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diff --git a/18002-h/18002-h.htm b/18002-h/18002-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eea2af1 --- /dev/null +++ b/18002-h/18002-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6480 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Canadian Heroine, by The Author of "Leaves + from the Backwoods" + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, Volume 1, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Canadian Heroine, Volume 1 + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill + +Release Date: March 16, 2006 [EBook #18002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 1 *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet B and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + + +<h1>A CANADIAN HEROINE.</h1> + +<h2>A Novel.</h2> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS."</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Poem, Inferno. Canto II."> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando,</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">E disse: Or ha bisogno il tuo fedele</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;">Di te, e io a te lo raccomando."—<i>Inferno. Canto II.</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="1"> </td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Poem, J. Bedard."> +<tr><td align='left'>"Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes;</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>En Canada qu'on vit content!</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Salut ô sublimes montagnes,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bords du superbe St. Laurent!</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Habitant de cette contrée</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Que nature veut embellir,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Tu peux marcher tête levée,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Ton pays doit t'enorgueillir."—<i>J. Bedard.</i></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<h3>IN THREE VOLUMES.</h3> +<h3>VOL. I.</h3> + + +<p class='center'>LONDON:<br /> +TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND.<br /> +1873.</p> + +<p class='center'>[<i>All rights Reserved.</i>]</p> + +<p class='center'>PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,<br /> +LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<h2>A CANADIAN HEROINE.</h2> +<p><br /><br /></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<p>It was near sunset, and the season was early summer. Every tree was in +full leaf, but the foliage had still the exquisite freshness of its +first tints, undimmed by dust or scorching heat. The grass was, for the +present, as green as English grass, but the sky overhead was more +glorious than any that ever bent above an English landscape. So far away +it rose overhead, where colour faded into infinite space, that the eye +seemed to look up and up, towards the Gate of Heaven, and only through +mortal weakness to fail in reaching it. Low down around the horizon +there was no blue, but pure, pale green depths, where clouds floated, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>magnificent in deep rosy and golden splendour. Under such skies the +roughest landscape, the wildest forest, softens into beauty; such light +and colour, like fairy robes, glorify the most commonplace; but here, +earth lent her own charms to be decked by heaven.</p> + +<p>Through a quiet landscape went the river—the grand silent flood which +by-and-by, many miles further on its course, would make Niagara. Here it +flowed calmly, reflecting the sunset, a giant with its energies untaxed +and its passions unroused—a kindly St. Christopher, yet capable of +being transformed into a destroying Thor. Far away, seen over a low +projecting point of land, white sails gleamed now and then, as ships +moved upon the lake from whence the river came; and nearer, upon the +great stream itself, a few boats were idling. In the bend formed by the +point, and quite near the lake, lay a small town, its wooden wharves and +warehouses lining the shore for some distance. Lower down, the bank rose +high, dropping precipitously to the water's edge; and nearer still, the +precipice changed to a steep, but green and wooded bank, and here, on +the summit of the bank, stood Mrs. Costello's cottage.</p> + +<p>It was a charming white nest, with a broad verandah all embowered in +green, so placed as to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> look out upon the river through a screen of +boughs and flowers. If you had seen Mrs. Costello and her daughter +sitting upon the verandah, as they were tolerably sure to be found every +day while summer lasted, you would have owned that it would be hard to +find a prettier picture set in a prettier frame.</p> + +<p>This evening they were there alone. Mrs. Costello had her work-table +placed at the end nearest the river, and her rocking-chair beside it. +Some knitting was in her hands, but she could not knit, for her ball of +wool was being idly wound and unwound round her daughter's fingers.</p> + +<p>Sitting on a footstool, leaning back against her mother's knee, was this +daughter—a child loved (it could almost be seen at a glance) with an +absorbing, passionate love. A girl of seventeen, just between child and +woman, who seemed to have been a baby but yesterday, and who still, in +the midst of her new womanly grace, kept her caressing baby ways. +Something unusual, not only in degree but in kind, belonged to her +brilliant beauty, and set it off. The marvellous blackness of hair and +eyes was so soft in its depth, the tint of her skin so transparent in +its duskiness, her slight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> figure so flexible, so exquisite in its +outlines, that it was impossible not to wonder what the type was which +produced so perfect an example. Spanish it was said to be, but the child +was Canadian by birth, and her mother English; it was clear that +whatever race had bestowed Lucia's dower of beauty, it had come to her +through her father.</p> + +<p>Mother and daughter often sat as now, silent and idle both; Lucia +dreaming after her girlish fashion, and Mrs. Costello content to wait +and let her life be absorbed in her child's. But to-night Lucia was +dreaming of England, the far-away "home" which she had never seen, but +of which almost all her elder friends spoke, and where her mother's +childhood and girlhood had been passed. She still leaned her head back +lazily as she began to talk.</p> + +<p>"Are English sunsets as lovely as ours, Mamma?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled. "I can't tell," she said; "they are as lovely to +me,—but I only see them in memory."</p> + +<p>"You have often talked about going home, when shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"I have talked of <i>your</i> going, not of mine—<i>that</i> will never be."</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" Lucia raised her head. She looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> at her mother inquiringly, +but somehow she felt that Mrs. Costello could not talk to her just then. +A troubled expression crossed her own face for a moment, then she put +down the ball of wool and laid her arms caressingly round her mother's +waist.</p> + +<p>But both again remained silent for many minutes, so silent that the +faint wash of the river against the bank sounded plainly, and a +woodpecker could be heard making his last tap-tap on a tree by the +garden-gate.</p> + +<p>By-and-by Mrs. Costello spoke again, as if there had been no +interruption. "But about this picnic, Lucia; do you think it would be a +great sacrifice to give it up?"</p> + +<p>"A great sacrifice? Why, mamma, you must think me a baby to ask such a +question. I stayed away from the best one last summer without breaking +my heart."</p> + +<p>"Last summer I thought you too young for large parties, but this year I +have let you go—and, indeed, I do not forbid your going this time. +Understand that clearly, my child. I have only fancy, not reason, to set +against your wishes."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you are not fanciful. Since you wish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> me to stay at home, I +wish it also. Forget the picnic altogether."</p> + +<p>She sprang up, kissed her mother's forehead, and darted away to the +further end of the verandah, bursting out into a gay song as she leaned +over to gather a spray of pale prairie roses that climbed up the +trellis-work. The pretty scentless blossoms were but just caught, when a +rattling of wheels was heard on the stony lane which led from the +high-road to the cottage.</p> + +<p>"Who can be coming now? Margery is out, mamma, and the gate is fastened; +I must go and open it."</p> + +<p>She darted into the house on her errand—for the principal entrance was +in the gable end of the building—but before she had had time to cross +the parlour and hall to the outer door, the little garden-gate opened, +and a very pretty woman in a grey cloak and straw hat came through, and +up the verandah steps with the air of a person perfectly at home.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello rose to meet her with an exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bellairs! We never thought of it being you. Lucia is gone to open +the gate."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I found the little one open; so I left Bella to take care of Bob, and +came round. In fact, I ought not to be here at all, but as I wanted to +persuade you about to-morrow, I ran away the moment dinner was over, and +must run back again instantly."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, at any rate, while you <i>are</i> here."</p> + +<p>She sat down, and taking off her hat, threw it on the floor.</p> + +<p>"How delicious this is! I believe you don't know what heat means. I have +been half dead all day, and not a moment's rest, I assure you, with the +people continually coming to ask some stupid question or to borrow +something. The house is half stripped now and I fully expect that before +to-morrow night it will be emptied of everything movable in it."</p> + +<p>"You are surely getting up something more elaborate than usual; do you +expect to have so much pleasure?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I suppose the young people do. Of course, staid matrons like you +and me," with a gay laugh, "cannot be quite so sanguine; but, however, +they do expect great fun, and I came to <i>implore</i> you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> let Lucia +come. I assure you I won't answer for the consequences if she does not."</p> + +<p>"Lucia shall go if she wishes it." Mrs. Costello spoke gravely, and +stopped abruptly. She resumed, "You know I never leave home; and it may +be excused to a mother who sees nothing of the world, to fear it a +little for her only child."</p> + +<p>"<i>Such</i> a child, too! She is growing perfectly lovely. But, then, dear +Mrs. Costello, the very idea of calling our tiny backwood's society, +'the world;' and as for Lucia, if you <i>will</i> not come with her, I +promise, at any rate, to take the same care of her as I will of my Flo +when she is big enough to face our great world."</p> + +<p>She spoke laughing, but with some earnestness under the sparkle of her +bright eyes; and immediately afterwards rose, saying, "I suppose Bella +cannot leave Bob, and Lucia will not leave Bella, so I must go to them; +and if Lucia pleases, she may come to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I am foolish. She shall come, I promise you for her. And, +indeed, I ought to thank you also."</p> + +<p>"No, no; I can't expect to be thanked for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> committing a theft. Good-bye. +I shall send Bella to fetch her. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She took up her hat, gave her friend a kiss, and ran down the steps and +out again, through the wicket by which she had entered. A minute after +the sound of her little carriage rolling away was heard, and Lucia came +back flushed and puzzled.</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, you have been overpersuaded. Indeed; I do not want to go."</p> + +<p>"I think you do, darling; or will do by-and-by. I have quite changed my +mind, and promised Mrs. Bellairs to send you to her in the morning; so +now all you have to do is to see that your things are ready. Two +toilettes to prepare! What an event for such a country girl as you! Come +in and let us see."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, you know my things are all ready. I don't want to go in. I don't +want to go."</p> + +<p>"Lucia! Are <i>you</i> changeable, also, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, mamma. At least not without cause."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled, "What is the cause at present?"</p> + +<p>Lucia moved impatiently. "Oh, it is so stupid!" she said.</p> + +<p>"What is stupid? A picnic?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, people," and she laughed half shyly, half saucily, and blushed +deeper still.</p> + +<p>"What people?"</p> + +<p>"Bella has been telling me—;"</p> + +<p>"Telling you what, my child? That people are stupid?"</p> + +<p>Lucia sat down again in her old place, and pulled her mother back into +hers. Then with her two elbows resting on Mrs. Costello's lap, and her +red cheek hidden by her hands, she answered, with a comical sort of +disdain and half-affected anger,</p> + +<p>"Mamma, just think. At Mrs. Bellairs' to-day, at dinner, Mr. Percy was +asking questions about what was going to be done to-morrow, and he did +not seem to think, Bella said, that the picnic would be much fun, but he +was greatly amused by the idea of dancing in a half-finished house, and +wanted to know where they would find enough ladies for partners; so Mr. +Bellairs said there were plenty of partners in the neighbourhood, and +pretty ones, too; and Mr. Percy made some speech about being already +quite convinced of the beauty of the Cacouna ladies. You know the kind +of thing a man would say when Mrs. Bellairs and Bella were there. But +Mr. Bellairs told him he had not yet seen a fair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> specimen; but that +there was a little half Spanish girl here who would show him what beauty +meant. Mamma, was it not dreadfully stupid of him?" And Lucia, in spite +of her indignation, could not restrain a laugh as she looked, half shy, +half saucy, into her mother's face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello laughed too; but there was as deep a flush on her cheek as +on her daughter's, and her heart throbbed painfully.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "but this <i>rara avis</i> was not named?"</p> + +<p>"Yes she was. Oh! I can't tell you all; but you know Maurice was there, +and Mr. Bellairs told Mr. Percy that he ought to be the best qualified +to describe her, because he saw her every day. Then Mr. Percy asked what +was her name, and Mr. Bellairs told him. But when Mr. Percy asked +Maurice something, he only said, 'Do you believe people <i>can</i> be +described, Mr. Percy? I don't; and if I did, I should not make a +catalogue of a lady's qualities for the benefit of others.'"</p> + +<p>"Well done, Lucia, most correctly reported. Who has been telling tales?"</p> + +<p>An unsuspected listener stepped out with these words from the dark +parlour on to the verandah;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> but Lucia, springing up at the sound of his +voice, flew past him and disappeared.</p> + +<p>He came forward, "Don't be angry, Mrs. Costello. I met Margery at the +gate, and she sent me in. I assure you I did not hear more than the last +sentence; yet, you see I met with a listener's fate."</p> + +<p>"I <i>don't</i> see it at all. On the contrary, you did hear good of +yourself."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you think so. Lucia is to be with Mrs. Bellairs to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She says at present that she will not, but we shall see."</p> + +<p>"I left early, and met Mrs. Bellairs and Miss Latour on the way. They +told me they had been here."</p> + +<p>Maurice leaned against a pillar of the verandah and was silent, his eyes +turned to the door through which Lucia had vanished.</p> + +<p>The new guest was much too intimate for Mrs. Costello to dream of +"making conversation." She sat quite still looking out.</p> + +<p>By this time sunset had entirely faded from the sky, and a few stars +were beginning to twinkle faintly; but the rising moon, herself +invisible, threw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> a lovely silver brightness over the river and made a +flitting sail glimmer out snowy white as it went silently with a zigzag +course up the stream. Between the river and the cottage every object +began to be visible with that cold distinctness of outline which belongs +to clear moonlight,—every rail of the garden fence, every plant that +grew beyond the shadow of the building. A tall acacia-tree which stood +on one side waved its graceful leaves in the faint breeze, and caught +the light on its long clusters of creamy blossom.</p> + +<p>Everything was so peaceful that there seemed, even to herself, a strange +discord between the scene within and the heavy pain that sunk deep into +her heart this evening—a trembling sense of dread—a passionate yet +impotent desire to escape. She pressed her hand upon her heart. The +motion roused her from her reverie which indeed had lasted but a +minute—one of those long minutes when we in one glance seem to retrace +years of the past, and to make a fruitless effort to pierce the veil of +the future. She rose, and, bidding her companion "Come in," stepped into +the little parlour.</p> + +<p>A shaded lamp had been brought in and placed on the table, but the flame +was turned down so as to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> throw only a glimmering light just around it. +Mrs. Costello turned it up brightly, and opening the door of the +adjoining room, called Lucia, who came, slow and reluctant, at the +summons. Maurice pushed forward a little chintz-covered chair into its +accustomed place by the table, and looked at the wilful girl as much as +to say, "Be reasonable and make friends," but she did not choose to see.</p> + +<p>"I can't sit indoors," she said, "it is too hot;" so she went and sat +down on the doorstep.</p> + +<p>Maurice gave a little impatient sigh, and dropped into a chair which +stood opposite to Mrs. Costello, but turned so that without positively +looking round, he could see the soft flow of Lucia's muslin dress, and +the outline of her head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>He had brought, as usual, various odds and ends of news, scraps of +European politics or gossip, and morsels of home intelligence, such as +women who do not read newspapers like to be told by those who do, and he +began to talk about them, but with no interest in what he said; +completely preoccupied with that obstinate figure in the doorway. +By-and-by, however, the figure changed its position; the head was +gradually turned more towards the speakers, and Maurice's as gradually +was averted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> until the two attitudes were completely reversed; he and +Mrs. Costello appeared to be engrossed in the subject of a conversation +which had now grown animated, while Lucia, from her retreat, stole more +and more frequent glances at the visitor. At length she rose softly, and +stealing, with the shy step of a child who knows it has been naughty, to +her own chair, she slipped into it. A half smile came to Maurice's lips, +but he knew his old playfellow's moods too well to take the least notice +of her movement, and even when she asked him a question, he simply +answered it, and did not even look at her in doing so.</p> + +<p>An hour passed. Lucia had entirely recovered from her little fit of +sulkiness, and, to the great content of Maurice, was, if possible, even +more sweet and winning than usual; but nothing had been said of the next +day's plans. When the young man rose to leave, however, Lucia followed +him out to the verandah to look at the moonlight.</p> + +<p>"We shall have a fine day to-morrow" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maurice," she answered, quickly, as if she had been waiting for the +opportunity of speaking, "I am sure mamma does not want me to go, and I +would so much rather stay at home. Will you go and tell Mrs. Bellairs in +the morning for me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Impossible! Why Lucia, this is a mere fancy of yours."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is not. I am quite in earnest."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear child, Mrs. Bellairs has your mother's promise, and I do +not see how you can break a positive engagement without better reason."</p> + +<p>She stood silent, looking down.</p> + +<p>"Are you thinking of that foolish conversation at dinner to-day? I +wonder Mrs. Bellairs should have repeated it."</p> + +<p>"It was Bella Latour who told me."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Maurice, "I forgot her. Of course it was. Well, at any rate, +think no more of it."</p> + +<p>"That's very easily said," she answered dolorously "but I do think it's +not right," she added with energy, the hot colour rushing into her +cheeks, "to speak about one so. It is quite impertinent."</p> + +<p>Maurice laughed. "Upon my word I believe very few young ladies would +agree with you; however, I assure you it would be giving the enemy an +advantage to stay away to-morrow, and I suppose, if I constitute myself +your highness's body-guard, you will not be afraid of any more +impertinence of the same kind."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>He said "Good-night," and ran down the steps. As he passed along the +path under the verandah where she stood, she took one of the half-faded +roses from her belt and flung it at him. He caught it and with mock +gallantry pressed it to his heart; but as he turned through the wicket +and along the footpath which led to his home close by, he continued +twirling the flower in his fingers. Once it dropped, and without +thinking he stooped, and picked it up. He carried it into the house with +him, and into his own room, where he laid it down upon his writing-table +and forgot it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Margery had fastened doors and windows at the cottage, and +soon all was silent and dark, except the glimmer of Mrs. Costello's lamp +which often burned far into the night. Lucia had been long asleep when +her mother stole into her room for that last look which it was her habit +to take before she lay down. It was a little white chamber which had +been fitted up twelve years before for a child's use; but the child had +grown almost into a woman, and there were traces of her tastes and +occupations all about. There was a little book-shelf, where Puss in +Boots, and Goldsmith's History of England, still kept their places, +though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> the Princess had stepped in between them; there was a drawing of +the cottage executed under Maurice's teaching; here was a little +work-basket, and there a half-written note. Enough moonlight stole in +through the window to show distinctly the lovely dark face resting on +the pillow, and surrounded by long hair, glossy, and black as jet. Mrs. +Costello stood silently by the bedside.