she answered lightly,—
"It has been a great pleasure to all of us to have you, dear; but you know we don't mean to let you go on Thursday."
Lucy smiled. "I must," she said sadly. "A week hence it will all seem like a beautiful dream—a dream that will last me all my life."
"Well, I am glad to think the roses in your cheeks are no dream, and I hope they will last you all your life, too."
And then the careless words re-echoed through her mind with a deeper significance, and she wished Sir Douglas would wake up and talk, even if it were only to grumble.
That night there were two private conversations.
Evelyn had gone into Lucy's room to brush her hair in company.
"What a touching sight!" said Lucy, laughing suddenly, as, by the dancing firelight, she caught sight of the two fair young figures in the mirror—their loosened hair falling all about their shoulders. "Come on with your confidences! Now is the time. At least so they say in books."
"Unfortunately I have not got any confidences."
"Nor have I—thank heaven!" She bent low over the glowing wood-fire. "What slavery love must be!"