Crawley what
was to be her destiny in life. To herself there seemed nothing
strange in her new position; but to Mrs. Crawley it was wonderful
that she--she, poor as she was--should have an embryo peeress at her
bedside, handing her her cup to drink, and smoothing her pillow that
she might be at rest. It was strange, and she could hardly maintain
her accustomed familiarity. Lucy felt this at the moment.
"It must make no difference, you know," said she, eagerly; "none
at all, between you and me. Promise me that it shall make no
difference." The promise was, of course, exacted; but it was not
possible that such a promise should be kept. Very early on the
following morning--so early that it woke her while still in her first
sleep--there came a letter for her from the parsonage. Mrs. Robarts
had written it, after her return home from Lady Lufton's dinner. The
letter said:--
MY OWN DARLING,--
How am I to congratulate you, and be eager enough in
wishing you joy? I do wish you joy, and am so very happy.
I write now chiefly to say that I shall be over with you
about twelve to-morrow, and that I must bring you away
with me. If I did not some one else, by no means so
trustworthy, would insist on doing it.
But this, though it was thus stated to be the chief part of the
letter, and though it might be so in matter, was by no means so in
space.
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