</p> + +<p>A kind of shudder passed over her. "She is lovely," she said to herself; +"but that terrible beauty! If she had had my pale skin and hair, I +should have feared less; but she has nothing of that beauty from me. Yet +perhaps it is the best; the whole mental nature may be mine, as the +whole physical is——" Her hand pressed strongly upon her heart. "I have +been at peace so long," she went on, "yet I always knew trouble must +come again, and through <i>her</i>; but if it were only for me, it would be +nothing. Now <i>she</i> must suffer. I had thought she might escape. But it +is the old story, the sins of the fathers——Can no miseries of mine be +enough to free her?"</p> + +<p>She turned away into her own room, and shut the door softly, so as not +to wake her child; yet firmly, as if she would shut out even that child +from all share in her solitary burden.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>Maurice's prediction of a fine day proved true. At twelve o'clock the +weather was as brilliant as possible; the sky blue and clear, the river +blue and glittering. The Mermaid, a small steamer, lay in the wharf, +gaily decorated with flags; and throngs of people began to gather at the +landing and on the deck. Among a group of the most important guests, +stood the acknowledged leader of the expedition, the 'Queen of Cacouna,' +Mrs. Bellairs. She was talking fast and merrily to everybody in turn, +giving an occasional glance to the provision baskets as they were +carried on board, and meantime keeping an anxious look-out along the +bank of the river, for the appearance of her own little carriage,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> which +ought to have been at the rendezvous long ago.</p> + +<p>A very handsome man stood beside her. He was of a type the more striking +because specimens of it so rarely found their way in to the fresh, +vigorous, hard-working Colonial society. Remarkably tall, yet perfectly +proportioned, the roughest backwoodsman might have envied his apparent +physical strength; polished in manner to a degree which just, and only +just, escaped effeminacy, the most spoiled beauty might have been proud +of his homage. At present, however, he stood lazily enough, smiling a +little at his hostess' vivacity, exchanging a word or two with her +husband, or following the direction of her eyes along the road. At last +a cloud of dust appeared. "Here they are, I believe," cried Mrs. +Bellairs. "Ah! Maurice, I ought to have sent you, two girls never are to +be trusted." Mr. Percy turned round. He was conscious of a little amused +curiosity about this Backwoods beauty, and, at hearing this second +appeal to Maurice where she was concerned, it occurred to him to look +more attentively than he had done before at the person appealed to. They +were standing opposite to each other, and they had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> three attributes in +common. Both were tall, both young, and both handsome. Percy was +twenty-eight, and looked more than his age. Maurice was twenty-four, and +looked less. Percy was fair—his features were admirable—his expression +and manner had actually no other fault than that of being too still and +languid. Maurice had brown hair, now a little tossed and disordered (for +he had been busy all morning on board the boat), a pair of brown eyes of +singular beauty, clear and true, and a tolerable set of features, which, +like his manner, varied considerably, according to the humour he +happened to be in. Percy was a man of the world, understood and +respected "les convenances," and never shocked anybody. Maurice knew +nothing about the world, and having no more refined rule of conduct than +the simple one of right and wrong, which is, perhaps, too lofty for +every-day use, he occasionally blundered in his behaviour to people he +did not like. At present, indeed, for some reason, by no means clear to +himself, he returned the Englishman's glance in anything but a friendly +manner.</p> + +<p>Bob, the grey pony, trotted down the wharf with his load. Half-a-dozen +idlers rushed forwards to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> help the two girls out of the carriage, and +into the boat. Bob marched off in charge of a groom; the paddles began +to turn, the flags waved, the band struck up, and the boat moved quickly +away down, the stream.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs, relieved from her watch, had sunk into a chair placed on +deck, and sent her husband to bring the truants. Maurice remained beside +her, and when the rest of the group had a little separated, he bent down +and said to her,</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Bellairs, don't scold Lucia if the delay is her fault. She +had some objection to leaving her mother to-day, and even wanted me to +excuse her to you."</p> + +<p>"She is a spoiled child," was the answer. "But, however, I will forgive +her this once for your sake."</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy certainly had not <i>listened</i>, but as certainly he had heard +this short dialogue. He was rather bored; he did not find Cacouna very +amusing, and had not yet found even that last resource of idle men—a +woman to flirt with. He was in the very mood to be tempted by anything +that promised the slightest distraction, and there was undeniably +something irritating in the idea of there being in the neighbourhood one +sole and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> unapproachable beauty, and of that one being given up by +common consent to a boy, a mere Canadian boor! Of course he could not +understand that no one else could have seen this matter in the light he +did; that everybody, or nearly everybody, thought of Maurice and Lucia +as near neighbours and old playfellows, and no more. So he felt a very +slight stir of indignation, which, in the dearth of other sensations, +was not disagreeable. But then probably the girl was quite over-praised; +no beauty at all, in fact. People in these outlandish places did not +appreciate anything beyond prettiness. "Here she comes."</p> + +<p>He almost said the words aloud as Mr. Bellairs brought her forward, but +instantly felt disgusted with himself, and stepped back, almost +determined not to look at her at all; yet, after all, he was positively +curious, and then he must look at her by-and-by. Too late now,—she was +talking to Maurice,—always Maurice,—and had her back completely +turned; there was nothing visible but the outline of a tall slight +figure. "Not ungraceful, certainly; but Mrs. Bellairs is graceful, and +Miss Latour not bad; it must be walking so much. What a gorilla that +fellow looks! The women here are decidedly better than the men."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>His soliloquy stopped short. Lucia had turned to look at something, and +their eyes met. A most lovely crimson flush rushed to her cheeks, and +gave her face the only beauty it generally wanted; she instantly turned +away again, but Mr. Percy's meditations remained suspended. A few +minutes afterwards he walked away to the other end of the boat, and +Lucia felt relieved when she caught sight of his tall figure towering +among a cloud of muslins and feathers, quite out of hearing. Maurice +brought her a stool, and she sat peaceably leaning against the bulwarks, +and enjoying the bright day and swift motion, until they reached the +small woody island where the party were to dine.</p> + +<p>The boat was soon deserted, and the gentlemen occupied themselves in +arranging the hampers and packages near to the place chosen for dinner. +Then three or four of the most capable being left in charge of the +preparations, the rest dispersed in all directions until they should be +summoned to their meal.</p> + +<p>A number of the young girls, under the guidance of Bella Latour, crossed +the island to the edge of a tiny bay, where they stained their fingers +with wild<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> strawberries, and washed them in the river. They collected +enough fruit to fill all the large leaves they could find, and then sat +down under the shade of a tree to enjoy their spoil and "a good talk." +This highest of feminine delights, however, was not left uninterrupted. +Half-a-dozen gentlemen made their appearance, carrying bows, arrows, +targets, etc., and seeking a good place for an impromptu archery-ground. +Everybody sprang up, the ground was chosen, bows and arrows distributed, +and shouts of laughter began to follow each shot of the unpractised +archers. Of the whole group, Bella, Lucia, and May Anderson, a little +yellow-haired Scotch girl, were the only ones who had even attempted to +shoot before. May was the first whose arrow touched the target at all, +and her success was followed by other failures, until Lucia's turn came. +Lucia, to confess the truth, was a little out of humour still. She was +not enjoying herself at all, though it would have puzzled her to say +why, and she took the bow that was offered her, and stepped forward to +her place in the laziest way imaginable. A considerable number of +lookers-on had by this time gathered round the clear space, and just as +she was carelessly raising her bow she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> caught sight of Mrs. Bellairs' +grey cloak, and Mr. Percy's tall figure beside it.</p> + +<p>"The fop!" she said to herself. "He thinks we are all half savages," and +with the energy of her ill-humour she suddenly changed her attitude, +drew her bow, and sent her arrow straight to the centre.</p> + +<p>Of course it was all chance. Nobody was more astonished than herself, +but at any rate it was a success, and success is always agreeable. +Before she had time to peril her new reputation by a second trial, the +boat-bell rung to announce dinner, and everybody returned to the place +which had been chosen for the meal.</p> + +<p>All picnics have a strong family likeness: even in Canada there is +nothing new in them. Mr. Percy hated picnics, and found this one neither +more nor less stupid than usual. The slight fillip which Lucia had +innocently given to his bored faculties, soon subsided. He sat near her +at dinner, and thought her stupid; he noticed too that she wore her hat +badly, and had a very countrified air, "of course."</p> + +<p>The boat returned up the river much more slowly than it had gone down. +The elder people were tired, and the younger ones began to think of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> the +evening, and to reserve themselves for it. The band played at intervals, +with long pauses, as if the musicians were tired too. Mrs. Bellairs had +resumed her chair on deck, but some of the elder ladies were gathered +round her; Bella and Lucia sat together in one corner. Dr. Morton, the +most desirable <i>parti</i> in Cacouna, was literally, as well as +figuratively, at Bella's feet, and Maurice leaned on the railing beside +them. Mr. Percy was happier than he had been all day; he had been taken +possession of by a pretty young matron—an Englishwoman, who still +talked of "home," and they had found out some mutual acquaintance, of +whom she was eager to hear news. Yet he was not too much engrossed to +perceive the group opposite to him, or even to keep up a kind of +half-conscious surveillance over them. At the landing the party +dispersed, almost all to meet again in the evening at the unfinished +house, which had been appropriated for a ball-room. Mrs. Bellairs drove +her sister and Lucia home, leaving Mr. Bellairs and Mr. Percy to follow; +and when they arrived, the ladies had shut themselves up in their rooms, +to drink tea and rest before dressing.</p> + +<p>At nine o'clock, while Mr. Percy was finishing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> his toilette, his host +knocked at the door. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Elise was anxious to +see the rooms before anybody arrived, so she and the girls are gone some +time ago with Maurice Leigh."</p> + +<p>"Gone! Why, Bellairs, what hours <i>do</i> people keep in Canada?"</p> + +<p>"In Cacouna they keep reasonable ones, my good cousin; we begin to dance +at nine and finish soon after twelve. That accounts for the young people +being young. But come, if you are ready."</p> + +<p>The house where the dance was to take place stood on a slight elevation, +so that its unglazed windows, blazing with light, shone out +conspicuously and lighted the approaching guests as they wound their way +among the rough heaps of mortar, planks, and various <i>débris</i> left by +the workmen. The two gentlemen made their way readily to the open door, +and stepped at once into full view of the ball-room.</p> + +<p>It was a space of about fifty feet long and thirty wide, running all +across the house from back to front. Chandeliers of most primitive +construction had been hung from the roof, and so skilfully decked with +green that the rough splinters of wood which formed them were completely +hidden. Flags<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> and garlands ornamented the rough brick walls, and with +plenty of light and flowers, and no small amount of taste and skill, the +volunteer decorators had in fact succeeded in making out of rather +unpromising materials, a very gay and brilliant-looking saloon.</p> + +<p>A small space near the door had been railed off, and served as a passage +to the dressing-rooms, from which sounds of voices and laughter came +merrily, though the ball-room itself was at present quite empty.</p> + +<p>"Your neighbours are not quite so punctual as you would have me +believe," said Mr. Percy; "there is not even a fiddler visible."</p> + +<p>At that moment Mrs. Bellairs put her head out of a dressing-room. "Oh, +William!" she said, "I'm so glad you are come. Have you seen Maurice or +Henry Scott?"</p> + +<p>"No indeed. Where are your fiddlers?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I want to know. When we came they had not arrived, and Henry +was gone to look for them. Maurice only waited a few minutes, and +finding they did not come, he went too. What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"Wait, I suppose. They are sure to be here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> immediately. I only hope +they will arrive tolerably sober."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs shrugged her shoulders and retreated. Mr. Percy smiled +rather contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Do these accidents often happen?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! no. I never knew anything to go wrong where Elise had the +management, before. But I must go and look if they are coming."</p> + +<p>He hurried out, but scarcely passed the doorway when the lost musicians +appeared, under the guidance of Maurice and Henry Scott. They were not, +perhaps, quite beyond suspicion as to sobriety, but there was no fear of +their being unable to do their duty reasonably well. The happy news of +their arrival being made known by the commencement of a vigorous tuning, +the doors of the dressing-rooms opened, and the ball-room began to fill.</p> + +<p>The common opinion of Cacouna had undoubtedly been that Mr. Percy—the +Honourable Edward Percy, whose name was in the Peerage—would dance the +first quadrille with Mrs. Bellairs. But sovereigns are permitted to be +capricious, especially female ones, and the Queen of Cacouna was not +above the weaknesses of her class. Perhaps Mr. Percy—who was certainly +bored himself—bored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> her a little. At any rate she signified her +intention of bestowing her hand upon an elderly gentleman, the owner of +the house, to whom, as she said, they were so much indebted for his +kindness in allowing them to metamorphose it as they had done.</p> + +<p>The gentleman, thus left at liberty to choose his own partner, found his +eyes turning naturally to Lucia; but before he had quite made up his +mind, Maurice came up to her.</p> + +<p>"Lucia," he said, "I shall be obliged to give up my quadrille. It is a +great nuisance; but keep the next for me, will you not?"</p> + +<p>She nodded and smiled, and he hurried off.</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy still stood undecided. His cousin touched him on the shoulder, +"Are not you going to dance?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," with the slightest possible shrug. "Miss Costello, if +you are disengaged, will you dance this quadrille with me?"</p> + +<p>Lucia turned when he spoke. The same deep crimson flush came to her face +as when their eyes had first met that morning. She felt angry with him +for asking her, and with Maurice for having left her free. She longed to +say to him some of the civil impertinences women can use to men they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +dislike, but she was too great a novice, and found no better expedient +than to accept the invitation as coolly as it was given. Probably, +however, Mr. Percy attributed her blush to a cause very different from +its real one; or else there was something soothing and agreeable in +finding himself in possession of incomparably the prettiest partner in +the room, for he began almost immediately to feel less bored, and +positively roused himself to the extent of making some exertion to +please his reluctant companion.</p> + +<p>Now, it was all very well for Lucia to be cross, and to nurse her +crossness to the last possible minute, but a girl of sixteen, however +pretty and however spoiled, is not generally gifted with sufficient +strength of mind or badness of temper, to remain quite insensible to the +good qualities of a handsome man, who evidently wishes to make himself +agreeable to her. When the man in question is the lion of the day, +probably his success becomes inevitable; at all events, Lucia gradually +recovered her good humour, and kept up her part of the broken chat +possible under the circumstances, with enough grace and spirit to give +to her extraordinary beauty the last crowning charm which Percy had not, +until then, found in it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus they finished their quadrille in good humour with each other, but +as they left their place to rejoin Mrs. Bellairs, Maurice Leigh came +into the room by a side door. The sight of him reminded Mr. Percy of the +short dialogue he had heard.</p> + +<p>"You are engaged for the next quadrille, are you not?" he asked Lucia.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to Maurice. I promised it to him instead of the first."</p> + +<p>"You were to have danced this one with him, then?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "It is a childish arrangement of ours," she said; "we +agreed, long ago, always to dance the first quadrille together, and +everybody knows of it, so no one asks me for that."</p> + +<p>"I wonder at his being willing to miss his privilege to-night; you must +be very indulgent, not to punish him."</p> + +<p>"Oh! you know he is acting as a kind of steward to-night and has so many +things to do. It was not his fault."</p> + +<p>"And you would have waited patiently for him?"</p> + +<p>"Patiently? I don't know. Certainly I should have waited, for no one but +a stranger would have asked me to dance."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope, however, you forgive me."</p> + +<p>They had reached Mrs. Bellair's, and she only answered by a smile as she +sat down. A minute after, she was carried off by another partner, and +Mr. Percy took possession of the vacant place.</p> + +<p>The evening passed on. At the end of it, Mr. Percy, shut up in his own +room, surprised himself in the midst of a reverie the subject of which +was Lucia Costello; he actually found himself comparing her with a +certain Lady Adeliza Weymouth, of whom he had been supposed to be +<i>épris</i> the season before. But then Lady Adeliza had no particular claim +to beauty; she was "distinguished" and of a powerful family; as for +Lucia, on the other hand, she was——There! it was no use going off +into that question. A great deal more sense to go to bed.</p> + +<p>Meantime Lucia, under Maurice's escort, was on her way home. They had +started, talking gaily enough, but before half the distance was passed +they grew silent.</p> + +<p>After a long pause Maurice asked, "Are you very tired?"</p> + +<p>Lucia's meditation had carried her so far away that she started at the +sound of his voice.</p> + +<p>"Tired? oh, no! At least not very much."</p> + +<p>"And you have enjoyed the day after all?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pretty well. Not much, I think."</p> + +<p>"I thought you looked happy enough this evening. Come, confess you are +glad you did not stay at home."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will not; mamma, I am sure, wished me to stay?"</p> + +<p>"Yet she made you come."</p> + +<p>"Yes, because she thought I wanted to do so. Maurice, do you think she +looks ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, I have not noticed it. Does she complain?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma complain! A thing she <i>never</i> does. But it seems to me that +something is different. I can't tell what. She goes out less than ever, +and seems to dislike my leaving her." Lucia longed to say, "She has some +trouble; some heavy anxiety; can you guess what it is?" but she had an +instinctive consciousness, that even to this dear and tried friend, she +ought not to speak of a subject on which Mrs. Costello was invariably +silent. Even to herself, a certain darkness hung over her mother's past +life; there were years of it of which she felt utterly ignorant. +Whatever was the cloud of the present, it might be connected with the +recollections of those years; this thought checked her even while she +spoke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Whether Maurice had any similar reason for reticence or not, he only +said, "I do not think she would hide anything from you which need give +you uneasiness. I advise you not to torment yourself causelessly."</p> + +<p>"I am not tormenting myself; but I think yours is a miserable plan. You +would have people feel no sympathy for the troubles of others, unless +they can be paraded in so many words."</p> + +<p>"Decidedly you must be very tired, or you would take the trouble to +understand me better."</p> + +<p>He put down his whip, to draw her cloak more closely round her, for the +dewy night air was chill, but she pushed it away.</p> + +<p>"I am quite warm, thank you. How long the road seems to-night! Shall we +ever be at home?"</p> + +<p>"We are almost there. See, that is your own acacia-tree."