You don't dislike me, do you?"
"No, oh, no. I love you very dearly," Anna replied, her tears falling
like rain upon the slight form she hugged so passionately to her, and
which she would willingly have borne in her arms the remainder of
their way, as a kind of penance for her past misdeeds; but Lucy was
much better, she said, and so the two, between whom there was now a
bond of love which nothing could sever, went on together to the low,
dismal house where the Widow Hobbs lived.
The gate was off the hinges, and Lucy's muslin was torn upon a nail
as she passed through, while the long fringe of her fleecy shawl was
caught in the tall tufts of thistle growing by the path. In a muddy
pool of water a few rods from the house a flock of ducks were
swimming, pelted occasionally by the group of dirty, ragged children
playing on the grass, and who at sight of the strangers and the basket
Anna carried, sprang up like a flock of pigeons and came trooping
towards her. It was not the sweet, pastoral scene which Lucy had
pictured to herself, with Arthur for the background, and her ardor was
greatly dampened even before the threshold was crossed, and she stood
in the low, close room where the sick woman lay, her large eyes
unnaturally bright, and turned wistfully upon them as she entered.
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