And Lucy had so much of this benevolence in her nature that I am inclined to think her small egoisms were impregnated with it, just as there are people not altogether unknown to you, whose small benevolences have a predominant and somewhat rank odour of egoism.Even now, that she is walking up and down with a little triumphant flutter of her girlish heart at the sense that she is loved by the person of chief consequence in her small world, you may see in her hazel eyes an ever present sunny benignity in which the momentary harmless flashes of personal vanity are quite lost, and if she is happy in thinking of her lover it is because the thought of him mingles readily with all the gentle affections and goodnatured offices with which she fills her peaceful days.Even now, her mind, with that instantaneous alternation which makes two currents of feeling or imagination seem simultaneous, is glancing continually from Stephen to the preparations she has only half finished in Maggie's room.Cousin Maggie shall be treated as well as the grandest lady visitor - nay, better, for she shall have Lucy's best prints and drawings in her bedroom, and the very finest bouquet of spring flowers on her table.Maggie would enjoy all that - she was so fond of pretty things!
And there was poor aunt Tulliver, that no one made any account of - she was to be surprised with the present of a cap of superlative quality, and to have her health drunk in a gratifying manner, for which Lucy was going to lay a plot with her father this evening.Clearly, she had not time to indulge in long reveries about her own happy love-affairs! With this thought she walked towards the door, but paused there.
`What's the matter, then, Minny?' she said, stooping in answer to some whimpering of that small quadruped, and lifting his glossy head against her pink cheek.`Did you think I was going without you? Come, then, let us go and see Sindbad.'
Sindbad was Lucy's chestnut horse, that she always fed with her own hand when he was turned out in the paddock.She was fond of feeding dependent creatures, and knew the private tastes of all the animals about the house, delighting in the little rippling sounds of her canaries when their beaks were busy with fresh seed, and in the small nibbling pleasures of certain animals which, lest she should appear too trivial, I will here call the more familiar rodents.
Was not Stephen Guest right in his decided opinion that this slim maiden of eighteen was quite the sort of wife a man would not be likely to repent of marrying? - a woman who was loving and thoughtful for other women, not giving them Judas-kisses with eyes askance on their welcome defects, but with real care and vision for their half-hidden pains and mortifications, with long ruminating enjoyment of little pleasures prepared for them? Perhaps the emphasis of his admiration did not fall precisely on this rarest quality in her - perhaps he approved his own choice of her chiefly because she did not strike him as a remarkable rarity.A man likes his wife to be pretty:
well, Lucy was pretty, but not to a maddening extent.A man likes his wife to be accomplished, gentle, affectionate and not stupid; and Lucy had all these qualifications.Stephen was not surprised to find himself in love with her, and was conscious of excellent judgment in preferring her to Miss Leyburn, the daughter of the county member, although Lucy was only the daughter of his father's subordinate partner; besides, he had had to defy and overcome a slight unwillingness and disappointment in his father and sisters - a circumstance which gives a young man an agreeable consciousness of his own dignity.Stephen was aware that he had sense and independence enough to choose the wife who was likely to make him happy, unbiassed by any indirect considerations.He meant to choose Lucy: she was a little darling, and exactly the sort of woman he had always most admired.