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad. Don't turn up the lane. I can run up there perfectly well +by myself."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you will not. Sit still, if you please."</p> + +<p>"How tiresome you are, Maurice! You treat me just as if I were a baby."</p> + +<p>"Do I? A bad habit, I suppose. I will try to cure myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>His tone was so quiet, so free from either ridicule or anger, that she +grew more impatient still.</p> + +<p>"Now pray do let me get out. I can see Mr. Leigh's light burning still, +as well as mamma's. They must both be tired of waiting. Why does your +father always sit up for you, Maurice? Is he afraid to trust you?"</p> + +<p>"Lucia!" His tone was angry now, and silenced her. In another minute +they stopped at the gate of the cottage.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had heard the sound of their wheels, and instantly opened +the door. Lucia's half-formed intention of making some kind of apology +for her petulance, had no time to ripen. Maurice helped her down without +speaking, bade her good night, exchanged a word or two with her mother, +and drove slowly away again.</p> + +<p>Mother and daughter went in together to Lucia's room; but Mrs. Costello, +noticing that her child looked pale and weary, left her almost +immediately. Lucia instantly flew to the window. The farmhouse where Mr. +Leigh and Maurice lived was so near that the lights in its different +windows could be plainly distinguished. After a moment, the one which +had been burning steadily as they passed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> house, flickered suddenly, +disappeared, and then, shone more brightly through the opening door.</p> + +<p>"He is at home," said Lucia to herself. "Poor Maurice, how good he is! +What on earth made me so cross?"</p> + +<p>She continued to watch. Presently the light which had returned to the +sitting-room vanished altogether, and a fainter gleam stole out from +what she knew to be the window of Maurice's room. She said "Good-night" +softly, as if he could hear her, dropped her curtain, and was soon fast +asleep.</p> + +<p>That night Mrs. Costello's lamp was extinguished long before Maurice's. +Tired and dispirited, he had seated himself before his little +writing-table, and given himself up to a dream of no pleasant kind. It +was so completely the habit of his life to think of Lucia that it would +have been strange if her image had not been prominent in his +meditations; but to-night for the first time he tried to get rid of this +image. He was used to her whims and changing moods, to her waywardness +and occasional tyranny. When he was a boy they had often quarrelled, and +taxed the efforts of his sister Alice, Lucia's inseparable friend, to +reconcile them; but since his long absence at college, and, above all,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +since Alice's death, they had ceased to torment each other. The +relations of master and pupil had been added to those of playfellows, +and their intercourse had run on so smoothly that until to-night Maurice +had never known his charge's full power to irritate him. Like most +persons of steady and equable temperament, he felt deeply annoyed, even +humiliated, by having been surprised into impatience and anger; he was +doubly displeased with himself and with Lucia. Yet, as he thought of her +his mood softened; she was only a child, and would be good to-morrow. +But then she could not always be a child—a girl of sixteen ought to be +beginning to be reasonable; and then she did not look such a child. He +had been struck by that idea at one particular moment of this very +evening. It was when he had returned to the ball-room at the close of +the first quadrille, and had met Lucia walking up the room with Mr. +Percy. They had been talking together with animation; Lucia was a little +flushed, and looking more lovely than usual. Mr. Percy, for his part, +appeared to have forgotten his cool, almost supercilious manner, and to +be occupied more with her than with himself.</p> + +<p>Maurice felt his cheek grow red as he recalled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> the picture. He moved +impatiently, and in doing so, displaced some loose papers, which slipped +to the ground. In stooping to gather them up, his hand touched a dead +flower, which had fallen with them. It was Lucia's rose. He was just +about to throw it down again, when his hand stopped. "She spoke of +something different," he muttered; "are the old times coming to an end, +I wonder? Times <i>must</i> change, I suppose." He sighed, and instead of +throwing the rose away, he slipped it into an envelope and locked it +into his desk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>The Honourable Edward Percy was the younger son of the Earl of +Lastingham, and might therefore be readily excused if he considered +himself a person of some importance in a country where a baronetcy is +the highest hereditary dignity, and where many of the existing +"honourables" began life as country storekeepers or schoolmasters. It is +true that in his own proper orbit, this luminary appeared but a star of +small magnitude, his handsome person and agreeable qualities making +slight compensation for a want of fortune which he had always considered +a special hardship in his own case; regarding himself as admirably +fitted by nature for spending money, and knowing by experience that his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +abilities were totally inadequate to saving it. His family was not rich; +so far from it, indeed, that the great object of the Earl had been to +marry his daughters like Harpagon's "sans dot," a task which was not yet +satisfactorily accomplished; and all he had been able to do for his +younger son, had been to use the very small political influence he +possessed, to start him in life as an <i>attaché</i>.</p> + +<p>So the young man had seen various Courts, and improved his French and +German; and at nearly thirty years of age he had begun to think that it +was time to take another step in life.</p> + +<p>This idea was strengthened by a short conversation with his father. He +had paid a visit to Lastingham with the double object of attending the +marriage of one of his sisters, and of trying to persuade the Earl to +pay some inconvenient debts. But the moment he mentioned, with due +caution, this second reason for his arrival, he found it a hopeless +cause. He represented that his income was small, and his prospects of +advancement extremely slender.</p> + +<p>"Marry," said the Earl.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I would rather not. I want to get rid of my incumbrances, +not to increase them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Marry," repeated the Earl.</p> + +<p>"But whom?" asked his son, staggered by this oracular response.</p> + +<p>"Miss Drummond."</p> + +<p>"She's fifty, at least."</p> + +<p>"And has a hundred thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>"She would not have me."</p> + +<p>"You are growing modest."</p> + +<p>"Not in that respect. She has refused half-a-dozen offers every season +for the last twenty years."</p> + +<p>"Miss Pelham?"</p> + +<p>"What would be the use of that?"</p> + +<p>"Family interest."</p> + +<p>"Too many sons in the way."</p> + +<p>"Lady Adeliza Weymouth?"</p> + +<p>Percy made a slight grimace.</p> + +<p>"She is a year older than I am, and has a red nose; otherwise——"</p> + +<p>"You had better think of it, at any rate," said the Earl, "and try if +she will have you. Depend upon it, a sensible marriage is the best thing +for you."</p> + +<p>On which advice the son had dutifully acted. Fortune favoured him so far +as to give him oppor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>tunities of cultivating the good graces of Lady +Adeliza, and matters appeared to be going on prosperously. It seemed, +however, that either the gentleman found wooing in earnest to be a more +fatiguing business than he had anticipated, or he thought that a short +absence might increase the chances in his favour, for on the slightest +possible pretence of being sent out by Government he started off one day +for Canada.</p> + +<p>Now, when Lord Lastingham had spoken so wisely about a sensible +marriage, he had been drawing lessons from his own experience. The late +Countess had been a very charming woman, of good family, but, like her +daughters, "sans dot;" and the infatuation which caused so imprudent a +connection not having lasted beyond the first year of matrimony, the +Earl had had plenty of time to repent and to calculate, over and over +again, how different the fortunes of his house might have been, had he +acted, himself, upon the principles he recommended to his son. It was +with some displeasure that he heard Edward's intention of giving up, for +a while, his pursuit of a desirable bride, and this displeasure was not +lessened by hearing that the truant intended prolonging his expedition, +for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> purpose of visiting his mother's nephew, William Bellairs.</p> + +<p>The journey, however, was made without any opposition on the Earl's +part. Mr. Percy spent a few weeks in Quebec, then the seat of +Government, and travelling slowly westward arrived finally at his +cousin's house at Cacouna. Mr. Bellairs was a barrister in good +practice; his pretty wife, a Frenchwoman by descent, had brought him a +fortune of considerable amount for the colonies, and knew how to make +his house sufficiently attractive. Both received their English relative +with hearty hospitality, and thus it happened that the even current of +Cacouna society was disturbed by the appearance of a visitor important +enough to be a centre of attraction.</p> + +<p>The morning after the picnic Mr. Bellairs proposed to his guest that +they should drive along the river-bank to some rapids a few miles +distant, which formed one of the objects to which visitors to Cacouna +were in the habit of making pilgrimages. They went accordingly, in a +light waggon, and having duly admired the rapids, and the surrounding +scenery, started for home. Their way led past the Leighs' house and the +end of the lane leading to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> Mrs. Costello's. Mr. Bellairs pointed them +both out to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Do you see that cottage close to the river? That is the nest of the +prettiest bird in Cacouna; and in this long white house to the right +lives my most hopeful pupil and my wife's right hand, Maurice Leigh."</p> + +<p>"Miss Costello told me they were near neighbours," said Mr. Percy. "Has +she no father or brother, that she seems to be so much the property of +this pupil of yours?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, poor girl! Her father died, I believe, when she was an +infant. Mrs. Costello came here twelve years ago, a widow, with this one +child."</p> + +<p>"Is young Leigh any relation?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs laughed. "Not at present certainly, though I have thought +it would come to that by-and-by. It is only a case of devoted +friendship. Alice Leigh, Maurice's sister, and Lucia used to be always +together; but poor Alice died, and I suppose Maurice felt bound to make +up to Lucia for the loss."</p> + +<p>"Who or what are the Leighs then? It is a queer-looking place."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Leigh is an Englishman; he came out here many years ago with a +young wife; she is dead and so are all her children except Maurice. +Father and son live there together alone."</p> + +<p>"I don't of course pretend to know how you manage such things in Canada, +but it appears to me that a beautiful girl, like Miss Costello, might +expect a better match, at least if one is to judge of the Leighs by +their house."</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that we should call Maurice a bad match for any girl. +With a fair amount of brains, and a great capacity for work, he would be +sure to get on in a country like ours, even if he were less thoroughly a +good fellow. He has but two faults; he is too scrupulous about trifles, +and a little too Quixotic in his ideas about women. However, my wife +will never let me say that."</p> + +<p>The subject did not interest Mr. Percy; he began to ask questions about +something else, and they soon after reached home. Later in the day Mrs. +Bellairs met him coming in extremely bored from her husband's office.</p> + +<p>"I am going to pay some visits," she said, "are you disposed to go with +me?"</p> + +<p>"Most thankfully," he answered. "I have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> listening to half-a-dozen +cases of trespass, not a single word of which I could understand. It +will be doing me the greatest kindness to take me into civilized +society."</p> + +<p>"I thought," she said laughing, "that you came to the backwoods to +escape civilized society."</p> + +<p>"If I did," he replied, handing her into the pony-carriage, "it is quite +clear that I made a happy mistake."</p> + +<p>"I am going first," she said, as soon as Bob was fairly in motion, "to +the Parsonage. Mr. and Mrs. Bayne were to have been with us yesterday, +but one of the children was ill, and I must inquire after it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy's politeness just enabled him to suppress a groan. He had seen +Mrs. Bayne once, and not been delighted,—and a sick child! However, +duty before all. They stopped at the gate of the Parsonage. It was a +tolerably large house, standing on a sloping lawn, overlooking the river +on one side and the little town on the other; but the lawn was entered +only by a wicket, so that Bob had to be fastened to the railing, while +the visitors walked up to the house.</p> + +<p>The moment they were seen approaching three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> or four children ran out of +the hall, where they were playing, and fell upon Mrs. Bellairs.</p> + +<p>"Don't eat me," she cried, kissing them all in turn. "Which is the +invalid? Where is mamma?"</p> + +<p>"It was Nina," shouted a chorus; "she fell into the river. Mamma's in +the house."</p> + +<p>By this time they had reached the door, and Mrs. Bayne appeared, having +been attracted by their voices. She was a little woman, thin and worn, +so worn indeed, by many children and many cares, that she looked fifty +instead of thirty-five. She had on a faded dress, and her collar and +cuffs had been soiled and crumpled by the attacks of her younger boys +and girls, especially the fat baby she held in her arms; but she had +long ago ceased to be embarrassed by the shabbiness of her toilette, or +the inevitable disorder of her sitting-room. She found seats for her +guests, and to do so pushed into the background the baby's cradle and an +old easy-chair, in which the luckless Nina was sitting bundled up in +shawls.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs took the baby, which instantly became absorbed in trying +to pull out the long feather of her hat, drew her chair close to the +little invalid, and began to inquire into the accident.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> Mr. Percy, +determined to make the best of his circumstances, endeavoured to make +friends with the heir of the house, a sturdy boy of nine or ten, but as +the young gentleman declined to do anything, except put his finger in +his mouth and stare, he found himself without other occupation than that +of listening to the conversation of the two ladies.</p> + +<p>"It was the night before last," Mrs. Bayne was saying; "they were +playing on the bank, and Miss Nina chose to climb into a tree that +overhangs the river. Of course when she got up, the most natural thing +in the world was that she should slip down again, but unluckily she did +not fall on the grass, but into the water."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs shuddered. "What an awful risk!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, they are always running risks. I am sure among the seven there +is always one in danger."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Charlie ran to the study to his papa, and when Mr. Bayne went +out, there was Nina, who had been partly stunned by her fall, beginning +to float away with the current. Fortunately she had fallen in so near +the edge that the water was very shal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>low, and if she had been in +possession of her senses, she might have dragged herself out I dare say; +but, you know, the current is very strong, and her papa had to get into +the river a little lower down and catch her as she was passing."</p> + +<p>"And she was insensible?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite when they brought her in, but then unluckily her wetting +brought on ague again, and she was shivering all night."</p> + +<p>"Poor Nina!" and Mrs. Bellairs turned to the miserable pale child, who +looked as if another shivering fit were coming on. "You must make haste +and get better, and come and stay with Flo for a while. We never have +ague."</p> + +<p>"You are fortunate," sighed Mrs. Bayne. "I wish that wretched swamp +<i>could</i> be done something to."</p> + +<p>"So do I, with all my heart. I must tease William into giving the people +no rest until they do it."</p> + +<p>"You will be doing us and our poor neighbours at the shanties no small +service. Ague is dreadfully bad there just now."</p> + +<p>A frantic pull at Mrs. Bellairs' hat from the baby interrupted the +conversation, and the visitors rose to go.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they were once more on the road Mrs. Bellairs turned laughingly to +her companion, "Tell me," she said, "don't you agree with me that a +visit to the Parsonage furnishes a tolerably strong argument in favour +of a clergy such as the Roman Catholic?"</p> + +<p>"That is, an unmarried one? Are many of your clergymen's wives like Mrs. +Bayne?"</p> + +<p>"If you mean are they worn out, overworked women? Yes, I believe so. How +can they help it indeed, when one hundred a year is a very ordinary +amount for a clergyman's income?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy shrugged his shoulders. "I agree with you entirely. No man +ought to marry under those circumstances. But I wish you would enlighten +me on one point,—what are shanties?"</p> + +<p>"Log-houses of the roughest possible kind, such as are built in the +woods for the gangs of lumberers; that is, you know, the men who cut +down the trees and prepare them for shipping."</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. Bayne said something about shanties near here."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Beyond their house, there lies, along the river, a swamp of no +great extent, which ought to have been drained long ago. Beyond that, on +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> edge of the bush, is a large saw-mill, and the families of the men +employed at this mill live in shanties close by. Every spring and autumn +the sickness among them is terrible, and sometimes there are bad cases +all through the summer. But you may imagine what it is among those +people in their wretched damp, unventilated homes, when even the Baynes +suffer as poor little Nina is doing now, and did most of the spring."</p> + +<p>"Delightful country!" said Mr. Percy, "and people positively like to +live here."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" replied Mrs. Bellairs, with spirit, "and with good cause. As for +what I have been telling you, has not England been quite as bad? I have +heard that in Lincolnshire, and the adjoining counties, not a lifetime +ago, ague was as prevalent as in our worst districts. The same means +which destroyed it there, will do so here; the work is half accomplished +already, for this very road on which we are driving was, twenty years +ago, little better than a bog along which it was not safe for a horse to +pass."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful energy your people must have, certainly. Where are we going +next?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs was provoked. She was an ardent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> lover of her country; and +to talk of its advantages and disadvantages with an interested companion +was to her a keen pleasure; the intense indifference of Mr. Percy's +reply, therefore, made her regard him for a moment with anything but +goodwill. She gave Bob a sharp "flick" with her whip, and paused a +minute before answering; when she did speak, it was with a little +malice.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have not yet had time to call on Maurice Leigh? I can +take you there now if you like. I often go to see old Mr. Leigh."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I saw young Leigh just now at William's office."</p> + +<p>"I am going to the Cottage then, that is, Mrs. Costello's."</p> + +<p>They were almost at the turning of the lane as she spoke, and directly +after came in sight of the pretty low house, standing in a perfect nest +of green. They stopped at the gate; and Margery, a decent middle-aged +woman, immediately came out to open it. She took hold of the pony like +an old acquaintance, and fastened him to a post in such a way that he +could amuse himself by nibbling the grass which grew along the +little-frequented path; then smoothing down her white apron, ushered +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> visitors into the parlour. The room was very dark, the Venetian +shutters being closed and blinds drawn down to keep out the glare and +heat of the day, but the flicker of a white dress on the verandah showed +where the two ladies were to be found. Mrs. Bellairs stepped out, and +was greeted by a cry of delight from Lucia.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are good! Is Bella here?"</p> + +<p>"Bella is gone to the Scotts', but Mr. Percy is with me."</p> + +<p>Lucia grew demure instantly, as the second guest came forward. "Mamma is +there," she said, and made room for them to pass along the verandah.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs presented her companion to her friend, and more chairs +were brought out, that the new-comers might enjoy the cool breeze and +shade. Mr. Percy might have preferred a seat near Lucia; fortune, +however, placed him beside her mother, and, like a wise man, he applied +himself to make the best of his position. How little trouble this cost +him he did not discover until afterwards; but, in fact, he had rarely +met with a woman who, by her own personal qualities, was so well fitted +to inspire feelings of both friendship and respect as this quiet +undemonstrative Mrs. Costello.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs meantime had discussed yesterday and its doings, +and passed to other plans of amusement—rides, drives, and fishing +parties. Time passed, as pleasant times often do, without anything +particular being said or done, to mark its flight, and the call had +lasted nearly an hour before it came to a close.