"
I spoke those words in as comforting a manner as I could. The truth is,
I hadn't the heart to irritate the girl by another of my smart replies.
I had only noticed her temper at first. I noticed her wretchedness
now--and wretchedness is not uncommonly insolent, you will find, in
humble life. My answer melted Limping Lucy. She bent her head down, and
laid it on the top of her crutch.
"I loved her," the girl said softly. "She had lived a miserable life,
Mr. Betteredge--vile people had ill-treated her and led her wrong--and
it hadn't spoiled her sweet temper. She was an angel. She might have
been happy with me. I had a plan for our going to London together like
sisters, and living by our needles. That man came here, and spoilt it
all. He bewitched her. Don't tell me he didn't mean it, and didn't know
it. He ought to have known it. He ought to have taken pity on her.
'I can't live without him--and, oh, Lucy, he never even looks at me.'
That's what she said. Cruel, cruel, cruel. I said, 'No man is worth
fretting for in that way.' And she said, 'There are men worth dying
for, Lucy, and he is one of them.' I had saved up a little money.
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