"Lucy, my dear, I leave you in a day or two."
"So soon, uncle."
"And it depends on you whether I am to go away a happy or a
disappointed old man."
At these words, to which she was too cautious to reply in words, Lucy
wore a puzzled air; but underneath it a keen observer might have
noticed her cheek pale a little, a very little, and a quiver of
suppressed agitation pass over her like a current of air in summer
over a smooth lake.
Receiving no answer, Mr. Fountain went on to remind her that he was
her only kinsman, Mrs. Bazalgette being her relation by half-blood
only; and told her that, looking on himself as her father, he had
always been anxious to see her position in life secured before his own
death.
"I have been ambitious for you, my dear," said he, "but not more so
than your beauty and accomplishments, and your family name entitle us
to be. Well, my ambition for you and my affection for you are both
about to be gratified; at least, it now rests with you to gratify
them. Will you be Mrs. Talboys?"
Lucy looked down, and said demurely, "What a question for a third
person to put!"
"Should I put it if I had not a right?"
"I don't know."'
"You ought to know, Lucy."
"Mr. Talboys has authorized you, dear?"
"He has."'
"Then this is a formal proposal from Mr. Talboy's?"
"Of course it is," said the old gentleman, fearlessly, for Lucy's
manner of putting these questions was colorless; nobody would have
guessed what she was at.
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