</p> + +<p>When it did, permission had been wrung from Mrs. Costello for Lucia to +spend a long day with Mrs. Bellairs, at a farm in the country, which +belonged, jointly, to her and her sister. The whole family were to drive +out from Cacouna in the morning, calling for Lucia, and were to bring +her back in the evening.</p> + +<p>"Let us go this way," said Mrs. Bellairs, turning to the steps which led +down into the garden. Lucia followed her. "You have not seen my new +roses," she said. "Do come and look at them."</p> + +<p>"Bella told me you had some fine ones," answered Mrs. Bellairs, "but I +have not patience to look at my neighbours' flowers this year, mine have +been such a failure."</p> + +<p>"These certainly are not a failure," said Mr. Percy, as they reached a +bed of beautiful roses in full bloom. "Have you any flower-shows in +Canada? You ought to exhibit, Miss Costello."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia laughed. "What chance should I have? They say an amateur never can +compete with a professed gardener, and ours is all amateur work."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible? Do you mean to say that you do actually cultivate your +flowers with your own hands?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, with a little help from my friends." She was about to say +"from Maurice," but changed the phrase. "If you saw me at work here in +the mornings, you would at least give me credit for trying to cultivate +them."</p> + +<p>"Should I? You tempt me to take a peep into your Eden some morning when +you are gardening."</p> + +<p>"Pray don't," she answered, laughing. "The effects would be too +dreadful."</p> + +<p>"What would they be?"</p> + +<p>"The moment you caught sight of my working costume you would be seized +with such a horror of Backwoods manners and customs that you would fly, +not only from Cacouna, but from Canada, at the expense of I do not know +what business of State."</p> + +<p>"I wonder why you, and so many of your neighbours, seem to think of an +Englishman as if he were a fine lady. That has not generally been the +character of the race."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia felt inclined to say, "We do not think so of all Englishmen;" but +she held her tongue. Either intentionally, or by accident, Mr. Percy had +stood, during this short dialogue, in such a manner as to prevent her +from following Mrs. Bellairs when she turned back from the rose-bed; +and, in spite of her sauciness, she was too shy to make any effort to +pass. He moved a little now, and she had half escaped, when he said, "I +have not seen a really beautiful rose in Canada till now; may I have +one?"</p> + +<p>She was obliged to go back and gather one of her pet flowers for him; +then choosing another for Mrs. Bellairs, she carried it to her friend, +who, by this time had reached the pony-carriage, and was just taking her +seat.</p> + +<p>Lucia gave her the rose, and then remained standing by the little gate +until Bob's head was turned towards home, when his mistress suddenly +checked him.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Lucia," she called out, "I had nearly forgotten; will you give +Maurice a message for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if I see him," and for the first time in her life, Lucia blushed +at Maurice's name. But then Mr. Percy was looking at her.</p> + +<p>"'If you see him,'" laughed Mrs. Bellairs "tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> him, please, that I +want him to pay me a little visit to-morrow morning before he goes to +the office. Say that it is very important and will only detain him a few +minutes."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"Mind you don't forget. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"'Maurice,' 'Maurice,'" said Lucia, pettishly to herself. "It seems as +if there was no one in the world but Maurice."</p> + +<p>There was an odd coincidence at that moment between Lucia's thoughts and +Mr. Percy's; neither, however, said anything about them to their +companions.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was quietly knitting, when her daughter came slowly back, +up the steps of the verandah, but Lucia was too restless and +dissatisfied to sit down. She wanted something, and had not the least +idea what. At last, she began to think that staying at home all day had +made her feel so cross and uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, do come for a walk," she said, putting her arm round her mother. +"Come, I am tired of the house."</p> + +<p>"You are tired, darling, I believe. Remember how late you were last +night. But it is tea-time now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, what a nuisance! I can go out afterwards, though."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I dare say Maurice will walk with you."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I think I shall go to bed."</p> + +<p>"In the meantime sit down here and talk to me."</p> + +<p>She dropped down on the floor, and laid her head on her mother's lap.</p> + +<p>"Talk to me, mamma. Talk about England."</p> + +<p>An old, old theme. Mother and daughter had talked about England, the +far-away Mother Land, many many hours full of pleasure to both; to one +the subject had all the enchantment of a fairy tale, to the other of the +tenderest and sweetest recollections. Lucia had heard, over and over +again, each detail of the landscape, each incident in the history, of +her mother's birthplace; she knew the gentle invalid mistress and the +kind stern master, her grandfather and grandmother; she had loved to +gather into her garden the flowers which had grown about the grey walls +of the old house by the Dee; the one wish she had cherished from a child +was to see with living eyes all that was so familiar to her fancy. But +to-day, though she said, "Talk about England," it was not of all this +she wished to hear; and an instinctive feeling that it was not, kept +Mrs. Costello from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> speaking. She laid her hand gently upon her child's +head and remained silent. Lucia was silent, also. She wanted her mother +to talk, yet hesitated to ask her the questions she wanted answered. At +last she said abruptly,</p> + +<p>"Mamma, did you <i>ever</i> gossip?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello laughed.</p> + +<p>"Do you think I never do now, then? I am afraid I cannot say as much for +myself."</p> + +<p>"I never hear you. But when you were a girl, you must have heard things +about people."</p> + +<p>"No doubt I did. And I suppose that, as I lived in almost as quiet a +neighbourhood as this, I must have been curious and interested about a +new-comer, much as you are."</p> + +<p>Lucia turned her head a little, and smiled to herself.</p> + +<p>"And then?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Then most likely I asked questions, and found out all I could about the +new-comer, which, I suppose, you have been doing about Mr. Percy. Bella +Latour ought to be a good authority."</p> + +<p>"I have not asked any questions. I thought perhaps you might know +something about him, or at least about his family."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"About him I certainly know nothing. It is twenty years since I left +England, and he would then be only a child. His father I have seen two +or three times. Mr. Percy resembles him extremely."</p> + +<p>"Was he a handsome man, then?"</p> + +<p>"Very handsome. And Lady Lastingham was said to be a most beautiful +woman."</p> + +<p>"You never saw her?"</p> + +<p>"No, she died young. Lord Lastingham married her, as people said, for +love; that is to say, her great beauty tempted him. They were very poor, +and he was not of a character to bear poverty. She was good and amiable, +but he wearied of her, and scarcely pretended to feel her death as a +loss."</p> + +<p>"Oh! mamma, how could that be possible? if he married her for love?"</p> + +<p>"For what he called love, at least. There are men, my child, and perhaps +women also, whose only kind of love is a fancy, like a child's for a +toy. They see something which attracts them; they try their utmost to +obtain it. If they fail, they soon forget their disappointment; if they +succeed, they are delighted for the moment, until, the novelty having +worn off, they discover that they have paid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> too dearly for their +gratification, and throw aside their new possession in disgust."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello spoke earnestly, and with a kind of suppressed passion. It +seemed as if her words had an application beyond Lucia's knowledge; yet +they awed her strangely. Could they be true? Who then could be trusted? +for according to her mother's story, Lord Lastingham had not merely +deceived his wife, he had deceived himself also, with this counterfeit +love. She fell into a reverie, which lasted till the noise of cups and +saucers, as Margery brought in tea, put it to flight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>Two or three weeks passed. The inhabitants of Cacouna had grown +accustomed to the sight of Mr. Percy's tall figure, as he lounged from +his cousin's house to his office, or rode and drove with Mrs. Bellairs. +From different causes, the project of spending the day at the farm, as +well as some other schemes of amusement, had been deferred, and, with +one or two exceptions, all was going on as usual. The most notable of +these exceptions was in the life at the cottage, formerly so calm, so +regular, so smooth in its current. Now a change had crept over both +mother and daughter, and the very atmosphere of the house seemed to have +changed with them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>In Lucia, even a casual visitor would have remarked the difference. Her +beauty seemed suddenly to have burst from bud into blossom; her +childishness of manner had almost left her; her voice, especially in +singing, had grown more full and musical.</p> + +<p>In Mrs. Costello, the change was the reverse of all this. Mrs. Bellairs +and Maurice Leigh, the two people, who, except her daughter, loved her +best, grieved over her unrested, pallid face, and noticed that her soft +brown hair had more and more visible streaks of grey. They thought her +ill, and each had said so, but she answered so positively that nothing +was the matter, that they were unable to do more than seem to accept her +assurances. But to Lucia, when, with a tenderness which seemed to have +grown both deeper and more fitful, she would implore to be told the +cause of such evident suffering, Mrs. Costello gave a different answer.</p> + +<p>"I have told our friends the truth," she said; "I am not ill in body, +but a little anxious and disturbed in mind. Have patience for a while, +my darling, the time for you to share all my thoughts is, I fear, not +far distant."</p> + +<p>So Lucia waited, too full of life and happiness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> herself to be much +troubled even by the shadow resting on her mother, and growing daily +more absorbed in a strange new delight of her own—seeing all things +through a new medium, and filling her heart too full of the joy of the +present, to leave room in it for one grave fear of the future.</p> + +<p>Wonderful alchemy of the imagination, which can draw from a nature +ignoble, and altogether earthly, nourishment for dreams so sweet and so +sunny! Lucia's fancy had made for her a picture, such as most girls make +for themselves once in their lives, and the portrait was as unfaithful +as the original himself could have desired. Mr. Percy had become almost +a daily visitor at the Cottage. Attracted by Lucia's beauty, he came, as +he would have said, had he spoken frankly, to amuse himself during a +dull visit, with no thought but that of entertaining himself and her for +the moment. But, in fact, the magnet had more power over him than he +knew; he came, because, without a much stronger effort of self-denial +than was possible to him, he could not stay away. And though he thought +himself free, Lucia had in her heart an unacknowledged sense of power +over him; the old ability to torment, which she had so often exercised +on Maurice in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> mere girlish playfulness. Once or twice she had purposely +exerted this power over her new acquaintance, but not with her old +carelessness; too deeply interested in the question of how far it +extended, she used it with trembling as a dangerous instrument which +might fail, and wound her in its recoil. But as days passed on, and each +one brought him to the Cottage, or found Lucia with Mrs. Bellairs, and +therefore in his society, it began to seem incredible that his coming +was an event of only a few weeks ago; the past seemed to have receded, +and this present, so bright and perfect, to be all her life. Yet, in +truth, she had no notion of anatomizing her thoughts or feelings. They +had come to be largely, almost wholly occupied by a new inmate, but she +was simply content that it should be so, without once considering the +subject.</p> + +<p>One person, however, spent many bitter thoughts upon this recent change. +To Maurice Leigh every day had brought a more thorough knowledge of +Lucia's infatuation and of his own loss. He had loved her almost all his +life, and would love her faithfully now, and always; but he began to be +aware now, that he required more of her than the affection which he +could still claim; that he wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> her daily companionship; her sympathy +in all that interested him; her confidence with regard to all that +concerned herself. He wanted all this; but he could do without it: he +could love her and wait, if that were all. But what was hardest, nay, +almost unendurable, was the anticipation of her day of disenchantment, +when she must see the truth as he saw it now, and find herself thrown +aside to learn, in solitude and suffering, how blindly she had suffered +herself to be duped by a fair appearance. For, of course, Maurice was +unjust. Seeing Lucia daily as she grew up, he had no idea how much the +charm of her grace and beauty had influenced even him, and failed +utterly to estimate their effect upon others. He said to himself that +Mr. Percy was a mere selfish fop, who, tired of the amusements of Europe +and too effeminate for the hardier enjoyments of a new country, was +driven by mere emptiness of head to occupy himself with the pursuit of +the prettiest woman he met with.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Mr. Percy came and went, and found in his visits to the +Cottage an entirely new kind of distraction. It was strange to him to +find himself welcomed and valued, genuinely, if shyly, for his own sake. +He had known vulgar women, who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> flattered him because he was the son +of an earl; and prudent ones who gave him but a carefully measured +civility, because he was a portionless younger son. Here he knew that +both facts were absolutely nothing; and egotist as he was, this +knowledge stirred most powerfully such depths as his nature possessed. +In Lucia's presence he became almost as unworldly as herself; he gave +himself up half willingly, half unconsciously to the enjoyment of +feelings which no woman less thoroughly simple and natural could have +awakened; but, it is true that when he left her he left also this +strange region of sensations—he returned precisely to his former self.</p> + +<p>The only person, perhaps, who did him strict and complete justice was +Mrs. Costello. She, who had peculiar reasons for looking with +unspeakable terror upon the suitors whom her child's beauty was certain +to attract, had weighed each look, word, gesture—gleaned such knowledge +as she could of his life, past and present, and judged him at last with +an accuracy which her intense interest in the subject made almost +perfect. Over this result she both rejoiced and lamented; but for the +present the one idea most constantly and strongly present<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> to her was +that Lucia must pass by-and-by, only too soon, out of the sweet hopes +and dreams of girlhood, into the deep shadow which continually rested +upon her own heart. She knew how youth, which has never suffered, rebels +with passionate struggles against its first sorrows. She lived over and +over again in imagination her child's predestined trial.</p> + +<p>But away from the unquiet household at the Cottage, there was beginning +to be much gossip with regard to all these things, and many speculations +of the usual kind as to the issue of Mr. Percy's undisguised admiration +for the beauty of Cacouna. Bella Latour was questioned on all sides, and +finding the general thirst for information a source of considerable +amusement, she did not scruple to supply her friends with plenty of +materials for their comments. From Maurice Leigh, no such satisfaction +was to be obtained—the most inveterate news-seekers gained nothing from +him.</p> + +<p>A party of young people were collected one evening at Mrs. Scott's—a +house about a mile from Cacouna, in the opposite direction to the +Cottage. Lucia had been invited, but Maurice, who arrived late, had +brought a hasty note from her, excusing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> herself on the plea of her +mother's not being well. Little notice was taken at the time, for all +knew that Mrs. Costello had been looking ill lately, and it was +therefore probable enough that she might be too much indisposed for +Lucia to leave her. But later in the evening, when they were tired with +dancing, a group of girls began to chatter as they sat in a corner.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what is the matter with Mrs. Costello," said one. "Lucia seems +to me to go out very little lately."</p> + +<p>"She is better employed at home," replied another.</p> + +<p>"You should have brought Mr. Percy, Bella," said Magdalen Scott.</p> + +<p>"You did not invite him; and beside, I think we are better off without +him."</p> + +<p>"Why? Don't you like him?"</p> + +<p>"Tolerably well, but I am getting tired of him."</p> + +<p>"Tired of him already?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not like you, Magdalen; I could not be content to spend my life +looking at one person."</p> + +<p>Magdalen blushed a little, but answered rather sharply,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You mean to be an old maid, I suppose, then?"</p> + +<p>"I think I shall. At any rate, I should if I were to be always required +to be looking at or thinking about a man when I had married him."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Scott here called her daughter away, and May Anderson asked,</p> + +<p>"Why are you always teasing Magdalen so, Bella? She does not like it, I +am sure."</p> + +<p>"She should not be so stupid. Magdalen thinks her whole business in life +is to sit still and look pretty for her cousin Harry's benefit. I wish +she would wake up."</p> + +<p>"Harry is quite content seemingly. He told George that he thought her +prettier than Lucia Costello."</p> + +<p>"What idiots men are!" said Bella. "I don't believe they ever care about +anything except a pretty face; and they have not even eyes to see that +with."</p> + +<p>"They seem to see it well enough in some cases. I do not know what there +is in Lucia except her prettiness to attract them, and she never has any +want of admirers. There's Maurice Leigh perfectly miserable about her +this minute, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> Mr. Percy, they say, continually running after her."</p> + +<p>"My dear May, you need not trouble your head about Maurice Leigh; he is +quite able to take care of himself, and would not be at all obliged to +you for pitying him. As for Mr. Percy, the mere idea of his running +anywhere or after anything!"</p> + +<p>"Well, is not he perpetually at the Cottage?"</p> + +<p>"He was not there yesterday."</p> + +<p>"No, because Lucia was in Cacouna. I passed your house in the afternoon, +and saw them both in the garden."</p> + +<p>"They are both fond of flowers."</p> + +<p>"I hear he goes to help her to garden."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Percy help anybody!"</p> + +<p>"To hinder, then; I dare say Lucia finds it equally amusing."</p> + +<p>"Where is he this evening? Did he go with Mr. and Mrs. Bellairs?"</p> + +<p>"No. And I was afraid I should have to stay at home and do the honours; +but he had heard that I intended being here, and was polite enough to +insist on my coming. He was out when I left."</p> + +<p>"At the Cottage, of course. No wonder Lucia could not come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p>While her friends thus charitably judged her, Lucia was, in truth, +painfully and anxiously occupied by the illness of her mother. Mr. +Percy, aware of her engagement for the evening, had ridden over early in +the afternoon and spent an hour or two lounging beside her, at the piano +or on the verandah. At last, when it grew nearly time for her to start +for Mrs. Scott's, he rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Come into the garden for a minute," he said. "It is growing cool now, +and the air from the river is so pleasant."</p> + +<p>She obeyed, and they wandered down the garden together. But the minute +lengthened to twenty before they came back, and parted at the wicket. +Lucia went slowly up the steps, disinclined to go in out of the +sunshine, which suited her mood. Mrs. Costello had left her chair and +her work on the verandah and gone indoors. Lucia picked up a fallen +knitting-needle, and carried it into the parlour; but as she passed the +doorway she saw her mother sitting in her own low chair, her head fallen +forward, and her whole attitude strange and unnatural.</p> + +<p>Lucia uttered a cry of terror; she sprang to Mrs. Costello's side, and +tried to raise her, but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> inanimate figure slipped from her arms. She +called Margery, and together they lifted her mother and laid her on her +bed. The first inexpressible fear soon passed away—it was but a deep +fainting fit, which began to yield to their remedies. As soon as this +became evident, Lucia had time to wonder what could have caused so +sudden an illness. She remembered having seen a letter lying on the +table beside her mother, and the moment she could safely leave the +bedside she went in search of it. It was only an empty envelope, but as +she moved away her dress rustled against a paper on the floor, which she +picked up and found to be the letter itself. Without any other thought +than that her mother must have received a shock which this might +explain, she opened the half-folded sheet and hastily read the contents. +They were short, and in a hand she knew well—that of a clergyman who +was an old and trusted friend of Mrs. Costello. This was his letter:—</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">"My dear friend,</p> + +<p>"I was just about writing to say that I would obey your summons, and +steal two or three days next week from my work to visit you, when a +piece<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> of information reached me, which has caused me, for your sake, to +defer my journey. Perhaps you can guess what it is. You have too often +expressed your fears of C.'s return to be surprised at their fulfilment, +but I grieve to have to add to your anxieties at this moment by telling +you that he is really in this neighbourhood. I have not seen him, but +one of my people, Mary Wanita, who remembers you affectionately, brought +me the news. You may depend upon my guarding, with the utmost care, my +knowledge of your retreat; but I thought it best to prepare you for the +possibility of discovery, lest he should present himself unexpectedly to +you or to Lucia. If the matter on which you wished to consult me is one +that can be entrusted to a letter, write fully, and I will give you the +best advice I can; but send your letter to the post-office at Claremont, +on the American side, and I will myself call there for it. I shall also +post my letters to you there for the present.