“Nobody wishes to insult you, Lucy.  And I propose, madam, we give her a day to consider.”

“Thank you, uncle.”

“With all my heart; only, until she decides, she must excuse me if I do not treat her with the same affection as I used, and as I hope to do again.  I am deeply wounded, and I am one that cannot feign.”

“You need not fear me, aunt; my heart is turned to ice.  I shall never intrude that love on which you set no value.  May I retire?”

Mrs. Bazalgette looked to Mr. Fountain, and both bowed acquiescence.  Lucy went out pale, but dry-eyed; despair never looked so lovely, or carried its head more proudly.

“I don’t like it,” said Mr. Fountain.  “I am afraid we have driven the poor girl too hard.”

“What are you afraid of, pray?”

“She looked to me just like a woman who would go and take an ounce of laudanum.  Poor Lucy! she has been a good niece to me, after all;” and the water stood in the old bachelor’s eyes.

Mrs. Bazalgette tapped him on the shoulder and said archly, but with a tone that carried conviction, “She will take no poison.  She will hate us for an hour; then she will have a good cry:  to-morrow she will come to our terms; and this day next year she will be very much obliged to us for doing what all women like, forcing her to her good with a little harshness.”

CHAPTER XXV.

SAID Lucy as she went from the door, “Thank Heaven, they have insulted me!”

This does not sound logical, but that is only because the logic is so subtle and swift.  She meant something of this kind:  “I am of a yielding nature; I might have sacrificed myself to retain their affection; but they have roused a vice of mine, my pride, against them, so now I shall be immovable in right, thanks to my wicked pride.  Thank Heaven, they have insulted me!” She then laid her head upon her bed and moaned, for she was stricken to the heart.  Then she rose and wrote a hasty note, and, putting it in her bosom, came downstairs and looked for Captain Kenealy.  He proved to be in the billiard-room, playing the spotted ball against the plain one.  “Oh, Captain Kenealy, I am come to try your friendship; you said I might command you.”

“Yaas!”

“Then will you mount my pony, and ride with this to Mrs. Wilson, to that farm where I kept you waiting so long, and you were not angry as anyone else would have been?”

“Yaas!”

“But not a soul must see it, or know where you are gone.”

“All raight, Miss Fountain.  Don’t you be fraightened; I’m close as the grave, and I’ll be there in less than haelf an hour.”

“Yes; but don’t hurt my dear pony either; don’t beat him; and, above all, don’t come back without an answer.”

“I’ll bring you an answer in an hour and twenty minutes.”  The captain looked at his watch, and went out with a smartness that contrasted happily with his slowness of speech.