She looked at it; she touched the soft cheek with her cold and trembling lips; she seemed by her own will to press the sting through and through her heart; and as she did so, she saw and accepted her part in life--to have henceforth no individual existence, but to fill her solitary days with thoughts of charity, and to draw from the recollection of her own anguish the means of consolation for the griefs of others.
Lucia turned away.

She guessed something, though but little, of her friend's thoughts, and moved towards the bed, to be ready to speak to Mrs.Clarkson.The little girl, released by her mother's waking, slipped down, and joined her brother, and Lucia, seeing herself perceived, went round to the place she had occupied.
"I do not know whether you know me, Mrs.Clarkson," she said.

"I am Lucia Costello.

Doctor Hardy told my mother of your illness, and she sent me to see whether we cannot be of some use to you or the little ones." Lucia had puzzled beforehand over what she should say, but finally her little speech was just what happened to come into her head at the moment.

However, it made small difference, since the speech and the manner were both kind, and kindness was the first thing needed.
Mrs.Clarkson looked at her with a mixed expression of gratitude and eagerness.
"It's not for me, miss," she said earnestly, "but for the poor little ones.