ime as we have done."
"Yes, something much more," said he with energy.
"Well, I will not define the much--something closer than that?"
"Yes, and warmer, and dearer, and more worthy of two human creatures
who value each other's minds and hearts."
"Some such closer regard I have felt for you--very foolishly. Stop!
You have made me speak, and do not interrupt me now. Does not your
conscience tell you that in doing so I have unwisely deserted those
wise old grandmother's tramways of which you spoke just now? It
has been pleasant to me to do so. I have liked the feeling of
independence with which I have thought that I might indulge in an
open friendship with such as you are. And your rank, so different
from my own, has doubtless made this more attractive."
"Nonsense!"
"Ah! but it has. I know it now. But what will the world say of me as
to such an alliance?"
"The world!"
"Yes, the world! I am not such a philosopher as to disregard it,
though you may afford to do so. The world will say that I, the
parson's sister, set my cap at the young lord, and that the young
lord had made a fool of me."
"The world shall say no such thing!" said Lord Lufton, very
imperiously.
"Ah! but it will. You can no more stop it, than King Canute could the
waters. Your mother has interfered wisely to spare me from this; and
the only favour that I can ask you is, that you will spare me also."
And then she got up, as though she intended at once to walk forth to
her visit to Mrs. Podgens' baby.
"Stop, Lucy!" he said, putting himself between her and the door.
"It must not be Lucy any longer, Lord Lufton; I was madly foolish
when I first allowed it."
"By heavens! but it shall be Lucy--Lucy before all the world. My
Lucy, my own Lucy--my heart's best friend, and chosen love. Lucy,
there is my hand. How long you may have had my heart it matters not
to say now." The game was at her feet now, and no doubt she felt her
triumph. Her ready wit and speaking lip, not her beauty, had brought
him to her side; and now he was forced to acknowledge that her power
over him had been supreme. Sooner than leave her he would risk all.
She did feel her triumph; but there was nothing in her face to tell
him that she did so. As to what she would now do she did not for a
moment doubt. He had been precipitated into the declaration he had
made not by his love, but by his embarrassment. She had thrown in his
teeth the injury which he had done her, and h
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