"
Her voice had in it the grieved tones of a little child, and her eyes
were very bright, with the tears, quivering on her long silken lashes.
Leaning back in his chair, with his hands clasped behind his head, a
position he always assumed when puzzled and perplexed, the rector
looked at her a moment before he spoke. He could not define to himself
the nature of the interest he took in Lucy Harcourt. He admired her
greatly, and the self-denials and generous exertions she had made to
be of use to him since Anna went away had touched a tender chord and
made her seem very near to him.
Habit with him was everything, and the past two weeks' isolation had
shown him how necessary she had become to him. She did not satisfy his
higher wants as Anna Ruthven had done. No one could ever do that, but
she amused, and soothed, and rested him, and made his duties lighter
by taking half of them upon herself. That she was more attached to him
than he could wish, he greatly feared, for, since Captain Humphreys'
visit, he had seen matters differently from what he saw them before,
and had unsparingly questioned himself as to how far he would be
answerable for her future weal or woe.
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