"I was the first night, but not the second," said Lucy. "I went to sleep in the midst of it."
"That was well. Now, come up with me in my room, while I take off my hat and habit."
There was a shade of anxiety and care under all Cousin Debby's cheery manner. The truth was, she had heard the report that there had been a great battle fought between the Duke of Marlborough's forces and those of the French king. It was no more than a rumour; but Cousin Debby well knew how apt such rumours are to prove true, and she wished to be at home with Lucy when any authentic news should arrive.
It was with a fluttering and sinking heart that Lucy followed her cousin along the gallery to her own room. She had fully determined to confess all her fault to Cousin Debby, whatever might be the consequence; nor did she swerve from her resolution as the time drew near for putting it into practice. Nevertheless, she trembled so violently that her limbs almost failed to support her, when she found herself alone with Mrs. Corbet in her own room.
If Cousin Deborah noticed her agitation, she probably imputed it to Lucy's late fright; for she made no remark upon it, but talked to Lucy of her journey, as she took off her riding-hat and bathed her face and hands. Then, sitting down in her chair, she called the little girl to her side, and put into her hands a small case, which she took from her pocket.
"Open it, my dear! See, this is the way."
Lucy opened it, and started with surprise. There lay the missing thimble, in all its old beauty of blue and white enamel, the gold as bright and pure as ever, with her mother's name upon the side.
"Had you missed it?" asked Cousin Deborah. "I had an opportunity of sending to Exeter: so I despatched it to the goldsmith there to be mended and made a little smaller, that you might sometimes have the pleasure of using your mother's thimble. Why, Lucy, my dear child, what is the matter?"
For Lucy had dropped upon her knees by her cousin's side, and, hiding her face in her lap, was crying so bitterly, that her whole frame was convulsed by her sobs.
"Hush! Hush! My child. You will make yourself ill," said Cousin Deborah, soothing her. "What is it makes you cry? Did you think the thimble was lost?"