"God bless you wherever you go," she said, "and if there is any great
good which you desire, may He bring it to pass."
"He never will--no, never," was the sad response in Anna's heart, as
she joined the clergyman and Lucy outside the door, the former
pointing to the ruined slippers and asking how she ever expected to
walk home in such dilapidated things.
"I shall certainly have to carry you," he said, "or your blistered
feet will ever more be thrust forward as a reason why you cannot be my
deaconess."
He seemed to be in unusual spirits that afternoon, and the party went
gaily on, Anna keeping a watchful care over Lucy, picking out the
smoothest places and passing her arm around her slender waist as they
were going up a hill.
"I think it would be better if you both leaned on me," the rector
said, offering each an arm, and apologizing for not having thought to
do so before.
"I do not need it, thank you, but Miss Harcourt does. I fear she is
very tired," said Anna, pointing to Lucy's face, which was so white
and ghastly; so like the face seen once before in Venice, that,
without another word, Arthur took the tired girl in his strong arms
and carried her safely to the summit of the hill.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66