This reproach went to Lucy’s heart. She could not defend herself from such an accusation; it took her entirely without defense, without the power of saying anything for herself; and she had never had any quarrels in the old days. Thus the two girls parted, Katie running across the common with red eyes, in high dudgeon, though there was so little cause for it, while Lucy stood at the window looking after her piteously, and with an aching heart. Changed! yes, everything was changed, either within or without; but which poor Lucy could not tell. She scarcely knew how long she stood there, and she was so occupied with Katie and the pang of this parting with her that she did not see another visitor approaching from the town, though he was a very welcome visitor indeed. When she heard his voice coming up the stair her heart jumped with pleasure. He had not deserted her then, and gone away without seeing her. She turned round and opened the door of the drawing-room in the simplicity of her pleasure. “I am so glad to see you,” she said with fervor; and Sir Tom came in smiling, with every appearance of being glad to see her too. “I thought it best not to come too soon,” Sir Thomas said, “or your old lady did not like the looks of me, Miss Lucy. Perhaps, I thought, she might like me even worse than my looks; but this is luck to find you alone.” “Oh, but I am always alone,” said Lucy, her countenance falling. “This is not like Grosvenor Street, Sir Thomas; most of the time I see nobody at all; and when people come they say that I am changed.” “Somebody has been vexing you,” said Sir Thomas, with his sympathetic look. “Never you mind, no one who really knows you will think you changed; and I hope you are happy on the whole, among your old friends.” Lucy shook her head. “It is not that they are not kind,” she said; “they are all very kind--but they will not permit me to think that other people are kind too; every one bids me to beware of some one else. You laugh, but I could cry; and it makes me that I don’t know what to do.” “They bid you beware of me? Well, I suppose that was to be expected,” Sir Thomas said, with a laugh. “Oh, not only of you, but of each other; and Aunt Ford warns me against them all. Well, it is amusing, I suppose,” said Lucy, “but it does not amuse me,” and the tears came into her eyes. “My dear little girl (I am an uncle, you know), things will mend,” said Sir Tom. “Come, tell me what they say of me. Did they say I was an extravagant fool, and had wasted all my living like a prodigal? Alas! that is true, Lucy. It may be uncharitable to say it, but the ladies are quite right; and if it were not for that excellent plan of the uncle, perhaps, as they tell you, it would be better for you to have nothing to do with me.”