“My love,” says Mrs. Stone in a low tone, “you have always intended and wished to send Jock to school; you must not forget that—”
There was nothing hostile to the new reign in these two women, at least not in this respect. Their deprecation and soothing were quite sincere. But Lady Randolph was a woman who had all her wits about her. She watched every indication of the thorny new ground which she was treading with a watchful eye; and she saw that Lucy’s expression changed from that of quiet gravity and sadness into an energy which was almost impassioned. The girl’s hands caught at each other, her lips quivered, every feature moved. “He is all I have,” Lucy cried out suddenly, “everything I have! and he is such a little, little fellow. Oh, don’t mind petting me—what do I care for dresses or things? but I want Jock; oh, let me have Jock!”
“Hush, hush, Lucy; hush, dear,” whispered Mrs. Stone, with sympathetic looks, and Mrs. Ford put her handkerchief to her eyes and vowed, sobbing, that she would take every care of him. They were both half frightened by the sudden vehemence which was unlike Lucy. And at this moment there was a knock at the door, and Philip Rainy put in his head.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but may I speak to Lucy for a moment? I thought you would like to know that they have no objections, Lucy—not the least objection. I am to have Jock. I told Mr. Rushton that I felt sure you would trust him to me.”
Lucy felt that she had no longer any power of speech. She put her hands together instinctively, and gave Lady Randolph a piteous look; her heart swelled as if it would burst. Was it a judgment upon her for not being heart-broken, as perhaps she ought to have been, for the loss of her father? To have little Jock taken away from her was like tearing a piece of herself away.
But Lady Randolph had all her wits about her. It was not likely, if the sight of this comely young man who called the heiress Lucy, had alarmed even the men upstairs, that a woman would be less alive to the danger. She took Lucy’s hand into her own, and pressed them kindly between hers.
“I don’t know this gentleman, my dear,” she said, “and I don’t doubt he is very kind; but I am sure it would be mistaken kindness to separate these two poor children now. Just after one great loss, she is not in a fit state to bear another wrench. No. I don’t know who Jock is, and I have not much room in my little house; but you shall have your Jock, my dear. I will not be the one to take him from you,” Lady Randolph said.
This was a thing which no one had so much as thought of. They all gazed at her with wonder and admiration, while Lucy, in the sudden relief, fell a-crying, more subdued and broken down than she had yet shown herself. While the girl was being caressed and soothed, Mrs. Stone went away, finding no room for her own ministrations. She said, “That is a very clever woman,” to Philip Rainy at the door.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE NEW LIFE.
Lady Randolph made haste to strike while the iron was hot. She was a clever woman, conscious enough (though, perhaps, no more than other people) of her own interests, and with schemes in her mind (as everybody had) of other interests to be served through the heiress, whom it had been one of the successes of her later life to obtain the charge of; but, having got this, she had no other intention than to treat Lucy kindly, and to make her life, which would add so many comforts to Lady Randolph’s, pleasant and happy to herself. The best way to do this was to win the girl’s heart. Lady Randolph had not been seized with love at first sight for her new charge; but she was rather prepossessed than otherwise by Lucy’s appearance, and she was anxious to get hold of her and secure her affections with as little delay as possible; and when she informed Mrs. Ford, as she sipped the cup of tea which that excellent woman prepared for her, that she was going to pass the night at the Hall, and that to return to that scene of her happier life was always “a trial” to her, she had already touched a chord of sympathy in Lucy’s heart.