The lie which Lucy had told frightened her.

She knew why she had told it, and she knew, too, what harm would come to her bairn if that kind of gossip got abroad in the village.

She was no longer the gentle, loving nurse with the soft caressing hand, but a woman of purpose.

The sudden terror aroused in her heart had the effect of tightening her grip and bracing her shoulders as if the better to withstand some expected shock.
She forgot Meg; forgot her errand to the post-office; forgot everything, in fact, except the safety of the child she loved.

That Lucy had neglected and even avoided her of late, keeping out of her way even when she was in the house, and that she had received only cool indifference in place of loyal love, had greatly grieved her, but it had not lessened the idolatry with which she worshipped her bairn.
Hours at a time she had spent puzzling her brain trying to account for the change which had come over the girl during two short years of school.