You will be made a tool of, and a slave of, and use of. I speak
from experience. You know how I sacrifice myself to those I love;
luckily, they are not many."
"Not so many as love you, dear."
"Heaven forbid! but you are at the head of them all, and I am going to
prove it--by deeds, not words."
Lucy looked up at this additional feature in her aunt's affection.
"You must go to the great bear's den for three months, but it shall be
the last time!" Lucy said nothing.
"You will return never to quit us, or, at all events, not the
neighborhood."
"That--would be nice," said the courtier warmly, but hesitatingly;
"but how will you gain uncle's consent?"
"By dispensing with it."
"Yes; but the means, aunt?"
"A husband!"
Lucy started and colored all over, and looked askant at her aunt with
opening eyes, like a thoroughbred filly just going to start all across
the road. Mrs. Bazalgette laid a loving hand on her shoulder, and
whispered knowingly in her ear: "Trust to me; I'll have one ready for
you against you come back this time."
"No, please don't! pray don't!" cried Lucy, clasping her hands in
feeble-minded distress.
"In this neighborhood--one of the right sort."
"I am so happy as I am."
"You will be happier when you are quite a slave, and so I shall save
you from being snapped up by some country wiseacre, and marry you into
our own set."
"Merchant princes," suggested Lucy, demurely, having just recovered
her breath and what little sauce there was in her.
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