happiness seems a necessary of existence. It is
calculated upon without misgiving; it is simple nature, beyond question.
But when the natural "of course" has once been broken, it is with a
warmer glow of content that we see the prospect once more stretching
before us bright as at first and more assured. This is how Lucy had been
regarding her life. It was not so simple, so easy as it once had been,
but the happiness to which she was looking forward, and which she had
already partially entered into possession of, was all the more sweet and
dear, that she had known, or fancied herself about to know, the loss and
absence of it. Now, in a moment, all that fair prospect, that blessed
certainty, was gone. The earth was cut away from under her feet; she
felt everything to be tottering, falling round her, and nothing in all
the universe to lay hold of to prop herself up; for when the pillars of
the world are thus unrooted the heaving of the earthquake and the
falling of the ruins impart a certain vertigo and giddy instability even
to heaven.

Fletcher, Lucy's maid, who was usually discreet enough, waited upon her
mistress that morning with a certain air of importance, and of knowing
something which she was bursting with eagerness to tell, such as must
have attracted Lady Randolph's attention in any other circumstances. But
Lucy was far too much occupied with what was in her own mind to observe
the perturbation of the maid, who consequently had no resource, since
her mistress would not question her, than to introduce herself the
subject on which she was so anxious to utter her mind. She began by
inquiring if her ladyship had heard the music last night. "The music?"
Lucy said.

"Oh, my lady, haven't you heard what a singer Miss Beachy has turned
out?" Fletcher cried.

Lucy, to whom all this seemed dim and far away as if it had happened
years ago, answered with a faint smile--"Yes, she has a lovely voice."

"It is not my place," said Fletcher, "being only a servant, to make
remarks; but, my lady, if I might make so bold, it do seem to the like
of us an 'orrible thing to take advantage of a young lady like your
ladyship that thinks no harm."

"You should not make such remarks," said Lucy, roused a little.

"No, my lady; but still a woman is a woman, even though but a servant. I
said to Mrs. Freshwater I was sure your ladyship would never sanction
it. I never thought that of Miss Beachy, I will allow. I always said she
was a