“It has been my secret companion,” said Lucy, gazing at it with deep emotion, “and my silent monitress ever since poor mamma's death. It seemed to say to me with those sweet lips that will never more move: Be patient, my child, and put your firm trust in the hopes of a better life, for this world is one of trial and suffering.”
“That is all very fine, Lucy,” said her father, somewhat fretfully; “but it would have been as well if she had preached a lesson of obedience at the same time. However, you had better withdraw, my dear; as I told you, Thomas and I have many important matters to talk over.”
“I am ready to go, papa,” she replied; “but, by the way, my dear Thomas, I had always heard that you resembled her very much; instead of that, you are papa's very image.”
“A circumstance which will take from his favor with you, Lucy, I fear,” observed her father; “but, indeed, I myself am surprised at the change that has come over you, Thomas; for, unquestionably, when young you were very like her.”
“These changes are not at all unfrequent, I believe,” replied his son. “I have myself known instances where the individual when young resembled one parent, and yet, in the course of time, became as it were the very image and reflex of the other.”
“You are perfectly right, Tom,” said his father; “every family is aware of the fact, and you yourself are a remarkable illustration of it.”
“I am not sorry for resembling my dear father, Lucy,” observed her brother; “and I know I shall lose nothing in your good will on that account, but rather gain by it.”
Lucy's eyes were already filled with tears at the ungenerous and unfeeling insinuation of her father.
“You shall not, indeed, Thomas,” she replied; “and you, papa, are scarcely just to me in saying so. I judge no person by their external appearance, nor do I suffer myself to be prejudiced by looks, although I grant that the face is very often, but by no means always, an index to the character. I judge my friends by my experience of their conduct—by their heart—their principles—their honor. Good-by, now, my dear brother; I am quite impatient to hear your history, and I am sure you will gratify me as soon as you can.”
She took his hand and kissed it, but, in the act of doing so, observed under every nail a semicircular line of black drift that jarred very painfully on her feelings. Tom then imprinted a kiss upon her forehead, and she withdrew.