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deck； accepting any inconvenience rather than descend into the atmosphere
of the cabin。 As I looked out to sea on one side and on the other； the
dark waste of tossing waters seemed to be the fit and dreary type of the
dark prospect that was before me。 On the trackless path that we were
ploughing； a faint misty moonlight shed its doubtful ray。 Like the
doubtful light of hope； faintly flickering on my mind when I thought of
the coming time！
CHAPTER THE FORTY…SECOND
The Story of Lucilla： told by Herself
IN my description of what Lucilla said and did； on the occasion when the
surgeon was teaching her to use her sight； it will be remembered that she
is represented as having been particularly anxious to be allowed to try
how she could write。
The motive at the bottom of this was the motive which is always at the
bottom of a woman's conduct when she loves。 Her one ambition is to
present herself to advantage； even in the most trifling matters； before
the man on whom her heart is fixed。 Lucilla's one ambition with Oscar；
was this and no more。
Conscious that her handwritingthus far； painfully and incompletely
guided by her sense of touchmust present itself in sadly unfavorable
contrast to the handwriting of other women who could see； she persisted
in petitioning Grosse to permit her to learn to 〃write with her eyes
instead of her finger；〃 until she fairly wearied out the worthy German's
power of resistance。 The rapid improvement in her sight； after her
removal to the sea…side； justified him （as I was afterwards informed） in
letting her have her way。 Little by little； using her eyes for a longer
and longer time on each succeeding day； she mastered the serious
difficulty of teaching herself to write by sight instead of by touch。
Beginning with lines in copybooks； she got on to writing easy words to
dictation。 From that again； she advanced to writing notes； and from
writing notes to keeping a journalthis last； at the suggestion of her
aunt； who had lived in the days before penny postage； when people kept
journals； and wrote long lettersin short； when people had time to think
of themselves； and； more wonderful still； to write about it too。
Lucilla's Journal at Ramsgate lies before me as I trace these lines。
I had planned at first to make use of it； so as to continue the course of
my narrative without a check； still writing in my own personas I have
written thus far； and as I propose to write again； at the time when I
reappear on the scene。
But on thinking over it once more； and after reading the Journal again；
it strikes me as the wiser proceeding to let Lucilla tell the story of
her life at Ramsgate； herself： adding notes of my own occasionally； where
they appear to be required。 Variety； freshness； and realityI believe I
shall secure them all three by following this plan。 Why is History in
general （I know there are brilliant exceptions to the rule） such dull
reading？ Because it is the narrative of events； written at second hand。
Now I will be anything else you please； except dull。 You may say I have
been dull already？ As I am an honest woman； I don't agree with you。 There
are some people who bring dull minds to their readingand then blame the
writer for it。 I say no more。
Consider it as arranged； then。 During my absence on the Continent；
Lucilla shall tell the story of events at Ramsgate。 （And I will sprinkle
a few notes over it； here and there； signed P。）
Lucilla's Journal
_East Cliff Ramsgate； August_ 28th。A fortnight to…day since my aunt and
I arrived at this place。 I sent Zillah back to the rectory from London。
Her rheumatic infirmities trouble her tenfold； poor old soul； in the
moist air of the seaside。
How has my writing got on for the last week？ I am becoming a little
better satisfied with it。 I use my pen more easily； my hand is less like
the hand of a backward child than it was。 I shall be able to write as
well as other ladies do when I am Oscar's wife。
＇Note。She is easily satisfied； poor dear。 Her improved handwriting is
sadly crooked。 Some of the letters embrace each other at close quarters
like dear friends； and some start asunder like bitter enemies。 This is
not to reflect on Lucillabut to excuse myself； if I make any mistakes
in transcribing the Journal。 Now let her go on。P。＇
Oscar's wife！ when shall I be Oscar's wife？ I have not so much as seen
him yet。 SomethingI am afraid a difficulty with his brotherstill
keeps him on the Continent。 The tone in which he writes continues to have
a certain reserve in it which disquiets and puzzles me。 Am I quite as
