“Not at all the moment,” said Lady Randolph, rising up and shaking out her flowing skirts. “These gentlemen must all be aware that Miss Trevor, in the meantime, is my first thought. Our presence is no longer necessary, I believe, my dear,” the great lady said, offering her arm to Lucy, who was thankful to be released. All the men stood up, the rector still red, and Mr. Williamson still smoothing his hat. The departure of the ladies had the air of a procession. Lucy was very timid and very sick at heart, longing to escape, to rest, to cry, and then to prepare herself quietly for whatever change might be coming; but she had no need of Lady Randolph’s arm. Even when the heart is breaking, a mourner may be quite able to walk; and Lucy was not heart-broken, only longing to cry a little, and give vent to her natural gentle sorrow for her poor old father. But Lady Randolph drew the girl’s hand within her arm, and held it there with her other hand, and whispered, “Lean upon me, my poor child.” Lucy did not lean, feeling no need of support, but otherwise obeyed. Philip Rainy opened the door for the darkly clothed procession. He too thought it right to assert himself. “I should like to see you, Lucy,” he said, “afterward,” taking no notice of the great lady, “about Jock.” The name, the suggestion, gave Lucy a shock of awakening. She stopped short, to Lady Randolph’s surprise and alarm, and turned round suddenly, withdrawing her hand from the soft constraint of that pressure upon it. They all paused, looking at her, almost in as great surprise as if something inanimate had detached itself from the wall and taken an independent step. “Please, Mr. Rushton,” Lucy said timidly, but clearly, “there is one thing I want to say. I will do everything--everything that papa wishes; but about Jock--” “About Jock?” they all came a little nearer, looking at her. Mrs. Stone put forth a hand to pat the girl’s shoulder soothingly, murmuring, “Yes, dear--yes, my love, another time,” with amiable moderation. But Lady Randolph would not permit any interference. She took her charge’s hand again. “My dear,” she said, “all these arrangements can be settled afterward by your friends.” Lady Randolph had no idea what was meant by Jock. “But I must settle this first,” Lucy said. She was very pale, and very slight and girlish, looking like a shadow in her black clothes; but there was no mistaking her quiet determination. She stood quite still, making no fuss, with her eyes fixed upon the two lawyers. “I will do every thing,” she repeated, “only not about Jock.” “That is what I am here for, Lucy,” said Philip Rainy. “I am your nearest relative. It is I who ought to have the care of Jock.”