</p> + +<p>"With every good wish for you and for your child, believe me, sincerely +yours,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">A. Strafford.</span>"</p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">Lucia had looked for a solution of the mystery,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> but this letter was +none. Rather it was a new and bewildering problem. That it was the +immediate cause of her mother's illness was evident enough, but why? Who +was "C."? Why did she fear his return? What could be the fear strong +enough to induce such precautions for secrecy? Her senses seemed utterly +confused. But after the first few minutes, she remembered that Mrs. +Costello had probably meant to keep her still ignorant of a mystery to +which she had, in all the recollections of her life, no single clue—she +might therefore be still further agitated by knowing that she had read +this letter. "I must put it aside," she thought, "and not tell her until +she is well again."</p> + +<p>She slipped the letter into her pocket, scribbled her note to Mrs. +Scott, and returned to the invalid's room. The faintness had now quite +passed away, and Lucia thought, as she entered, that her mother's eyes +turned to her with a peculiar look of inquiry. Happily the room was +dark, so that the burning colour which rose to her cheeks was not +perceptible; for the rest, she contrived to banish all consciousness +from her voice, as she said quietly, "I have been writing to Mrs. Scott, +to say I cannot leave you to-night."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am sorry, dear; you would have enjoyed yourself, and there is no +reason to be anxious about me."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad I was not gone. Can you go to sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Presently. I think I dropped a letter—have you seen it?"</p> + +<p>Lucia drew it from her pocket. "It is here, I picked it up."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello held out her hand for it. She looked at it for a moment, +as if hesitating—then slipped it under her pillow.</p> + +<p>Both remained silent for some time; Mrs. Costello, exhausted and pale as +death, lay trying to gather strength for thought and endurance, longing, +yet dreading, to share with her daughter the miserable burden which was +pressing out her very life. Lucia, half hidden by the curtain, sat +pondering uselessly over the letter she had read; feeling a vague fear +and a livelier curiosity. But a heart so ignorant of sadness in itself, +and so filled at the moment with all that is least in accord with the +prosaic troubles of middle life, could not remain long fixed upon a +doubtful and uncomprehended misfortune. Gradually her fancy reverted to +brighter images; the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> sunny life of her short experience, the only life +she could believe in with a living faith, had its natural immutability +in her thoughts; and she unconsciously turned from the picture which had +been forced upon her—of her mother shrinking terrified from a calamity +about to involve them both—to the brighter one of her own happiness +which that dear mother could not help but share. So strangely apart were +the two who were nearest to each other.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was the first to rouse herself.</p> + +<p>"Light the lamp, dear," she said, "and let us have tea. I suppose I must +not get up again."</p> + +<p>"No indeed. I will bring my work in here and sit by you."</p> + +<p>"Will Maurice be here to-night?"</p> + +<p>"He is at the Scotts."</p> + +<p>"True, I forgot. We shall be alone, then?"</p> + +<p>It was a question; a month ago it would have been an assertion; and +Lucia answered, "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then we may arrange ourselves here without fear of interruption," Mrs. +Costello said more cheerfully. "Bring a book, instead of your work, and +read to me."</p> + +<p>She did not then intend to explain Mr. Strafford's letter. Lucia had +almost hoped it, but on the other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> hand she feared, as perhaps her +mother did, to renew the afternoon's excitement.</p> + +<p>So, after tea, she took the last new book and read. Mrs. Costello lay +with her face shaded; she had much to think of,—only old debatings with +herself to go over again for the thousandth time; but all her doubts, +her wishes, her fears quickened into new life by the threatened +discovery, of which the letter lying under her pillow had warned her; +and the changes which a multitude of recollections brought to her +countenance were not for her child, still ignorant of all the past, to +see.</p> + +<p>The evening passed quickly in this tumult of thoughts. Lucia was +interested in her story, and read on until ten o'clock, when Margery +came in.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Maurice, Miss Lucia. He came in at the back, just to ask how your +mamma is. Will you speak to him?"</p> + +<p>Lucia went out. Maurice was standing in the dark parlour, and she almost +ran against him. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder, as he asked +his question.</p> + +<p>"She is better, very much better," she answered. "But I was frightened +at first."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you think it is only a passing affair? Are you afraid to be alone +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Oh! Maurice, why do you ask such a question? She was quite +well this morning."</p> + +<p>"She has not looked well for some time. But I did not mean to alarm you, +only to remind you that if you should want anything, I am always close +at hand."</p> + +<p>He had alarmed her a little for the moment. She thought, "I have been +occupied with myself, and she has been ill perhaps for days past." +Maurice felt her tremble, and blamed himself for speaking. At that +instant they seemed to have returned to their old life. The very +attitude in which they stood, in which they had been used to have their +most confidential chats, had lately been disused; and to resume it, and +with it the old position of adviser and consoler, was compensation for +much that he had suffered. He felt that Lucia was looking anxiously up +at him—that she had for the moment quite forgotten all except her +mother and himself.</p> + +<p>"The weather has been so hot," he said, searching for something to hide +his thoughts, "it is not wonderful for any one to be weakened by it. No +doubt, that was the reason of Mrs. Costello's illness."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> Lucia +remembered the letter and was silent. Then she said, "Have you really +thought her looking ill lately?"</p> + +<p>"'Ill' is perhaps too strong a word. Besides, she has always said she +was well."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But I know she has been"—in trouble, she was going to say, but +stopped—"suffering."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you may be able to nurse her a little now, since she will be +obliged to own herself an invalid."</p> + +<p>"I shall try. Will you come in for a moment, in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Good night now. Do not be too anxious."</p> + +<p>He went out, glad at heart because of those few words of hers, which +showed how naturally she still depended on him, when help of any kind +was needed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had lain, during his visit, listening to the faint sound +of their voices, which just reached her through the half-open door of +her room.</p> + +<p>She turned her head restlessly as she listened. "If it could have been," +she thought, "he would have been the same to her through all—but the +other, how could I tell him even? Truly, I believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> he would forgive +crime, more readily than misery like mine. And I <i>must</i> tell her."</p> + +<p>Lucia came back softly into the room, and to the bedside; looking, with +her newly awakened fears, at her mother's face, she saw plainly how worn +it was; it seemed, in truth, to have grown years older in the last few +weeks. A pang of remorse shot through her heart; she stooped and kissed +her with unusual tenderness, and then turned away to hide the tears +which self-reproach had brought to her eyes. Mrs. Costello caught her +hand, and smiling, asked what news Maurice had brought?</p> + +<p>"None, mamma. He came to ask about you."</p> + +<p>"But had he nothing to tell you about the Scotts?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot to ask him, and I believe he forgot to tell me."</p> + +<p>"You must have been very much interested to forget such an event as a +party the moment it was over."</p> + +<p>"We were only talking about you. Maurice says you have been looking +ill."</p> + +<p>"Maurice is a foolish boy. I have been a little worried, but that is +all."</p> + +<p>Lucia gathered all her courage. "But, dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> mother, why do you always +give me that answer? Why not tell me what it is that troubles you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello shrank back. "Not yet, darling. I am a coward, and should +have to tell you a long story. Wait awhile."</p> + +<p>"And while I wait, you suffer alone."</p> + +<p>"I should not suffer less, my child, if you knew all. For your own sake +I have not yet shared my troubles, such as they are, with you; for your +own sake I see that I must soon do so. Leave me at present to decide, if +I can, what is best for us both."</p> + +<p>Lucia was silent. She saw that even this short conversation had +disturbed, instead of comforting her mother; she dared not therefore say +more, and could only busy herself in arranging everything with +affectionate care for her comfort during the night.</p> + +<p>Next morning when Maurice came, he was surprised to find Mrs. Costello +up, and looking as usual. Lucia's uneasiness had almost melted away in +the daylight; she was more gentle and attentive than usual to her +mother, but had persuaded herself that with her care, and, above all, +with her sympathy, when the promised "long story" should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> be told, all +would come right. She had still, however, enough need of sympathy to +make her manner to Maurice such as he liked best. He went away a second +time very happy, thinking, "She is but a child. If that fellow were but +gone she would soon forget him, and be herself again."</p> + +<p>But, alas! "that fellow" showed no intention of going. He came to the +Cottage an hour or two later, not however alone, but with Mrs. Bellairs +and Bella. The former came to see Mrs. Costello, the latter had affairs +of her own with Lucia. Mr. Percy, for once, was decidedly <i>de trop</i>, but +after awhile the two girls slipped away and shut themselves up in +Lucia's bedroom. The moment the door was closed, Bella burst into a +torrent of talk.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my dear, I was determined to come to you this morning, but I dare +say it was trouble thrown away. Have you any attention to spare from +your own affairs for your neighbours?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty. How did you enjoy yourself last night?"</p> + +<p>"You shall hear. It was a dull enough evening till the very end. There +was Maurice looking as black as thunder at May Anderson; and Magdalen +Scott and Harry—not flirting, they have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> not sense enough for that—but +making themselves ridiculous; and everybody else as usual."</p> + +<p>"Why was Maurice looking black at May?"</p> + +<p>"Because she was talking about you. It's not safe for anybody to talk +about you before Maurice, I can tell you. But <i>I</i> don't want to talk +about them, but about myself. Do you know what has happened?"</p> + +<p>"How should I till you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you might guess; but, I suppose, since Mr. Percy came, he has +prevented you from seeing anything beyond himself."</p> + +<p>"Don't be absurd, Bella; I can always see you, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"And yet you can't guess? Well, then, my dear, I have altered my mind."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"Only yesterday I meant to be an old maid, and now I don't."</p> + +<p>Lucia clapped her hands. "Oh, Bella! is it Doctor Morton?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. You see it would be more convenient for me in some ways +to be married; Elise and William might get tired of too much of my +society, and no doubt it will suit him very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> well to have a house +rent-free and a little money besides."</p> + +<p>"Don't, Bella, you are incorrigible. I should think you might leave off +joking now."</p> + +<p>"Not I, I assure you. I leave the sentimental side of the question to +you and Mr. Percy; though, to tell you the truth, I think you would be +much better off in that respect with Maurice, and his highflown notions, +which Elise calls chivalrous."</p> + +<p>Certainly Bella's manner agreed with her words—never was so important a +piece of news told by one girl to another, in so calm and business-like +a style. Lucia, rather given to romance herself, was puzzled and half +shocked.</p> + +<p>When the visitors were gone, she repeated what she had heard to her +mother, with wondering comments on a compact so coolly arranged, and was +rather surprised to find that Mrs. Costello completely approved of it.</p> + +<p>"I dare say," she said, "it may be a very happy marriage. Doctor Morton +is a sensible man, and Bella too honest a girl to marry him if she did +not mean to behave as he would like her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>And this, then, was her mother's idea of a happy marriage. Lucia +wondered still more, yet less than she would have done if she had known +how gladly Mrs. Costello would have seen her, also, safely bestowed in +the keeping of "a sensible man."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>At the time when Bella informed Lucia of her engagement, her +newly-accepted lover was having a long conversation with her +brother-in-law and guardian. There was no reason why the marriage once +arranged should be delayed; on the contrary, everybody was happily +agreed in the opinion that it might take place almost immediately. The +conference of the two gentlemen, therefore, passed readily into the +region of business, and chiefly concerned dollars and cents.</p> + +<p>Mr. Latour, the father of Mrs. Bellairs and Bella, had died rich; all +his property in hind, houses, and money was carefully divided between +the sisters; and as he had been dead less than two years, very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> slight +changes had taken place during Mr. Bellairs' guardianship. Bella spoke +reasonably enough when she said her fortune would be acceptable to +Doctor Morton. He made no secret of the fact that it would be very +acceptable, and Mr. Bellairs—though, for his own part, he would have +married his charming Elise with exactly the same eagerness if she had +been penniless—was too sensible to be at all displeased with his future +brother-in-law's clear and straightforward manner of treating so +important a subject. It is true that his brains and his diploma were +almost all the capital the young man had to bring on his side, but +these, had their acknowledged value, and, after all, Bella was very +nearly of age, and it would be rather a comfort to see her safely +disposed of, instead of having to give up her guardianship into her own +giddy keeping.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs' office was a small wooden-frame building containing two +rooms. In the outer one half-a-dozen budding lawyers, in various stages, +sat at their desks; the inner one, where the two gentlemen discussed +their arrangements, was small, and contained only a stove, a +writing-table, two chairs, and some cupboards. Mr. Bellairs sat at the +table<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> with a pile of papers before him: in the second chair—an easy +one—Doctor Morton lounged, and amused himself while he talked, by +tracing the pattern of the empty stove with the end of a small cane. He +was a good-looking young man, with very black eyes, and a small black +beard; of middle height and strongly built, and noted in Cacouna as the +boldest rider, the best swimmer, and one of the best shots, in the +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>A little stir, and a loud rough voice speaking in the outer office, was +followed by the entrance of a clerk.</p> + +<p>"Here is Clarkson, sir. Says he must see you."</p> + +<p>A shaggy head appeared over the clerk's shoulder, and the same rough +voice called out, "Just a minute, Mr. Bellairs; it's only a small matter +of business."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs went out, drawing the door together after him, and after a +few minutes dismissed the man, and came back.</p> + +<p>"That fellow may give you some trouble," he said as he sat down again.</p> + +<p>"Me? How?" asked the Doctor, surprised.</p> + +<p>"Some years ago, Mr. Latour bought a hundred acres of wild land on +Beaver Creek. He took no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> trouble about it, except what he was actually +obliged; never even saw it, I believe; and about a year before his +death, this Clarkson squatted on it, built a house, married, and took +his wife to live there. Mr. Latour heard of all this by chance, and went +to see if it were true. There, he found the fellow comfortably settled, +and expecting nothing less than to be turned out. The end of the matter, +for that time, was, that Clarkson promised to pay some few dollars rent, +and was left in possession. The rent, however, never was paid. Mr. +Latour died, and when his affairs came into my hands I tried again to +get it; threatened to turn Clarkson out, and pull down his house if he +did not pay, and certainly would have done it, but for Bella, to whom I +should tell you the land belongs. Mrs. Clarkson came into town, and went +to her with such a pitiful story that she persuaded me to wait. The +consequence is that nothing has been done yet, though I believe it is +altogether misplaced kindness to listen to their excuses."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt it is."</p> + +<p>"Clarkson is a great scamp, but I hear his wife is a very decent woman, +and naturally Bella was humbugged."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Naturally, yes. But I hope it is not too late to get rid of such +tenants, or make them pay?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather you undertook the task than I, except, of course, in the +way of business. Professionally, a lawyer has no tenderness for people +who can't pay."</p> + +<p>"And in what condition is the rest of the land?"</p> + +<p>"Much as it always was. The Indians are the only people who profit by it +at present; they hunt over it, and dry the fish they catch in the creek, +along the bank."</p> + +<p>"Yet, if it were cleared, it ought not to be a bad position. Where is it +on the creek?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs reached a map, and the two became absorbed in discussing +the probable advantages of turning out Clarkson and the Indians, and +clearing the farm on Beaver Creek.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs left his office earlier than usual that day, and found his +wife sitting alone in her little morning room. He took up a magazine +which lay on the table, and seated himself comfortably in an easy-chair +opposite to her.</p> + +<p>"Where's Bella?" he asked presently.</p> + +<p>"Upstairs, I believe. She and I have nearly quarrelled to-day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"About her marriage. I declare, William, I have no patience with her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs laughed. "An old complaint, my dear; but why?"</p> + +<p>"She is so matter-of-fact. I asked her, at last, what she was going to +marry for, and she told me coolly, for convenience."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs' indignation made her husband laugh still more. "They are +well matched," he said; "Morton is as cool as she is. He might be +Bluebeard proposing for his thirteenth wife."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>you</i> may like it, but I don't. If they care so little about each +other now, what will they do when they have been married as long as we +have?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Elise, you and I were born too soon. <i>We</i> never thought of +marrying for convenience; but as our ideas on the subject don't seem to +have changed much in ten years, perhaps theirs may not do so either. By +the way, where's Percy?"</p> + +<p>"That's another thing. I don't want to be inhospitable to your cousin, +but I do wish with all my heart that he was back in England."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs threw his magazine on the table. "Why, what on earth is the +matter with him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you know where he spends half his time?"</p> + +<p>"Not I. To tell the truth, his listless, dawdling way rather provokes +me, and I have not been sorry to see less of him lately."</p> + +<p>"He goes to the Cottage every day."</p> + +<p>"Does he? I should not have thought that an amusement much in his way."</p> + +<p>"You say yourself that Lucia is a wonderfully pretty girl."</p> + +<p>"Lucia? She is a child. You don't think that attracts him?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs was silent.</p> + +<p>"Elise, don't be absurd. You women are always fancying things of that +kind. A fellow like Percy is not so easily caught."</p> + +<p>"I hope to goodness I am only fancying, but I believe you would give +Mrs. Costello credit for some sense, and she is certainly uneasy."</p> + +<p>"Does she say so?