You have
shown me that. Go on with your walk, Lucy. I shall go in."
"May I not come with you?"
"No; my head aches with all this; if I don't mind I shall eat no
dinner. Agitation and vexation, don't agree with me. I have carefully
avoided them all my life. I must go in and lie down for an hour"; and
he left her rather abruptly.
She looked after him; her subtle eye noticed directly that he walked a
little more feebly than usual. She ascribed this to his
disappointment, justly perhaps, for at his age the body has less
elastic force to resist a mental blow. The sight of him creeping away
disappointed, and leaning heavier than usual on his stick, knocked at
her cool but affectionate heart. She began to cry bitterly. When he
was quite out of sight, she turned and paced the gravel slowly and
sadly. It was new to her to refuse her uncle anything, still more
strange to have to refuse him a serious wish. She was prepared,
thoroughly prepared, for the proposal, but not to find the old man's
heart so deeply set upon it. A wild impulse came over her to call him
back and sacrifice herself; but the high spirit and intelligence that
lay beneath her tenderness and complaisance stood firm. Yet she felt
almost guilty, and very, very unhappy, as we call it at her age. She
kept sighing; "Poor uncle!" and paced the gravel very slowly, hanging
her sweet head, and crying as she went.
At the end of the walk David Dodd stood suddenly before her. He came
flurried on his own account, but stopped thunder-struck at her tears.
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