cy sat many hours alone in the business parlour--an apartment not
decorated with the distinct view of imparting cheerfulness to the human
temperament. The mantelpiece was covered with files of bills. There were
rows of numbered keys against the wall. Mrs. Rowe's old desk--_style
Empire_ she said, when any visitor noticed the handsome ruin--stood in a
corner by the window, covered with account books, prospectuses and cards
of the establishment, and heaps of old newspapers. Another corner showed
heaps of folded linen, parcels left for boarders, umbrellas and sticks,
which had been forgotten by old customers (Mrs. Rowe called them
clients), and aunt's walking-boots. One corner was Lucy's, which she
occupied in conjunction with a little table, at which, from seven in the
morning until bedtime, she worked with pen or needle (it was provoking
she could not learn to ply both at one time), when she was not running
about the house, or nursing a boarder's baby. On the rare evenings when
her aunt could not find work of any description for her, Lucy was
requested to take the Bible from the shelf, and read a chapter aloud.
When her aunt went to sleep during the reading Lucy continued steadily,
knowing that the scion of the illustrious house of Whyte would wake
directly her voice ceased.

Occasionally the clergyman would drop in; whereupon Lucy would hear much
improving discourse between her aunt and the reverend gentleman. Mrs.
Rowe poured all her griefs into the ear of the Reverend Horace
Mohun--griefs which she kept from the world. Before Lucy she spoke
freely--being accustomed to regard the timid girl as a child still,
whose mind could not gather the threads of her narrative. Lucy sate--not
listening, but hearing snatches of the mournful circumstances with which
Mrs. Rowe troubled Mr. Mohun. The reverend gentleman was a patient and
an attentive listener; and drank his tea and ate his toast (it was only
at Mrs. Rowe's he said he could ever get a good English round of toast),
shaking his head, or offering a consoling "dear, dear me!" as the
droning proceeded. Lucy was at work. If Mrs. Rowe caught her pausing she
would break her story to say--"If you have finished 42 account, put down
two candles to 10, and a foot-bath to 14." And Lucy--who seldom paused
because she had finished her task, as her aunt knew well--bent over the
table again, and was as content as she was weary. When she went up to
her bedroom (which the cook had perempto