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I know it; and Maurice and Lucia are not the same friends they +used to be."</p> + +<p>"Lucia must be an idiot if she can prefer Percy to Maurice; but most +girls do seem to be idiots."</p> + +<p>"In the meantime, what to do? I feel as if we were to blame."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We can't very well turn out my honourable cousin. I suspect the best +thing to do is to leave them alone. <i>He</i> will not forget to take care of +himself."</p> + +<p>"He? No fear. But it is of her I think. I should be sorry to see her +married to him, even if the Earl would consent."</p> + +<p>"It will never come to that. And, after all, you may be mistaken in +supposing there is anything more than a little flirtation."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs shook her head, but said no more. She knew by experience +that her husband would remember what he had heard, and take pains to +satisfy himself as to the cause of her anxiety. She had also (after ten +years of wedlock!) implicit faith in his power to do something, she did +not know what, to remedy whatever was wrong.</p> + +<p>That evening, when the whole family were assembled, the half-abandoned +scheme of passing a long day in the country was revived, and the time +finally settled. It was agreed that Doctor Morton, Lucia, and Maurice +should be the only persons invited; but when all the other arrangements +had been made, it appeared that Maurice had some particularly obstinate +engagement which refused to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> put off, and he was, therefore, of +necessity left behind.</p> + +<p>The morning fixed for the excursion proved breathlessly hot; the sky was +of one unvaried, dazzling, blue, and the waters of the river seemed to +rise above their banks, while every object, even houses and trees at a +considerable distance, was reflected in them with a clearness which +foretold stormy weather. A note from Mrs. Bellairs had prepared Lucia, +and she was standing on the verandah, dangling her hat in her hand, when +Mr. and Mrs. Bellairs drove up. She only stopped to give her mother a +last hasty kiss, and then ran out to meet them.</p> + +<p>The others had gone on, and were dawdling along the road, when Bob, at +his usual sober trot, turned out of the lane—Doctor Morton driving with +Bella, Mr. Percy on horseback. The party moved on leisurely, too hot to +think of a quicker movement, and, as was natural, Mr. Percy drew his +horse to the side of the phaeton where Lucia sat. A drive of three miles +brought them to the farm, where they left the horses in the care of a +servant, and walked across a wide, unenclosed space of green to the +house. It was a long, ugly building, with innumera<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>ble windows. The +walls were whitewashed, and glared out painfully in the sunshine; the +roof, window-frames, and doors painted a dull red; but the situation, +similar to that of Mrs. Costello's Cottage, was lovely, and a group of +fine trees standing just where the green bank began to slope down +abruptly to the river, gave a delicious shade to that side of the +building and to some seats placed under them. Mr. Latour, in letting the +house, had retained one room for his daughters, who were fond of the +place, and they still kept possession of it. Here they were to dine; for +the rest of the day, out of doors was much pleasanter than in.</p> + +<p>A boat and fishing-tackle were at hand, but it was too hot to fish; +after wandering about a little, they all sat down under the trees. Mrs. +Bellairs, Bella, and Lucia had some pretence of work in their hands; the +three gentlemen lounged on the grass near them. The farmer's children, +at play at the end of the house, occasionally darted out to peep at +them, and flew back again the moment they were perceived. Everything +else was still, even the leaves overhead did not move, and the silence +was so infectious that by degrees all talk ceased—each had his or her +own dreams for the moment. Bella and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> Doctor Morton, utterly unromantic +pair of lovers as they were, must have had some touch of the ordinary +softness of human nature; they looked content with all the world. Lucia, +leaning back with her crochet lying on her lap, and her eyes half hidden +by their black lashes, had yielded herself up entirely to the indolent +enjoyment of perfect stillness, forgetting even to be conscious of the +pair of handsome blue eyes which rested on her, taking in luxuriously +the charm of her beauty.</p> + +<p>When this pause had lasted a minute or two, a sudden glance passed +between Mr. and Mrs. Bellairs. His said, "I am afraid you were +right;"—hers, "What shall we do?" to which he replied by getting up, +and saying,</p> + +<p>"Are you all going to sleep, good people?"</p> + +<p>A reluctant stir, and change of position among the group, answered him.</p> + +<p>"What else can we do?" asked Bella. "It is too hot to move."</p> + +<p>"If you intend to go on the river to-day, it had better be soon," said +her brother-in-law. "There is every appearance of a storm coming on."</p> + +<p>"Not before we get home, I hope. But look, there is a canoe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>As she spoke, a small object came darting across the river. It +approached so fast, that in a minute or two they could distinguish +plainly that it was, in fact, a tiny bark canoe. One Indian woman, +seated at the end, seemed to be its only occupant; the repeated flashes +of sunlight on her paddle showed how quick and dexterous were its +movements as she steered straight for the landing in front of the +farmhouse.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Percy," said Mr. Bellairs; "I don't believe you have seen a +squaw yet. Get up and quote appropriate poetry on the occasion."</p> + +<p>"'Hiawatha' I suppose? I don't know any," and Mr. Percy rose lazily. +"She is an odd figure. How do you know it's a woman at all?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see the papoose lying in the canoe?"</p> + +<p>"Conclusive evidence, certainly; but upon my word the lady's costume is +not particularly feminine."</p> + +<p>They were all standing up now, watching the canoe which had drawn quite +near the bank. In a minute or two longer it touched the land, and the +woman rose. She was of small size, but rather squarely built; her long +jet black hair, without orna<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>ment or attempt at dressing, hung loosely +down over her shoulders; she wore mocassins of soft yellow leather +ornamented with beads; trousers of black cloth, with a border of the +same kind of work, reached her ankles; a cloth skirt, almost without +fulness, came a little below the knee, and was covered, to within three +or four inches of its edge, by an equally scanty one of red and white +cotton, with a kind of loose bodice and sleeves, attached to it; a +blanket, fastened round her shoulders in such a manner that it could be +drawn over her head like a monk's cowl, completed her dress. A little +brown baby, tightly swathed in an old shawl, lay at her feet, exposed, +seemingly without discomfort, to the hot glare of the sun. She stood a +moment, as if examining the house, and the group of figures in front of +it; then picked up her child, slipped it into the folds of her blanket, +so that it hung safely on her back, its black eyes peeping out over her +shoulders, took a bundle of mats from under the seat of her canoe, and +stepped on shore.</p> + +<p>As she came, with light firm steps, up the bank, not exactly approaching +them, but turning to the house-door, the party under the trees +separated; the gentlemen, attracted by the lightness and beauty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> of the +canoe, went down to the water's edge to look at it more closely. Bella +wanted to see the papoose, and perhaps to bargain with its mother for +some of her work; Mrs. Bellairs and Lucia remained alone, when the +former, turning to say something to her companion, was surprised to see +her pale, trembling, and looking ready to faint.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," she cried in alarm, "what is the matter, you are ill?"</p> + +<p>"Not ill, only stupid. Don't mind me. I shall be quite right again in a +minute." But her breath came in gasps, and her very lips were white.</p> + +<p>"Will you come in? Can you walk?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; it is nothing." By a strong effort she recovered herself a +little, and smiled. "Could anything be so absurd?"</p> + +<p>"What was it? I can't understand."</p> + +<p>"That poor woman. Is not it strange the sight of an Indian or a squaw +always throws me into a kind of panic. I am horribly frightened, and I +don't know why."</p> + +<p>"It is strange, certainly; what are you afraid of?"</p> + +<p>"Of nothing at all. I cannot think why I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> feel so, but I always +have. Indeed I try not to be so foolish."</p> + +<p>"I can't scold you for it at present, for you really frightened me, and +you are generally fearless enough."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad there was no one but you here. Please do not tell +anybody."</p> + +<p>"But do you know, child, that you are still as pale as ever you can be? +And they are coming back from the river. Your enemy is out of sight now; +let us walk up to the house."</p> + +<p>They put on their hats, and walked slowly up the sunny slope; but as +they came upon the level space in front of the house, the squaw, who had +been bargaining with the farmer's wife at a side door, came round the +corner and met them face to face. She paused a moment, and then walked +straight up to the two ladies, holding out her mats as an invitation to +them to buy. Lucia shrank back, and Mrs. Bellairs afraid, from her +previous alarm, that she really would faint, motioned hastily to the +woman to go away. But she seemed in no hurry to obey; repeating in a +monotonous tone, "Buy, buy," she stood still, fixing her eyes upon Lucia +with a keen look of inquiry. The poor child, terrified, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> ashamed of +being so, made an uncertain movement towards the door, when the squaw +suddenly laid her hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>"Where live?" she said, in broken English.</p> + +<p>"Go, go!" cried Mrs. Bellairs impatiently. "We have nothing for you;" +and taking Lucia's arm, she drew her into their sitting-room, and shut +the door.</p> + +<p>"Lie down on the sofa;" she said, "what could the woman mean? You must +have an opposite effect on her to what she has on you. But you need not +fear any more; she is going down to her canoe."</p> + +<p>By degrees, Lucia's panic subsided, her colour came back, and she +regained courage to go out and meet the others. They found that Doctor +Morton and Bella had strolled away along the shore, while the other two +were occupied in discussing Indian customs and modes of life, their +conversation having started from the bark canoe. The two ladies took +their work, and remained quiet listeners, until a rough-looking, untidy +servant-girl came to tell them dinner was ready.</p> + +<p>Fish caught that morning, and fowls killed since the arrival of the +party, were on the table; the untidy servant had been commissioned by +her mistress to wait, which she did by sitting down and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> looking on with +great interest while dinner proceeded. It was not a particularly +satisfactory meal in its earlier stages, but all deficiencies were +atoned for by the appearance of a huge dish of delicious wild +raspberries, and a large jug of cream, which formed the second course.</p> + +<p>As soon as dinner was over, the boat was brought out, and they spent an +hour or two on the river; but the weather had already begun to change, +and, to avoid the approaching storm, they were obliged to leave the farm +much earlier than they had intended, and hasten towards home. When they +approached the Cottage, Lucia begged to be set down, that her friends +might not be hindered by turning out of their way to take her quite +home; Mr. Bellairs drew up, therefore, at the end of the lane, and Lucia +sprang out. Mr. Percy, however, insisted on going with her. He +dismounted and led his horse beside her.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will be wet," she said; "you forget that I am a Canadian +girl, and quite used to running about by myself."</p> + +<p>"That may be very well," he answered, "when you have no one at your +disposal for an escort, but at present the case is different."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>She blushed a little and smiled. "In England would people be shocked at +my going wherever I please alone?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I believe I am forgetting England and everything about +it. Do you know that I ought to be there now?"</p> + +<p>"Ought? that is a very serious word. But you are not going yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not just yet. Miss Costello, your mother is an Englishwoman, why don't +you persuade her to bring you to England."</p> + +<p>"My mother will never go to England." Lucia repeated the words slowly +like a lesson learned by rote; and as she did so, an old question rose +again in her mind,—why not?</p> + +<p>"Yet you long to go—you have told me so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh! I do long to go. It seems to me like Fairyland."</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Percy's turn to smile now. "Not much like Fairyland," he +answered; "not half so much like it as your own Canada."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I shall see it some day, but then alone. Without mamma, I +should not care half so much."</p> + +<p>"Are you still so much a child? 'Without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> mamma' would be no great +deprivation to most young ladies."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand that. But then we have always been together; we +could hardly live apart."</p> + +<p>"Not even if you had—Doctor Morton for instance, to take care of you?"</p> + +<p>Lucia laughed heartily at the idea, and Mr. Percy laughed too, though +his sentence had begun seriously enough. They were now at the gate, he +bade her good-bye, and springing on his horse, went away at a pace which +was meant to carry off a considerable amount of irritation against +himself. "I had nearly made a pretty fool of myself," he soliloquised. +"It is quite time I went away from here. But what a sweet little piece +of innocence she is, and so lovely! I do not believe anything more +perfect ever was created. Pshaw! who would have thought of <i>my</i> turning +sentimental?"</p> + +<p>As Lucia turned from the gate, Margery put her head round the corner of +the house, and beckoned.</p> + +<p>"Your ma's lying down, Miss Lucia,—at least I guess so,—and she +doesn't expect you yet, and I've something to tell you."</p> + +<p>Lucia went into the kitchen and sat down. She was feeling tired after +the heat of the day, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> excitement of her alarm, and expected only +to hear some tale of household matters. But to her surprise Margery +began, "There've been a squaw here to-day, and, you know, they don't +come much about Cacouna, thank goodness, nasty brown things—but this +one, she came with her mats and rubbish, in a canoe, to be sure. Your +ma, she was out, and I caught sight of something coming up the bank +towards the house, so I went out on the verandah to see. As soon as she +saw me, she held up her mats and says, 'Buy, buy, buy,' making believe +she knew no more English than that, but I told her we wanted none of her +goods, and then she said, 'Missis at home?' I told her no, and she said +'Where?' as impudent as possible. I told her that was none of her +business, and she'd better go; but instead of that, she took hold of my +gown, and she said "Lucia" as plain as possible. I do declare, Miss +Lucia, I did not know what to make of her, for how she should come to +know your name was queer anyhow; but I just said, Mrs. Costello is not +in, nor Miss Lucia neither, so you'd better be off; and she nodded her +head a lot of times, and seemed as if she were considering whether to go +or not. I asked her what she wanted, but she would not tell me, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +after awhile she went off again in her canoe as fast as if she was going +express."</p> + +<p>Lucia was thoroughly startled by this story. Mr. Strafford's letter came +to her mind, and connected itself with the singular look and manner of +the squaw, at the farm. This could not certainly be the mysterious "C." +of the letter, for Mr. Strafford said "<i>he</i> is in the neighbourhood," +but it might be Mary Wanita, who had apparently given the first friendly +warning, and might possibly have come to Cacouna for the purpose of +giving a second, and more urgent one.</p> + +<p>"Where was mamma?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Gone in to see Mr. Leigh," Margery answered; "he is quite sick to-day, +and Mr. Maurice came to ask your mamma to go and sit with him awhile."</p> + +<p>"Did you tell her about this squaw?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, Miss Lucia, I had a kind of guess it was better not. You see +she is not very strong, and I thought you could tell her when you came +if you thought it was any use."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Margery, you were quite right."</p> + +<p>Lucia went in slowly, thinking the matter over. It did not, however, +appear to her advisable to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> conceal from her mother the squaw's +visit—it might have greater significance than she, knowing so little, +could imagine—but she wished extremely that she possessed some gauge by +which to measure beforehand the degree of agitation her news was likely +to produce. She had none, however, and could devise no better plan than +that of telling Mrs. Costello, quite simply, what she had just heard +from Margery.</p> + +<p>As she opened the door of the parlour, Mrs. Costello half rose from the +sofa, where she was lying.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, darling," she asked, "so soon?"</p> + +<p>"There is a storm coming on," Lucia answered; "we hurried home to escape +it."</p> + +<p>"And you have had a pleasant day?"</p> + +<p>"Very pleasant. You have been out, too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; poor Mr. Leigh is quite an invalid, and complains that he never +sees you now."</p> + +<p>"I will go to-morrow," Lucia said hastily, and then, glad to escape from +the subject, asked if her mother had seen an Indian woman about?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello answered no, but Lucia felt her start, and went on to +repeat, in as unconcerned a tone as possible, Margery's story; but when +she said that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> her own name had been mentioned, her mother stopped her.</p> + +<p>"Was the woman a stranger? Have you ever seen her?"</p> + +<p>"She was a stranger to Margery certainly. I think I saw her to-day."</p> + +<p>"Where? Tell me all you know of her."</p> + +<p>Lucia described the squaw's appearance at the farm.</p> + +<p>"It must be Mary," Mrs. Costello said half to herself. "What shall I do? +How escape?"</p> + +<p>She rose from the sofa and walked with hurried steps up and down the +room. Lucia watched her in miserable perplexity till she suddenly +stopped.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" she asked. "Did she go away?"</p> + +<p>Lucia finished her account, and when she had done so, Mrs. Costello came +back to the sofa and sat down. She put her arm round her daughter, and +drawing her close to her, she said, "You are a good child, Lucia, for +you ask no questions, though you may well think your mother ought to +trust you. Be patient only a little longer, till I have thought all +over. Perhaps we shall be obliged to go away. I cannot tell."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Away from Cacouna, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Away from Cacouna and from Canada. Away from all you love—can you bear +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—with you;" but the first pang of parting came with those words.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>"Away from all you love!" The words haunted Lucia after she lay down in +her little white bed that night. There, in the midst of every object +familiar to her through all her life, surrounded by the perfect +atmosphere of home, she repeated, with wondering trouble, the threat +that had come to her. When at last she slept, these words, and the pale +face of her mother bending over her as she closed her eyes, mixed +themselves with her dreams. At last, she fancied that a violent storm +had come on in the very noon of a brilliant summer day. She herself, her +mother, Percy and Maurice seemed to be standing on the river bank +watching how the sky darkened, and the water rose in great waves at +their feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> Suddenly a canoe appeared, and in it a hideous old squaw, +who approached the shore, and stretching out a long bony hand drew her +away from her mother's side, and in spite of her terror made her step +into the frail boat, which instantly flew down the stream into the +darkest and wildest of the storm. She stretched out her arms for +help—Percy stood still upon the bank, as if anxious but unable to give +it—Maurice waved his hand to her, and turned away. She seemed to know +that he was deserting her for ever, and in an agony of fear and sorrow +she gathered all her strength to call him back. The effort woke her. She +lay trembling, with tears of agitation pouring from her eyes, while the +storm which had mingled with her dream raged furiously round the +Cottage.