ribbons, needles, and thread,—each in its proper place, as if by habit.
The old lady was not disturbed by all this, but continued speaking, holding her hands all the time upon her breast, while her eyes shone with the fire of joyful recollections.
The blood beat strongly in Lucy’s temples. She had not yet spoken a word; she was waiting with trembling for some question, though she did not know what it was to be. She was waiting, like a captured animal, for some sudden injury; but the old lady kept on talking, never asking a question, and resting her eyes from time to time upon her with unspeakable kindness. Something was choking Lucy, and she would fain have put all her strength in one painful cry,—suddenly, some strange torrent carried her off her feet, sent her head a-whirling,—she sobbed out loud, tears burst forth in her eyes, and with a subdued cry she fell to the feet of the old lady.
