ch robbed Lizzie's
departure of some of the importance which might otherwise have
been attached to it. The post-office, with that accuracy in the
performance of its duties for which it is conspicuous among all
offices, caused Lucy's letter to be delivered to her while the
members of the family were sitting round the breakfast table.
Lizzie, indeed, was not there. She had expressed her intention of
breakfasting in her own room, and had requested that a conveyance
might be ready to take her to the 11.30 train. Augusta had been with
her, asking whether anything could be done for her. "I care for
nothing now, except my child," Lizzie had replied. As the nurse and
the lady's maid were both in the room, Augusta, of course, could say
nothing further. That occurred after prayers, and while the tea was
being made. When Augusta reached the breakfast-room, Lucy was cutting
up the loaf of bread, and at the same moment the old butler was
placing a letter immediately under her eyes. She saw the handwriting
and recognised it, but yet she finished cutting the bread. "Lucy, do
give me that hunchy bit," said Nina.

"Hunchy is not in the dictionary," said Cecilia.

"I want it in my plate, and not in the dictionary," said Nina.

Lucy did as she was asked, but her hand trembled as she gave the
hunch, and Lady Fawn saw that her face was crimson. She took the
letter and broke the envelope, and as she drew out the sheet of
paper, she looked up at Lady Fawn. The fate of her whole life was in
her hands, and there she was standing with all their eyes fixed upon
her. She did not even know how to sit down, but, still standing, she
read the first words, and at the last, "Dear, dear Lucy,"--"Yours
ever and always, if you will have me, F. G." She did not want to read
any more of it then. She sat down slowly, put the precious paper back
into its envelope, looked round upon them all, and knew that she was
crimson to the roots of her hair, blushing like a guilty thing.

"Lucy, my dear," said Lady Fawn,--and Lucy at once turned her face
full upon her old friend,--"you have got a letter that agitates you."

"Yes,--I have," she said.

"Go into the book-room. You can come back to breakfast when you have
read it, you know." Thereupon Lucy rose from her seat, and retired
with her treasure into the book-room. But even when she was there she
could not at once read her letter. When the door was closed and she
knew that she was alone she looked at it, and t