“It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. "I have nothing to forgive. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. There were no mourners. But then the features changed. "But if it is thy will to take me from him," she continued, as soon as her emotion permitted her,—"if he must be left an orphan amid strangers, implant, I beseech thee, a mother's feelings in some other bosom, and raise up a friend, who shall be to him what I would have been. "You two … both of you! But for you I couldn't have done it. Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed.
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