Page:Magdalen by J S Machar.pdf/66

 wet!—To be sure, there was a downpour last night, but why could not my Jiří have found a carriage somewhere? Well, well, done is done,—I will pick you out something of my own, just for to-day; to-morrow the tailor will bring you new raiment. Perhaps my clothes will fit you. I once was of your height, but that was very long ago, to-day I am but a dried-up old woman I will be back in fifteen minutes.”

She went away. Lucy was all that time as if on burning coals before that pure, dim eye. She drew her coverlet up to her chin.

Then she drew a deep breath, jumped out of bed like a doe, and slipped with lightning speed into her stockings and shoes. She threw on a morning gown of a flowery pattern, which the thoughtful old lady had left with her the night before, washed herself, arranged her hair a little, and looked curiously around the room.

The living room of a nascent old bachelor. The care of a woman’s hand lay over it, but