Lucy wrought and hoped on for another year.  Still nothing was heard from Luke.  A new calamity had fallen upon Lucy.  Her father, a broken and decayed man, had come to live near her, and was now nearly dependent on her for support.  Both Modbury and Farmer Larkin gave him little jobs to do, for which they liberally recompensed him.  The quantity of lace Lucy was employed to make was so small, that it just sufficed to keep her and her father; while her little capital, instead of increasing, was gradually absorbed by the purchase of materials for the stock her industry accumulated.  Susan Larkin frequently visited her, and Modbury was seldom absent.

No ill-fortune seemed to depress the persevering girl.  Even though she was working almost night and day, she still kept up her spirits.  Indeed, at every new misfortune, a fresh accession of firmness and resolution seemed to nerve her.  About this time her father died, invoking blessings on her for having been so good a daughter.  After the first shock of grief had passed, she continued her task amidst the most hopeless circumstances.  The lace-trade sunk lower and lower; still Lucy wrought on, under a strong presentiment that it would improve.  She did not relax one hour’s labour, although she was now receiving much less for it than when she began.  She accumulated so large a stock, that at last every shilling of her savings was spent for materials.  In exchange, however, she possessed a large quantity of beautiful lace, that, even if it sold at the present low prices, would have yielded a small profit.  At last things became so bad, that a sale seemed unavoidable, disadvantageous as it might be.  Lucy, now an object of commiseration amongst the neighbours, still retained her cheerfulness.  That so much patience, modesty, and firmness of purpose should not meet its reward, seemed almost impossible; and fortune smiled on Lucy when nearly every hope seemed to have left her.

It is well known by what trifles in the mercantile world fortunes are lost and won.  The detention of a ship, the non-arrival of a mail, has ruined hundreds; whilst some equally unforeseen caprice of fashion or similar accident has made as many fortunes.  It happened, when Lucy had the greatest cause for despondency, that within a short period two members of the royal family died.  Mourning lace was then much in request, and it happened that most of Lucy’s stock was of that kind.  Suddenly, commissions from Honiton flowed in, and Lucy was kept constantly at work, at wages much higher than before—­her own stock acquiring fresh value while the price continued to rise.  Young Larkin, who was a shrewd fellow, advised her to ‘hold’ it till the value increased still more.  She took the advice, and at the proper moment sold it at a price she never hoped to realise.  At the end of a week she found herself in possession of a sum which was, within a few pounds, sufficient to procure her lover’s discharge from the army!