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” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. He must be gone to dispose of the body. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. ” “Don’t worry yourself.
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