happy as I expected to be when I recovered my sight？ Not yet！
It is not Oscar's fault； if I am out of spirits every now and then。 It is
my own fault。 I have offended my father； and I sometimes fear I have not
acted justly towards Madame Pratolungo。 These things vex me。
It seems to be my fate to be always misunderstood。 My sudden flight from
the rectory meant no disrespect to my father。 I left as I did； because I
was quite incapable of facing the woman whom I had once dearly
lovedthinking of her as I think now。 It is so unendurable to feel that
your confidence is lost in a person whom you once trusted without limit；
and to go on meeting that person every hour in the day with a smooth
face； as if nothing had happened！ The impulse to escape more meetings
（when I discovered that she had left the house for a walk） was
irresistible。 I should do it again； if I was in the same position again。
I have hinted at this in writing to my father； telling him that something
unpleasant had happened between Madame Pratolungo and me； and that I went
away so suddenly； on that account alone。 No use！ He has not answered my
letter。 I have written since to my step…mother。 Mrs。 Finch's reply has
informed me of the unjust manner in which he speaks of my aunt。 Without
the slightest reason for it； he is even more deeply offended with Miss
Batchford than he is with me！
Sad as this estrangement is； there is one consolationso far as I am
concerned； it will not last。 My father and I are sure； sooner or later；
to come to an understanding together。 When I return to the rectory； I
shall make my peace with him； and we shall get on again as smoothly as
ever。
But how will it end between Madame Pratolungo and me？
She has not answered the letter I wrote to her。 （I begin to wish I had
never written it； or at least some of itthe latter part I mean。） I have
heard absolutely nothing of her since she has been abroad。 I don't know
when she will returnor if she will ever return； to live at Dimchurch
again。 Oh； what would I not give to have this dreadful mystery cleared
up！ to know whether I ought to fall down on my knees before her and beg
her pardon？ or whether I ought to count among the saddest days of my life
the day which brought that woman to live with me as companion and friend？
Have I acted rashly？ or have I acted wisely？
There is the question which always comes to me and torments me； when I
wake in the night。 Let me look again （for the fiftieth time at least） at
Oscar's letter。
＇Note。I copy the letter。 Other eyes than hers ought to see it in this
place。 It is Nugent； of course； who here writes in Oscar's character and
in Oscar's name。 You will observe that his good resolutions； when he left
me； held out as far as Parisand then gave way as follows。P。＇
〃MY OWN DEAREST；I have reached Paris； and have found my first
opportunity of writing to you since I left Browndown。 Madame Pratolungo
has no doubt told you that a sudden necessity has called me to my
brother。 I have not yet reached the place at which I am to meet him。
Before I meet him； let me tell you what the necessity which has parted us
really is。 Madame Pratolungo no longer possesses my confidence。 When you
have read on a little farther； she will no longer possess yours。
〃Alas； my love； I must amaze you； shock you； grieve youI who would lay
down my life for your happiness！ Let me write it in the fewest words。 I
have made a terrible discovery。 Lucilla！ you have trusted Madame
Pratolungo as your friend。 Trust her no longer。 She is your enemy； and
mine。
〃I suspected her some time since。 My worst suspicions have been
confirmed。
〃Long ere this； I ought to have told you； what I tell you now。 But I
shrink from distressing you。 To see a sad look on your dear face breaks
my heart。 It is only when I am away from youwhen I fear the
consequences if you are not warned of your dangerthat I can summon the
courage to tear off the mask from that woman's false face； and show her
to you as she really is。 It is impossible for me to enter into details in
the space of a letter； I reserve all particulars until we meet again； and
until I can produce； what you have a right to ask forproof that I am
speaking the truth。
〃In the meanwhile； I beg you to look back into your own thoughts； to
recall your own words； on the day when Madame Pratolungo offended you in
the rectory garden。 On that occasion； the truth escaped the Frenchwoman's
lipsand she knew it！
〃Do you remember what you said； after she had followed you to Browndown？
I mean； after she had declared that you would have fallen in love wit