He was going now to tell “the little girl much like Jessie” of Lucy Atherstone, and the words would not come at first.
“Maddy,” he said, again blushing guiltily, “I have said I liked you, and so I hope will some one else. I have written of you to her.”
Up to this point Maddy had a vague idea that he meant the doctor, but the “her” dispelled that thought, and a most inexplicable feeling of numbness crept over her as she asked faintly:
“Written to whom?”
Guy did not look at Maddy. He only knew that her head moved out from beneath his hand as he replied:
“To Miss Atherstone—Miss Lucy Atherstone. Have you never heard of her?”
No, Maddy never had, and with that same numbness she could not understand, she listened while Guy told her who Lucy Atherstone was, and why she was not at that moment the mistress of Aikenside. There was no reason why Guy should be excited, but he was, and he talked very rapidly, never once glancing at Maddy until he had finished speaking. She was looking at him intently, wondering if he could hear as she did the beatings of her heart. Had her life depended upon it, she could not at first have spoken, for the numbness which, like bands of steel, seemed to press all the feeling out of it. She did not know why it was that hearing of Lucy Atherstone should affect her so. Surely she ought to be glad for Guy that he possessed the love of so sweet a creature as he described her to be. He was glad, she knew, he talked so energetically—so much as if it were a pleasure to talk; and she was glad, too, only it had taken her so by surprise to know that Mr. Guy, whom she had rather considered as exclusively her own and Jessie’s was engaged, and that some time, before long it might be, Aikenside would really have a mistress. She did not quite understand Guy’s last words, although she was looking at him, and he asked her twice if she would like to see Lucy’s picture ere she comprehended what he meant.
“Yes,” came faintly from the parted lips, about which there was a slight quiver as she put up her hand to take the case Guy drew from his bosom.
Turning it to the light she gazed silently upon the sweet young face, which seemed to return her gaze with a look as earnest and lifelike as her own.
“What do you think of her—of my Lucy? Is she not pretty?” Guy asked, bending down so that his dark hair swept against Maddy’s, while his warm breath touched her burning cheeks.