</p> + +<p>Morning came at last, dim and dreary. The wind subsided at dawn, but the +sky was full of torn and jagged clouds, carried hither and thither by +its varying currents. All over the ground lay broken flowers and sprays +torn from the trees, the vine had been loosened in several places from +its fastenings and hung disconsolately over the verandah—all looked +ravaged and desolate, as Lucia pressed her hot cheek against the +rain-covered window, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> tried to shake off the misery—still new to +her—which belongs to the early morning after a restless, fevered night. +But as the sun rose bright and warm, her spirits naturally revived; she +dressed early, and went out into the garden, intent upon remedying as +far as possible the mischief that had been done, before her mother +should see it; and accustomed as she was to work among her much-beloved +plants, the task was soon making quick progress. But among her roses, +the most valued of all her flowers, a new discouragement awaited her. +One beautiful tree, the finest of all, which yesterday had been splendid +in the glory of its late blossoms, had been torn up by the wind, and +flung down battered and half covered with sand at a little distance from +the bed where it had grown. The sight of this misfortune seemed to Lucia +almost more than she could bear; she sat down upon a garden-seat close +by, and looked at her poor rose-tree as if its fate were to be a type of +her own. She recollected a thousand trifles connected with it; how she +had disputed with Mr. Percy about its beauty, arguing that it was less +perfect than some others, because he had said it was more so; she +remembered how from that very tree she had gathered a blossom for him +the first day he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> came to the Cottage. Then, in her fanciful mood, she +reproached herself for letting her unfortunate favourite speak to her +only of him, and forgetting that it was Maurice who had obtained it for +her, who had planted it, and would be sorry for its destruction. She +rose, and tried to lift the broken tree; but as she leaned over it, +Maurice himself passed through the wicket, and came towards her. She +turned to meet him as if it were quite natural that he should come just +then.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maurice, look! I am so sorry."</p> + +<p>"Your pet rose-tree? But perhaps it will recover yet."</p> + +<p>He raised it carefully, while she stood looking on.</p> + +<p>"It is not much broken, after all. I will plant it again; and with +plenty of support and shade, I think it will do."</p> + +<p>Lucia flew to bring her spade. She held the tree, while Maurice +carefully arranged its roots and piled the earth about them; the +scattered leaves were picked up from the bed, and a kind of tent made +with matting over the invalid; at last she found time to say,</p> + +<p>"But how did you happen to come just at the right moment?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I saw you from my window. I noticed that you were very busy for awhile, +and when you stopped working and sat down in that disconsolate attitude, +I guessed some terrible misfortune must have happened. So I came."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked at him gravely, a little troubled.</p> + +<p>"I never saw anybody like you," she said; "you seem always to know when +one is in a dilemma."</p> + +<p>Maurice laughed.</p> + +<p>"If all dilemmas were like this, I might easily get up a character for +being a sort of Providence; but come and show me what else there is to +do."</p> + +<p>They worked together for an hour, by the end of which, all was restored +nearly to its former neatness. Mrs. Costello came out and found them +busy at the vine. Maurice was on a ladder nailing it up, while Lucia +handed him the nails and strips of cloth, as he wanted them. She felt a +lively pleasure in seeing them thus occupied. Maurice was too dear to +her, for her not to have seen how Lucia's recent and gradual +estrangement had troubled him; for his sake, therefore, as well as for +her own and her child's, she had grieved daily over what she dared not +interfere to prevent,—the breaking up of old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> habits, and the +intervention between these two of an influence she dreaded. The +experience of her own life had convinced her, rightly or wrongly, that +it was worse than useless for parents to try to control their children's +inclinations in the most important point where inclination ever ought to +be made the rule of conduct. But for years she had hoped that Lucia's +affection for Maurice would grow, unchecked and untroubled, till it +attained that perfection which she thought the beau ideal of married +love; and even now, she held tenaciously to such fragments of her old +hope as still remained. This morning, after a night of the most painful +anxiety and foreboding, her mind naturally caught at the idea that <i>all</i> +could not go wrong with her; that she must have exaggerated the change +in Lucia, and that, at least, some of the trouble she had anticipated +for her child was a mere chimera.</p> + +<p>She came out to them, therefore, pale and weary from her vigil, but +cheerful and composed.</p> + +<p>"How is your father, Maurice?" she asked; "can you stay with us to +breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, no; my father is so much alone. He seemed better last night. +Your visit did him good."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am glad of that. Lucia will go over to-day and stay with him for a +while."</p> + +<p>"Will she? He says she never comes to see him now."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will," said Lucia, with a little remorse in her tone. "I will +go and read the newspaper straight through to him, from one end to the +other."</p> + +<p>"Poor Lucia! What a sacrifice to friendship," answered Maurice laughing. +"But to reward you, Blackwood arrived last night, and you will find the +new chapter of your favourite story."</p> + +<p>Soon after ten o'clock Lucia put on her hat, and, strong in her good +resolutions, went along the lane to Mr. Leigh's. She lifted the latch +rather timidly, and peeped in. From the tiny entrance she could see into +the large square sitting-room, so tidy and so bare, from which the last +trace of feminine occupation had passed away three years ago, when Alice +Leigh, her old playfellow, died. There, in his high-backed chair, sat +the solitary old man, prematurely old, worn out by labour and sorrow +before his time. He turned his head at the sound of her entrance, and +held out his hand, with a smile of welcome.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My child, what a stranger you have grown!"</p> + +<p>She came forward with a tender thrill of pity and affection.</p> + +<p>"And you have been ill?" she said; "why did not you tell Maurice you +wanted me?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, now. There is your own chair; sit down and tell me all your +news."</p> + +<p>She brought her chair to his side, and began to talk to him. How many +happy hours she had spent in this room! Long ago, when she could first +remember, when her mother and Mrs. Leigh had been dear friends; later, +when there were yet others left of the ever-diminishing circle; later +still, when Alice and Maurice were her daily companions; and even since, +when she herself seemed to be, in the quiet household, the only +representative of the daughters and sisters passed away. She felt that +she had been selfish lately, and began to reproach herself the more +strongly as she saw how affectionately she was still welcomed.</p> + +<p>She told all the little scraps of news she could think of; she arranged +on the mantelpiece some flowers she had brought in; finally, she found +the new Blackwood, and entertained both her old friend and herself so +well with it that two hours passed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> almost unperceived. Mr. Leigh's old +servant, coming in with his early dinner, interrupted them in the middle +of an interesting article, and reminded her that it was high time to go +home.</p> + +<p>"I will come again to-morrow," she said, as she put aside her book, and +taking up her hat she hurried away.</p> + +<p>As she walked up the lane, she could not help feeling a certain anxiety +to know whether there had been any visitors at home during her absence. +Mr. Percy often came in the morning, and if he had been there—</p> + +<p>She ran up the verandah steps and into the parlour. Mrs. Costello sat +there alone, and two letters lay on the table.</p> + +<p>"Here is a note for you," she said, as Lucia came in. "Mr. Percy brought +it."</p> + +<p>"He has been here, then?" and she took up the note, not much caring to +open it when she saw Bella's writing.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He came very soon after you were gone. He said he was coming to +say good-bye, and Bella asked him to bring that."</p> + +<p>"To say good-bye?"</p> + +<p>Lucia felt the colour fade out of her cheeks. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> held the note in a +tight grasp to keep her hand from trembling, and sat down.</p> + +<p>"He and Mr. Bellairs are going up the Lakes. They will be back, I +imagine, in a week or two. Perhaps, Bella tells you more."</p> + +<p>In fact, Mr. Percy had been annoyed at not finding Lucia, and slightly +discontented at being drawn into an excursion which would take him away +from Cacouna. Only a small time yet remained before he <i>must</i> return to +England, and he had been sufficiently conscious that Mrs. Costello would +not regret his departure, to be very uncommunicative on the subject. +Bella, however, was much more explicit.</p> + +<p>"My dear Lucia," she said, "shall you be much surprised to hear that +these good people have arranged for a certain wedding, in which both you +and I are interested, to take place on the first of next month; that is, +not quite three weeks from to-day? How I am to be ready I do not know; +but as you are to be bridesmaid, I implore you to come to me either this +evening or to-morrow, that we may arrange about the dresses and so on. +Is not it a mercy? William has taken into his head that he is obliged to +go up the Lakes to Sault Ste.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> Marie, in the interest of some client or +other, and has persuaded his cousin to go with him, so that Elise and I +will be left in peace for our last few weeks together. They are to be +back about the 26th, and I have done all I could to make Doctor Morton +go with them, but he says if he does, the house will not be ready, so, I +suppose, he must stay. They start by this evening's boat, and as the +dearly beloved cousin is sure to go to see you first, I shall ask him to +take my note. Entre nous, I don't believe he is particularly anxious to +go. And you? I expect every time I come near the Cottage, I shall hear +you singing your mother's favourite song:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Alas! I scarce can go or creep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now Lubin is away.'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Lubin! What a name! Mind you come, whatever else you do. Think of the +importance of the subject. Dresses, my dear, wedding-dresses!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">"Ever yours,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;" class="smcap">"Bella."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">Lucia read Bella's effusion hastily through, and gave it to her mother. +Mrs. Costello laughed as she finished it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When will you go on this important errand?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh! not to-day, mamma, I am tired, and they don't really want me. I +shall stay with you this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I have been writing to Mr. Strafford," Mrs. Costello said after a +pause. "Some time ago I asked him to come up and see us; he could not do +so then, but I hope now to be able to persuade him. I think, too, that +the squaw who was here yesterday may be one of his people. Formerly I +knew something of many of them; that might account for her coming. I +have told him of it, and will do nothing until I receive his answer."</p> + +<p>Lucia was silent; she longed to say something, but the conviction that +her mother was quite decided in her reticence on the subject of the +mystery, which was clearly so painful a one, restrained her. They dined, +and spent the afternoon together without any further allusion to the +subject; and Lucia was thankful to perceive that her mother's +tranquillity seemed to have been far less disturbed by this second alarm +than it had been by the first.</p> + +<p>In the evening, quite late, Maurice came in. He said his father was much +better. Lucia's long visit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> had cheered him and done him good, and he +hoped in a day or two to be able to get out a little. Lucia was very +quiet during Maurice's stay; it would not have been easy to say whether +she was happy or sorrowful. She sat in her low chair and thought of +yesterday, of the night and her dream, of old Mr. Leigh sitting alone in +his dreary house so many hours each day, of his pleasure at seeing her, +of Mr. Percy's absence; finally, of the comfort and pleasantness of +sitting there undisturbed and hearing the voices of her mother and +Maurice gradually subsiding into a drowsy hum. The next thing she knew +Maurice was saying softly, "She is asleep. Don't wake her, Mrs. +Costello. Good-night." And she woke just in time to catch the last +glimpse of his figure as he went out.</p> + +<p>The next day's consultation with Bella about dresses was only the first +of many, in which the arrangements for the wedding were completely +settled. Lucia and Magdalen Scott were to be bridesmaids; Harry Scott +and Maurice, groomsmen; and the ceremony was to take place in the house, +according to a whim of the bride, who did not choose to exhibit her own +and her friends' pretty dresses in the church—"a great ugly barn."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia had also a daily visit to Mr. Leigh to occupy her. He was +recovering from his slight attack of illness, and enjoyed her lively +talk and affectionate care. One day he even let her persuade him to +walk, with her assistance, as far as the Cottage; and when she had +established him in the most comfortable chair beside her mother, he was +so content with the change that Maurice, coming home from Cacouna, was +met by the unheard-of announcement, "Mr. Leigh is out."</p> + +<p>He followed the truant, and found him in no hurry to return. The two +elder people, indeed, both enjoyed this visit, which seemed to carry +them back to a time brighter than the present. They talked of trifles, +but of trifles which were in a kind of harmony with the happier days of +both. Lucia, sitting at the door, where she could see the sunny +landscape and the river, listened idly to their talk, but mixed it with +her own girlish fancies; while near to her Maurice sat down, glad of the +homelike rest of the moment, glad of the friendly look of welcome with +which she met him; knowing distinctly that if at that moment he had +asked her for anything more than friendship, she would have been shocked +and distressed, but willing to enjoy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> to the utmost all the happiness +her present and grateful regard could give him. Not that he was content; +an unspeakable longing to get rid of all this veil of reserve, to make +her understand what she was so blind to, to carry her off from all the +frivolities which came between them, and make her love him as he thought +she might love, lay deep down in his heart and swelled up, at times +almost uncontrollably. But she never guessed it, and never should, +unless, perhaps, time should bring her a harder discipline than his. +Then, if ever she came to want love, to want happiness, it would be his +opportunity; at present, he could still wait.</p> + +<p>This evening might well be one of enjoyment. It was the last that those +four were ever to spend together at the Cottage. Nearly a fortnight had +passed since Mr. Bellairs and his cousin had started for Sault Ste. +Marie, and they were expected back in a day or two. The preparations for +Bella's marriage were almost completed, and Lucia was looking forward +with a pleasant flutter of excitement to her own appearance as +bridesmaid. Mrs. Costello's letter to Mr. Strafford remained unanswered, +but from the circuitous route by which their communication now took +place that was not wonder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>ful; rather, indeed, the fact of having heard +nothing from him seemed reassuring, and in the interval, no further +incident had occurred to disturb her tranquillity. Thus the hours that +Maurice and his father spent together at the Cottage were, to the whole +party, hours of a certain calm and peace, pleasant to recollect after +the calm had been broken.</p> + +<p>The next day Lucia spent almost entirely at Mrs. Bellairs'. Bella drove +her home in the evening, and when she came in she found Maurice alone on +the verandah. It was quite dusk, very nearly dark—a soft, still, dewy +evening, and she could but just distinguish his figure as he moved, to +meet her.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, Maurice?" she said. "Is mamma there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and no," he answered; "Mrs. Costello is just gone in."</p> + +<p>"How is Mr. Leigh? I have not seen him to-day."</p> + +<p>"No; I have been at home most of the day."</p> + +<p>"Is he worse then?" she said, alarmed.</p> + +<p>"He is not quite so well, but nothing serious. Are you tired?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, not at all. Something is the matter, Maurice. I can hear it in your +voice."</p> + +<p>"Nothing is the matter, I assure you. Something unexpected has happened, +but only to my father and me, and I want to talk to you about it. That +is all."</p> + +<p>"Something unexpected? What?"</p> + +<p>"Come down to the river side; it is quiet there and cool."</p> + +<p>They went down together; it was growing very dark, and the turf on the +bank was soft and uneven. Lucia put her hand through Maurice's arm with +her old childlike familiarity, and said,</p> + +<p>"Why do you excite my curiosity if you don't mean to satisfy it, you +tiresome Maurice?"</p> + +<p>"Are you in such a hurry to hear my news, then? I feel in no such haste +to tell it. Look, do you see those lights on the river?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. How quickly they move! What are they?"</p> + +<p>"What we very seldom see here. They are the lights Indians use in +spearing fish."</p> + +<p>"Indians!"</p> + +<p>Lucia's voice was faint, and she clung to Maurice's arm. Surprised to +feel her trembling, he said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> "I intended a night or two ago to tell you +to look out for them. Surely, you are not afraid of an Indian?"</p> + +<p>"I am a little," she answered, trying to overcome her terror. "But where +do these come from?"</p> + +<p>"You know the saw-mill at the other end of the town, beyond Mr. Bayne's? +There are three or four Indians at work there, and they go out sometimes +at night to fish."</p> + +<p>The two lights, which had been but just visible when they first came +out, flitting here and there through the darkness, had now approached +much nearer, so that the canoes could be plainly distinguished. They +were quite small, and each contained two men, one sitting down in the +stern, a dark undefined shadow, scarcely seen except for the occasional +flash of his paddle in the light; the other standing at the prow in the +full glare of the fire which burned there, and lit up his wild +half-naked figure and the long fish-spear in his hand. As the canoe +moved from place to place, they could see the spear dart swiftly into +the water, and the sparkle of wet scales as the fish was brought up and +thrown into the boat.</p> + +<p>Lucia's terror had at first overpowered her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> curiosity, and as it +subsided, she was, for a minute or two, too much interested in the novel +sight to renew her questions. As for Maurice, he was, as he had said, in +no haste to speak.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant to have her for a little while all to himself, pleasant +to feel her hand resting more closely on his arm as if he could protect +her, even from her own foolish fear, and all was the sweeter, because it +might be for the last time. At last, however, she said again,</p> + +<p>"But tell me what you were going to. What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"One thing that has happened," he replied, rousing himself, "is that I +have heard more family history than I knew before. Do you care to hear +that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I should like to if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know that my father and mother came out here from England +many years ago, directly after their marriage. This marriage, it +appears, was disapproved of by my mother's family—was a runaway match, +indeed, and never forgiven even to the time of her death."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Maurice! and were her father and mother alive?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Her father was, and still is. She was an only daughter, with but one +brother; and my grandfather, who is a Norfolk gentleman of large +property, expected her, reasonably enough, to marry a man who was her +equal in fortune. However, she chose to marry my father, who was then a +soldier, a poor lieutenant, with little money, and equally little +prospect of rising. I don't know whether women are very wise or very +foolish, Lucia, but they seem to see things with different eyes to men. +My mother chose to marry, then, though my father was poor, and certain +to remain so; though she was a gay spoiled girl of just twenty-one, and +he a grave man not much under forty. He sold out, and they came here. I +don't believe she ever was unhappy, or repented her marriage, and my +father while she lived had all he cared for; since her death, indeed, +there has been sorrow after sorrow."</p> + +<p>Maurice stopped a moment.</p> + +<p>"But you know all that," he said hastily, and went on. "My mother wrote +several times to her father and to her brother, first after her arrival +in Canada, then after the birth of her eldest child, and last of all +just before she died; but no answer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> ever came. After her death my +father, as she wished, wrote again, but until this morning he had heard +nothing from my grandfather for all these six-and-twenty years."</p> + +<p>"You have heard, then, at last?"</p> + +<p>"At last. This morning a letter came. It is a pitiful one to read. My +grandfather is, as you may suppose, a very old man; he is ill and alone, +and begins to repent, I think, of his harshness to my mother."</p> + +<p>"But why is he alone? You said he had a son."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he is dead. He died six months ago, and left but one child, a +daughter, who is married and has no children."</p> + +<p>"No children? and your grandfather is very rich?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so."</p> + +<p>"But you are his heir, then? Is that it?"</p> + +<p>"He says so, or rather, he says my mother's eldest son is his heir. He +knows nothing of me individually."</p> + +<p>"And you are the only one left? Ah, Maurice, if Alice even had been +alive!"</p> + +<p>Maurice sighed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If poor Herbert had been alive, how gladly I would have left the +heirship to him!"</p> + +<p>"But why? I think that is foolish. It is a good thing to be rich. It +will be a good thing for you, because you are good."</p> + +<p>Maurice laughed.</p> + +<p>"Your flattery, Lucia, will not reconcile me to my fate. You have not +yet heard all."</p> + +<p>"What else? Is Mr. Leigh pleased?"