I fancied I saw a slight shiver of her frame. She had not heard it! but in a moment after Lucy stept out upon the terrace and took the paper and read. I thought her figure seemed taller and more distinct against the shadowy background of willows, as she stood there before me with the paper in her hand. There was something in it of firm pride and endurance which struck me as new--some greater emotion than I had ever known. “Did Charlie send you this, Adam?” she asked, as she gave it back to me. “Yes, Lucy,” said I humbly, feeling myself guilty of giving her great pain when I had expected to bring her pleasure; “it came last night.” There was a slight, almost imperceptible shiver again, and a wandering of the fingers towards each other, as though they would fain be clasped together in the instinctive gesture of grief. “Wait for me a moment, Adam,” said Lucy; “I have something to say to you.” I waited upon the terrace while she went in. What could this portend? I believed, and so did all the countryside, that their marriage was delayed only until Charlie had a prospect of success in his profession. He had told me so himself; it was an understood thing; yet Lucy had not been told of his first brief. She joined me almost immediately, having only gone in, as it appeared, to throw the light plaid she usually wore, over her shoulders and head, and I waited in anxious silence for her first words. We had reached the water-side, and paused there together, the long willow-boughs sweeping over us sadly, before she spoke,-- “Adam,” she said then, “have you had any conversation with my father lately? Has he ever spoken to you about--about his own affairs?” “No, Lucy,” said I. “Adam, I may speak to you,” said Lucy. “There is some new calamity hanging over us. I have seen my father receive letters of late--letters that I could perceive were from lawyers--which have brought to his face that white look of despair which you never saw. I mentioned Walter Johnstone’s name to him once--when you told us he had gone into partnership with some one in Edinburgh--because he was Hew’s companion, and--and yours--and my father broke out into a curse upon him, immediately adding, however,--‘Not him--why should I swear at a packman’s son? but my own miserable fortune, that am doomed to be tortured to death by these hired hounds of lawyers!’ I dared ask nothing then, but I have been ready to catch at every word since; and my father has vaguely intimated to me some intention that we should go to France--at least,” said Lucy, hastily, with an indignant blush burning on her face, and a painful heaving of her breast, “that he would go--and, of course, I will not leave him.” “But the cause, Lucy?” said I. “He can have no cause.” “Alas, Adam, I cannot tell!” said Lucy, sadly, “for he never has taken me into his confidence; but I think it must be some responsibility--some--Adam, I do not need to hesitate--you know well that we have always been poor.”