What did it matter? Lucy felt that everything would go on all the same, that to-day would be as yesterday, and life quite a simple, easy business, whatever they might say.
The important communication made to her by Mr. Trevor made a great impression upon the mind of Mrs. Stone, but it was an impression of a confusing kind, disturbing all her previous plans and thoughts. It had been her intention, ever since Lucy was placed in her care, to take a decided part in the shaping of the girl’s life. Her imagination had been roused by the situation altogether--a young creature, simple, pliable and unformed, with no relations who had any real right to guide her, and with a great fortune--what might not be made of such a charge! It was not with any covetous inclination to employ her pupil’s wealth to her own advantage that Mrs. Stone had determined by every means in her power to acquire an influence over Lucy. She was much too high-minded, too proud, for anything of the sort. No doubt there was an alloy, if not of selfishness, at least of self-regard, in her higher motive, but the worst she would have done would have been to carry out some pet projects of her own by Lucy’s help, not to enrich herself. She thought, perhaps, or rather, without thinking was aware, that her own importance would be increased by her influence over the heiress; but nothing in the shape of personal aggrandizement was present to her thoughts, even by inference. Mr. Trevor’s communication, however, disturbed her mind in the most uncomfortable way. When you are contemplating a vague influence of a general kind to be gradually and with trouble acquired, it is demoralizing to have a definite power suddenly thrust into your hands; and it is hardly possible to refrain from exercising that power were it but for the sake of the novelty and unexpected character of it, _en attendant_ the larger influence to be acquired hereafter. As Mrs. Stone sat in front of Mr. Trevor’s fire listening to him, with a ringing in her ears of sudden excitement, holding her cup of tea in her hand, with external calm, yet feeling every pulse flutter, there suddenly appeared before her bewildered eyes, not written on the wall like Belshazzar’s warning, but hanging in the air without any material support, like an illuminated scroll, in big luminous letters, the name which her sister had suggested; the name of Frank-- F R A N K--but bigger, a great deal bigger, than any capitals, dazzling her eyes with the glow in them. Her first feeling was alarm and a kind of horror. It was all she could do to restrain the outcry that rose to her lips. She started so that she spilled her tea, which was hot, so that she started still more; but upon this little accident she put the best face possible.