"Miles"--said Lucy, as I was about to enter the house, she herself
standing on the edge of the piazza on the point of following the
party, but holding towards me the little paper box in which I had
placed her portion of the pearls.
"Do you wish me to put them away for you, Lucy?"
"No, Miles--not for _me_--but for _yourself_--for Grace--
for _Mrs. Miles Wallingford_, if you prefer that."
This was said without the slightest appearance of any other feeling
than a gentle request. I was surprised, and scarce knew what to make
of it; at first, I refused to take the box.
"I hope I have done nothing to merit this, Lucy?" I said,
half-affronted, half-grieved.
"Remember, Miles," the dear girl answered--"we are no longer children,
but have reached an age when it is incumbent on us to respect
appearances a little. These pearls must be worth a good deal of money,
and I feel certain my father, when he came to think of it, would
scarce approve of my receiving them."
"And this from _you_, dear Lucy!"
"This from me, dear Miles," returned the precious girl, tears
glistening in her eyes, though she endeavoured to smile. "Now, take
the box, and we will be just as good friends as ever."
"Will you answer me one question, as frankly and as honestly as you
used to answer all my questions?"
Lucy turned pale and she stood reflecting an instant before she spoke.
Pages:
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604