Then he had come to her, making
matters almost worse by talking to her, bringing the tears into
her eyes by his good-nature, but still wounding her by the feeling
that she could not speak to him at her ease. But things were at a
different pass with her now. He had chosen her--her out of all the
world, and brought her there to share with him his own home, his own
honours, and all that he had to give. She was the apple of his eye,
and the pride of his heart. And the stern mother, of whom she had
stood so much in awe, who at first had passed her by as a thing
not to be noticed, and had then sent out to her that she might be
warned to keep herself aloof, now hardly knew in what way she might
sufficiently show her love, regard, and solicitude.
I must not say that Lucy was not proud in these moments--that her
heart was not elated at these thoughts. Success does beget pride, as
failure begets shame. But her pride was of that sort which is in no
way disgraceful to either man or woman, and was accompanied by pure
true love, and a full resolution to do her duty in that state of life
to which it had pleased her God to call her. She did rejoice greatly
to think that she had been chosen, and not Griselda. Was it possible
that having loved she should not so rejoice, or that, rejoicing, she
should not be proud of her love? They spent the whole winter abroad,
leaving the dowager Lady Lufton to her plans and preparations for
their reception at Framley Court; and in the following spring they
appeared in London, and there set up their staff.
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