only veiled by a blind, and comforted himself
a little in the sunshine. The death atmosphere weighed upon the young
man and took away his courage. If he was only wanted to pave the way
for the reception of the rascally brother for whose sins he felt
convinced he was himself suffering, the consolation of being appealed
to would be sensibly lessened, and it was hard to have no other way of
clearing himself than by criminating Lucy's brother, and bringing
dishonour upon her name. While he waited for Miss Wodehouse's return,
he stood by Lucy's table, with very little of the feeling which had
once prompted him to fold his arms so caressingly with an impulse of
tenderness upon the chair which stood beside it. He was so much
absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not hear at first the sound
of a hesitating hand upon the door, which at length, when repeated,
went to the Curate's heart. He turned round rapidly, and saw Lucy
standing on the threshold in her profound mourning. She was very pale,
and her blue eyes looked large and full beyond their natural
appearance, dilated with tears and watching; and when they met those
of Mr Wentworth, they filled full like flower-cups with dew; but
besides this Lucy made no demonstration of her grief. After that
momentary hesitation at the door, she came in and gave the Curate her
hand. Perhaps it was a kind of defiance, perhaps a natural yearning,
which drew her out of her chamber when she heard of his presence; both
sentiments sprang out of the same feeling; and the Curate, when he
looked at her, bethought himself of the only moment when he had been
able to imagine that Lucy loved him; that moment by her father's
bedside, of which the impression had been dulled since then by a crowd
of events, when she looked with such reproach and disappointment and
indignation into his face.

"I heard you were here," said Lucy, "and I thought you might think it
strange not to see us both." And then she paused, perhaps finding it
less easy than she thought to explain why she had come. "We ought to
thank you, Mr Wentworth, for your kindness, though I--"

"You were angry with me," said the Curate. "I know you thought me
heartless; but a man must bear to be misconceived when he has duty to
do," the young clergyman added, with a swelling heart. Lucy did not
know the fuller significance of his words; and there was a loftiness
in them which partly affronted her, and set all her sensitive
woman-pride in arms