And then Miss Lydia was sorrier for him than ever. "Although," she said, cheerfully, "poverty is the last thing to worry about. Look at me. I don't want to brag, but I'm always contented, and I'll tell you why: I don't want things. Don't want things, and then you're not unhappy without 'em."
"Oh, Lydy, that's so true," Mr. Rives said, earnestly. "I'm so glad you feel that way." And he began to call every day.
"It's plain to be seen what's going to happen," said Mrs. Barkley, excitedly, and whispered her hopes (in secret) to almost everybody in Old Chester—except Dr. Lavendar. He became very ill-tempered the moment she approached the subject. But she was jocose, in a deep bass, to Miss Lydia herself; and Miss Lydia did not pretend to misunderstand. She reddened and laughed; but her eyes were not clear; there was a puzzled look at the back of them. Still, when she sat and looked at her gold the puzzle lightened, and her face, under her black frizette—in her excitement fallen sidewise over one ear—softened almost to tears. "William is kind," she said to herself.
And, indeed, at that very moment William was referring to her in most kindly terms. He was sitting in Mrs. Barkley's gloomy parlor, on the edge of the horse-hair sofa, and Mrs. Barkley was regarding him with romantic interest. "I have been much saddened, ma'am," he was saying, "to observe the destitution of Miss Lydia Sampson."
Mrs. Barkley beamed. Was he going to do something, after all? She spoke in an amiable bass, twitching her heavy eyebrows. "Our little gift, which has gone to her to-night, will make her more comfortable. I could wish it had been larger," she ended, and looked sidewise at Mr. Rives, who bowed and regretted that it was not larger. He then coughed behind his hand.
"Mrs. Barkley, I wish to approach a subject of some delicacy."
("He is going to do something," she thought, excitedly; "or perhaps he means marriage!")
"Mrs. Barkley, in past years there were passages of affection between Miss Sampson and myself" (Mrs. Barkley bowed; her heart began to glow with that warmth which stirs the oldest of us at the sight of a lover).
"We were younger in those days, ma'am," William said, in his soft voice.
"Oh no!" she protested, politely. "Why, you are very well preserved, I'm sure."