She had “only to wire if she wanted him.”  Oh no; he was the last person that she wanted now.

Those two letters she answered without more delay.  To Horace she wrote in a reassuring manner, so as to absolve him from any sense of obligation he might happen to feel.  She would rather he came down a little later than he proposed.  Meanwhile he was not to be anxious, for Mr. Schofield was managing her affairs extremely well.  She admitted that when those wonderful affairs were settled her income would be but small (she considered that this was a thing Horace ought to be told before—­before he wrote any more letters).  She added that the library, the pictures and the furniture would have to be sold.  And Court House, too, she was afraid. (That also was a fact that must not be concealed from him for a moment.  It seemed to concern Horace so much more than it did her.) These things, which it was her duty to tell him, she told simply and plainly.  But she omitted to mention that two men in possession were sitting in the housekeeper’s room, in attitudes of more or less constraint.  She ended by assuring Horace of her gratitude, with a fervency which suggested that he had some cause to doubt it.  And indeed, at the moment, she could hardly tell whether she were more grateful to him for offering to come to her or for having stopped away.

All this necessary business Lucia transacted with one half of her mind; while the other stood far off, possessed by its sense of unreality, of illusion.

Next she went through the tradesmen’s bills.  There were a great many people to be paid, and unless Court House were sold there would be nothing to pay them with.  It was at this point that Robert came in with the announcement that Mr. Rickman had called and wished to see her.

At first (the active intelligence being busy with accounts), her only idea was that she owed Mr. Rickman fifteen pounds and that when all debts were paid fifteen pounds would represent a very solid portion of her income.  Then her dreaming self awoke to the memory of something unachieved, an obligation rashly incurred, a promise that could never be fulfilled.

Yes.  She would see Mr. Rickman.

CHAPTER XXX

Lucia had risen and was standing in the embrasure of the south window.  She had her back to the door, so that she could not see him as he came in.

He wondered how on earth he was going to get over the space between the window and the door.  A sudden wave of weakness went through his body; he had horrible sensations of sinking at the middle and of giving way altogether at the knees.  He had been afraid of seeing her suffer; now he knew that what he was really afraid of was her fear of seeing him.  He expected to see her face set in abhorrence of his sympathy, her body shrink in anticipation of a touch on her pain.

Lucia spared him all the embarrassments of that approach As if she had divined his feeling, she turned, she came forward to meet him, she held out her hand and smiled as she would have smiled if nothing had happened.