Indeed, at every new misfortune, a fresh accession of firmness and
resolution seemed to nerve her. About this time her father died,
invoking blessings on her for having been so good a daughter. After
the first shock of grief had passed, she continued her task amidst
the most hopeless circumstances. The lace-trade sunk lower and
lower; still Lucy wrought on, under a strong presentiment that it
would improve. She did not relax one hour's labour, although she was
now receiving much less for it than when she began. She accumulated
so large a stock, that at last every shilling of her savings was
spent for materials. In exchange, however, she possessed a large
quantity of beautiful lace, that, even if it sold at the present low
prices, would have yielded a small profit. At last things became so
bad, that a sale seemed unavoidable, disadvantageous as it might be.
Lucy, now an object of commiseration amongst the neighbours, still
retained her cheerfulness. That so much patience, modesty, and
firmness of purpose should not meet its reward, seemed almost
impossible; and fortune smiled on Lucy when nearly every hope seemed
to have left her.
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