Lucy had no thought for anything but Arthur, and the subdued
expression of his face as, kneeling by the sick woman's bedside, he
said the prayers she had hungered for more than for the contents of
Anna's basket, now being purloined by the children crouched upon the
hearth and fighting over the last bit of gingerbread.
"Hush-sh, little one," and Lucy's white, jeweled hand rested on the
head of the principal belligerent, who, awed by the beauty of her face
and the authoritative tone of her voice, kept quiet till the prayer
was over and Arthur had risen from his knees.
"Thank you, Lucy; I think I must constitute you my deaconess when Miss
Ruthven is gone. Your very presence has a subduing effect upon the
little savages. I never knew them so quiet before for a long time,"
Arthur said to Lucy in a low tone, which, low as it was, reached
Anna's ear, but brought no pang of jealousy, or a sharp regret for
what she felt was lost forever.
She was giving Lucy to Arthur Leighton, resolving that by every means
in her power she would further her rival's cause, and the hot tears
which dropped so fast upon Mrs. Hobbs' pillow while Arthur said the
prayer was but the baptism of that vow, and not, as Lucy thought,
because she felt so sorry for the suffering woman to whom she had
brought so much comfort.
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