"Perhaps Robbins picked it up and laid it upon the table," said Cousin Deborah. "He might have done so, and then forgotten all about it, for he grows more and more forgetful all the time. But now, my love, go and write the good news to Aunt Bernard, while I look after poor Anne." [Illustration: _Lady Lucy's Secret._ Great news from the wars.] Lucy's own part of the letter was as follows:— "DEAR AUNT BERNARD:—This came in a letter from my father last Tuesday, and Cousin Deborah bade me write it out for you. We have got news this day that there has been a great battle, and the English have beat, and my papa is well, only he has got a cut on his face, but poor Jack Martin, Anne's bachelor, is killed. Dear Aunt Bernard, I know I was a naughty girl a great many times, and I hope you will forgive me, as I do you. I hope you will excuse blots, for I cannot help crying when I think about poor Jack Martin and his mother." "That will do very well!" said Cousin Deborah, when Lucy showed her the letter. "No, you need not copy it. Send it as it is." So Lucy sent her little letter to Aunt Bernard; but I am sorry to say she never received any answer. When any one has gone on for many years like this poor, unhappy lady, indulging the passions of anger, pride, and an unforgiving temper, the heart sometimes becomes so hardened that it seems impossible to make any impression upon it. Possibly Mrs. Bernard may have been sorry in her own heart that she had been so cruel to Lucy, but she never said so. When Anne had a little recovered from her grief at the loss of her sweetheart, Cousin Deborah talked with her seriously about the fault she had committed in helping Lucy to deceive, and in going with her to meet the gipsy-woman. Anne acknowledged her error and promised to do better. And Cousin Deborah took care to avoid all risk, by keeping Lucy with herself till the child had framed the habit of being truthful and open. This was not gained in a day, for bad habits are hard to overcome. But Lucy was very much in earnest, and under Cousin Deborah's gentle and wise government, she had few temptations to hide her faults and mishaps. By degrees, she lost the frightened, crushed manner which had grown upon her under Aunt Bernard's reign. She grew strong and active in mind and body, and at the end of a year could work in the garden, walk, ride, and run races as well as Polly Burgess herself. Hannah, who now and then saw her playing with the little girls at the rectory, or going about to see the poor people, reported to her mistress that the child had grown a regular tomboy.