was so remarkable—in explaining to that young lady how very wicked it was on her part to think of forcing herself into such a family as that of the Luftons. She would explain to Lucy that no happiness could come of it; that people placed by misfortune above their sphere are always miserable; and, in short, make use of all those excellent moral lessons which are so customary on such occasions. The morality might, perhaps, be thrown away; but Lady Lufton depended much on her dignified sternness. And then, having so resolved, she prepared for her journey home.
Very little had been said at Framley Parsonage about Lord Lufton's offer after the departure of that gentleman—very little, at least, in Lucy's presence. That the parson and his wife should talk about it between themselves was a matter of course; but very few words were spoken on the matter either by or to Lucy. She was left to her own thoughts, and possibly to her own hopes.
And then other matters came up at Framley which turned the current of interest into other tracks. In the first place, there was the visit made by Mr. Sowerby to the Dragon of Wantley, and the consequent revelation made by Mark Robarts to his wife. And while that latter subject was yet new, before Fanny and Lucy had as yet made up their minds as to all the little economies which might be practiced in the household without serious detriment to the master's comfort, news reached them that Mrs. Crawley of Hogglestock had been stricken with fever. Nothing of the kind could well be more dreadful than this. To those who knew the family, it seemed impossible that their most ordinary wants could be supplied if that courageous head were even for a day laid low; and then the poverty of poor Mr. Crawley was such that the sad necessities of a sick-bed could hardly be supplied without assistance.
"I will go over at once," said Fanny.
"My dear!" said her husband. "It is typhus, and you must first think of the children. I will go."
"What on earth could you do, Mark?" said his wife. "Men on such occasions are almost worse than useless; and then they are so much more liable to infection."
"I have no children, nor am I a man," said Lucy, smiling, "for both of which exemptions I am thankful. I will go, and when I come back I will keep clear of the bairns."