</p> + +<p>"Not more than I am. My grandfather wants to see his heir."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that he wants you to go to England?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And my father consents."</p> + +<p>"But not yet?"</p> + +<p>"At once. To sail from New York on Saturday."</p> + +<p>"It is Wednesday now."</p> + +<p>"I start to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"When will you come back?"</p> + +<p>"When, indeed? Lucia, do not you see that this is a heavy price to pay?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! don't go. This grandfather has been cruel all these years; let him +wait now. Beside, what will Mr. Leigh do without you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He insists upon my going. He believes it would have been my mother's +wish, and therefore he will rather stay here alone than refuse."</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>must</i> go. But could not you persuade him to come and stay +with us? Mamma would like it, I know."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, dear child. Who knows how long I may be away, or what +changes may take place before I come back."</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall see him every day, in any case. But what shall I do +without you? and mamma?"</p> + +<p>"You remind me of the last thing I have to say. It seems to me, I cannot +tell you why, as if this change in my own life was to be followed by +other changes. I think Mrs. Costello has something of the same feeling, +and I want to say this to you, that if you should find it true, you may +remember in any disturbance of this quiet life of yours that I had some +vague anticipation of it, and not hesitate to let me be any help, any +use, to you that I can be. Do you understand? I shall be away, but I +shall not be changed in anything. You told me the other day I always +came to your help in your dilemmas. I want you to think of me always +so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> Can you manage to keep such, a living recollection of the absent?"</p> + +<p>Lucia's tears were falling fast by this time in the darkness, yet she +thought there was something cold and restrained in Maurice's words and +tone, and she could not guess how much the restraint cost him.</p> + +<p>"As if I should forget you!" she said rather resentfully. "I could just +as soon forget my brother, if I had one."</p> + +<p>The word did not suit Maurice. He sighed, with a kind of impatience.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go in?" he said.</p> + +<p>They turned towards the house, but when they reached it, instead of +following Lucia in, he said "Good-night."</p> + +<p>She turned in surprise.</p> + +<p>"But you are coming in?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-night; my father will be waiting for me."</p> + +<p>"Let me call mamma, then."</p> + +<p>"I have said good-night to her. You will not forget? I do not mean +forget me, but, forget that wherever I am, or wherever you are, you have +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> right to ask anything of me that a friend can do for you."</p> + +<p>"But we shall see you to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Go in; the air is damp and cold."</p> + +<p>He went away quickly, but Lucia lingered on the verandah until Mrs. +Costello came to look for her. Already she thought the house looked +desolate. What should they do without Maurice? Never in her life had she +been so sorrowful, yet she had not the slightest idea how far his pain +exceeded hers, or how he had longed for a word from her which would have +encouraged him, at this last moment, to say all that was in his heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>When Lucia awoke next morning, her first thought was of Maurice—what +should she do without him? She rose and dressed hastily, fancying that +at any moment he might come in, and anxious to lengthen, by every means, +the time of their nearness to each other.</p> + +<p>Maurice, however, though he looked wishfully at the Cottage as he went +about his preparations, had too many things to think of and arrange, to +steal a moment for the indulgence of his inclinations until afternoon, +and she was obliged to wait with such patience as she could for his +coming. He had told Mrs. Costello that it would be needful for him to +spend two or three hours in Cacouna, and asked her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> to see his father in +the meantime. Thus, in the afternoon, Lucia was for a considerable time +quite alone.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello, meanwhile, with more than friendly sympathy, heard from +Mr. Leigh his reasons for urging upon Maurice this hasty departure, and +cheered him with anticipations of his speedy return. They consulted +over, and completed together, some last preparations for his voyage; and +while they felt almost equally the trial of parting with him, the grief +of each was a kind of solace to the other. For, in fact, whatever they +might say, neither regarded this journey as an ordinary one, or thought +that the return they spoke of would be what they tried to imagine it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh, believing that his strength was really failing more and more, +hastened his son's departure, that the voyage might be made before his +increasing weakness should set it aside; his parting from Maurice, +therefore, he dreaded as a final one. Mrs. Costello had vaguer, but +equally oppressive forebodings. She saw that in all probability a few +weeks longer would find her peaceful home deserted, and herself and +Lucia fugitives. Even if Maurice, transported into a new world with new +interests<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> and incalculably brighter prospects, should still retain his +affection for them—and <i>that</i> she scarcely doubted—how could he ever +again be to them what he had been? far less, what she had hoped he might +be?</p> + +<p>When Maurice returned, earlier than they expected, from the town, he +found them still together. Mrs. Costello soon rose to return home, +having seen to the last possible arrangement for the traveller's +comfort. He proposed to accompany her, and say good-bye to Lucia, and +they left the house together.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you to do me another kindness yet," he said, as soon as +they had left the house. "My father, I am sure, will not tell me the +truth about himself; he will be terribly lonely, and I am afraid of his +health suffering more than it has done. He thinks it a duty to my +mother, that I should go to England now; but it will certainly be my +duty to him to come back, at all risks, if he feels my being away as +much as I fear he will."</p> + +<p>"You may at least depend upon one thing," she answered, "we will do all +we can to take care of him."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, that I know. But, Mrs. Costello, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> should be so glad if you +would write to me, and so give me the comfort of knowing exactly how he +is."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will. You shall have a regular bulletin every mail if you +like."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I should like it. And you will send me news also of yourself?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello sighed.</p> + +<p>"I am forgetting," she said, "and making promises I may not be able to +keep. I do not know how long I may be here, or where I may be three +months hence."</p> + +<p>Maurice looked at her in surprise. That she, who for twelve years had +never quitted her home for a single night, should speak thus of leaving +it without visible cause or preparation, seemed almost incredible.</p> + +<p>She answered his look.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am serious. A dreadful trouble is threatening me, and to save +myself and Lucia, I may have to go away. No one knows anything of it. +Now that you are leaving us, I dare say so much to you."</p> + +<p>"This, then, is why you have changed so, lately? Could not you have +trusted me before?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It would have been useless; no one can help me."</p> + +<p>Her voice seemed changed and broken, and she had grown ashy pale in +alluding to the dreadful subject. Maurice could not bear to leave her in +this uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Costello," he said, "if you had a son you would let him share +your anxieties. I have so long been used to think of you almost as a +mother, that I feel as if I had a kind of right to your confidence; and +I cannot imagine any trouble in which you would be better without +friends than with them."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," she answered, "it is part of our penalty to suffer alone. +Hitherto I have done so. No, Maurice, though you could scarcely be +dearer to me if you were my son, I cannot tell even you, at present, +what I fear."</p> + +<p>"At present? But you will, later?"</p> + +<p>"Later, perhaps. Certainly, if ever we meet again."</p> + +<p>"Which we shall do. You do not mean that you would not let me know where +you go?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I ought to mean it."</p> + +<p>"It would be useless. Whenever you go I shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> find you. You know—I am +almost sure you know—that whether right or wrong, it is leaving you +that troubles me now, even more than leaving my father."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>"You do me justice," she said, "but I will alter your sentence a little +for you, and say that you leave as much of your heart in my house as in +your father's. I believe that; I am almost sorry now to believe it."</p> + +<p>"Why should you be sorry? Do you think that there is no chance that in +time things may be more hopeful for me than they are at present?"</p> + +<p>"More hopeful for both our wishes, you might say; but, Maurice, my +day-dreams of many years past may have to be given up with my dear +little home."</p> + +<p>"Do not say so, if, indeed, your wishes are the same as mine. I have +faith in time and patience."</p> + +<p>"Do not let us say more on the subject—it is too tempting. I, too, must +try to have faith in time."</p> + +<p>"And you will write to me regularly?"</p> + +<p>"As long as I am here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And remember that I am not to be shaken off. I belong to you; and you +are never to trust anybody else to do a thing for you which I could have +done. You will promise me that, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, don't make me regret your going more than I should do. In +any case, I shall miss you daily."</p> + +<p>They had reached the Cottage, and Lucia came out to meet them.</p> + +<p>"How slowly you came!" she cried. "I thought you never meant to arrive. +Mamma, you look dreadfully tired. What have you been doing to her, +Maurice?"</p> + +<p>She was talking fast, to keep, if possible, their attention from +herself; for, to confess the truth, she had been indulging in a little +cry all alone, and did not care that her red eyelids should betray her; +but she might have spared the trouble. No word or look of hers was +likely to pass unnoticed in that last precious few minutes, though they +all sat down together, and tried to talk of indifferent matters as if +there had been the least possibility, just then, of any other thought +than that of parting.</p> + +<p>After a short time, Maurice rose.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must give my father the last hour," he said, "and the boat is due at +six."</p> + +<p>"But it does not ever leave before seven," Lucia answered, "and it is +still a quarter to five."</p> + +<p>"I have to meet it when it comes in. Mr. Bellairs is coming home by it, +and I have various affairs to settle with him."</p> + +<p>He looked at her as he said "Mr. Bellairs is coming," but there was no +tell-tale change in her face; she had for the moment utterly forgotten +Mr. Percy.</p> + +<p>"If he had not been coming, you would have had to wait for him, I +suppose?" she asked. "I wish he would stay away."</p> + +<p>"There are, unfortunately, such things as posts and telegraphs even +further west than Cacouna. I sent a telegram to meet him yesterday +morning."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, I suppose where there's a will there's a way."</p> + +<p>She spoke pettishly, and he only answered by coming across and holding +out his hand to say good-bye. She rose and put out both hers, intending +to say, as she often did when she had been cross, "Don't be angry, +Maurice, I did not mean it," but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> the words would not come. Her courage +suddenly gave way, and she cried with all her heart.</p> + +<p>At that moment Maurice felt that she was really his; he longed +unspeakably to claim her once and for ever; but his old generous +self-repression was too strong for the temptation, and he shrunk from +taking advantage of her grief and her sisterly affection. But a brother +has some privileges, and those he had a right to. Her face was hidden, +but he bent down, and drawing away her hands for a moment, kissed her +with something more than a brother's warmth, pressed Mrs. Costello's +hand, and hurried away.</p> + +<p>Lucia listened intently as the sound of his footsteps, and of the gate +as he passed through it, died away. Then she raised her head, and +pushing back her hair, came and sat down at her mother's feet, hiding +her flushed face and laughing a little half hysterical laugh.</p> + +<p>But the laugh was a complete failure, and broke down into a sob, which +was followed by a great many others, enough to have satisfied Maurice +himself. At last she checked herself. "What a baby I am!" she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello stroked back gently the soft black locks which were +falling loose over her lap.</p> + +<p>"You are a child, Lucia. I have never been in any haste for you to be +otherwise."</p> + +<p>"But I am not such a child, really, mamma. Sixteen and a half! I ought +to be very nearly a woman."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello sighed.</p> + +<p>"You will be a woman soon enough, my darling, be content as to that."</p> + +<p>"All the sooner now I have nobody but you to keep me in order. Mamma, +how <i>shall</i> we do without Maurice at Bella's wedding?"</p> + +<p>When the 'Queen of the West' passed down the river that evening with +Maurice on board, he could plainly distinguish two figures standing on +the verandah of the Cottage, and recognize Mrs. Costello's black dress, +and Lucia's softly flowing muslin, framed in the green branches of the +vine and climbing roses. One of those roses went with him on his journey +to remind him, if anything were needed to remind him, of the place to +which, even more than to his father's house, his heart turned as home.</p> + +<p>For a whole day Lucia had scarcely once re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>membered Mr. Percy; and that +same day she had scarcely been a moment absent from his thoughts. Not +that this had been at all the case during the whole of his absence from +Cacouna. On the contrary, he had, in spite of his ill-humour at +starting, found so many agreeable distractions in the course of his +journey that, at the end of a week, he congratulated himself on being +entirely cured of a very foolish and troublesome fancy. No sooner, +however, had they begun their return—taking, it is true; a different +route, and continuing to visit new places—than it appeared that the +cure was not yet entirely complete; still he paid little attention to +the returning symptoms, and suffered them to increase unchecked till, at +the commencement of their last day's journey, the magnet had resumed all +its former power, and he became positively impatient to find himself +again at the Cottage.</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy was not by any means so much in love as to be blind to the +extreme inconvenience and impolicy of anything like a serious love +affair with a little Canadian girl such as Lucia Costello; but in the +meantime she attracted him delightfully, and he always trusted to good +luck for some means of extrication, if matters should go a step further<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +than he intended. As for the possibility of her suffering, that did not +enter into his calculations; there would, of course, be some tears, and +she would look prettier than ever through them; but women always shed +tears and always wipe them away again, and forget them. So he came back +quite prepared to enjoy the two or three weeks which still remained to +him, by spending as many hours daily, as possible, in pursuit of what he +knew at the bottom of his heart he neither expected nor wished to +retain, when it was once gained.</p> + +<p>The pleasure of rivalling and mortifying Maurice had been, at first, one +of Percy's strongest incentives in his attentions to Lucia; and as he +found that, do what he could, it was impossible to force "that young +Leigh" to <i>show</i> either jealousy or mortification, he began to hate him. +He had enough sense and tact not to betray this feeling either to Mrs. +Costello or Lucia, but it only grew stronger for being repressed. Mr. +Bellairs, for some reason, said nothing to his cousin of the telegram he +received from Maurice at the town where they spent the last night of +their tour; it was, therefore, without any idea of what had really +happened that he perceived the father and son<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> standing together on the +wharf as the boat drew towards it. But as soon as he understood the +cause of their being there, it occurred to him that this chance +interview would be useful to him at the Cottage; he knew enough of women +to guess that the smallest scrap of information about the traveller, +even to be able to say, "I saw him on board the boat," would make him +additionally welcome to them. Accordingly, he spoke to Maurice with more +civility than usual, inquired to what part of England he was going, and +gave him, in his usual lazy fashion, some information about railways and +hotels which was likely to be useful to a stranger in the country. +Having thus not only done himself good, but as he felt, displayed a most +courteous and charitable spirit, he left Mr. Bellairs with the Leighs +and walked up to the house, where Bella's bridal preparations had been +going on vigorously during his absence.</p> + +<p>These preparations were nearly finished, for only three days remained +before that fixed for the wedding; and all had gone on smoothly, until +the sudden news of Maurice's summons to England deranged the bridal +party, and threw the bride into a fit of ill-humour from which Doctor +Morton was the greatest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> sufferer. She would not be satisfied with any +substitute either he or her sister could propose, and was the more +unreasonable because she knew that when her brother-in-law (of whom she +had really some little awe) should arrive, she would have to lay aside +her whims, and consent to accept whoever could be found to take the +office of groomsman at so short a notice. When he came, accordingly, +she was quite silent and submissive—a short consultation ended in what +she had expected; and Mr. Percy took Maurice's place in the programme. +Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bellairs were altogether pleased that it should be +so, but they comforted themselves with the idea that he would very +shortly be leaving Canada, and that as he and Lucia would necessarily +see much of each other while he did remain at Cacouna, their being +associated together on that one day could not be of any great +consequence.</p> + +<p>The next morning, therefore, when Mr. Percy made his appearance at the +Cottage, he had much to tell. But Lucia was still thinking more of +Maurice than of him; she was unusually quiet, and more inclined to talk +of England and to learn all she could of the voyage thither and of the +journey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> from Liverpool to Norfolk, than to occupy herself either with +the wedding or with the incidents of his tour on the Lakes. For the +first time Mr. Percy was alarmed; he began to think it possible that +during his absence, Maurice had so well used his time as to deprive him +of the influence which he had before acquired over Lucia's mind; and +this idea caused him suddenly to fancy that it was absolutely necessary +to his happiness that he should displace Maurice altogether from her +thoughts, even if, to do so, he should have to devote himself to her in +the most serious earnest.</p> + +<p>So Mr. Bellairs' stratagem failed. Before the two days, with their +constant comings and goings, were over, Mrs. Costello saw, with dismay, +that not only was Mr. Percy so far awakened from his usual state of +boredom as to be one of the most dangerous flatterers imaginable to a +girl of sixteen, but that Lucia appeared to have yielded completely to +an attraction which had now no counterpoise, since Maurice had left +them.</p> + +<p>Each day Lucia spent as long a time as she could with Mr. Leigh, and +strangely enough, the old man seemed to feel less depression after +Maurice was actually gone, than he had done in anticipating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> the +separation. In the hours which Lucia passed with him, he took delight in +talking to her of his wife, and her early home, describing it with that +wonderful recollection of trifles which seems to return to old people +when they speak of the incidents and scenes of their youth. And Lucia +loved to listen, and to picture to herself Maurice making acquaintance +with all these things which his father spoke of; and becoming necessary +to the proud, childless possessor of such wealth and so fair a home, +just as he had been necessary to them all, far away in the west. After +all, these hours were the happiest of Lucia's life at that time. They +brought her the consciousness of doing right—of doing what would please +Maurice, whose approbation had, all her life, been one of her dearest +rewards for "being good;" and she had also the actual enjoyment of these +quiet conversations, coming in, as they did, between the more vivid and +more troubled delights of feeling herself engrossed by a spell, to whose +power she submitted with joy indeed, but also with trembling. Every time +she now saw Bella, it appeared to her more entirely incomprehensible +that any one could act as she was doing; the mere idea of a marriage +where convenience, suitableness, common<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> sense were the best words that +could be used to account for it, began to seem revolting. She could not +have explained why, yet she felt, at times, a positive repugnance to +take any part in the celebration of so worldly, so loveless a contract.</p> + +<p>It was in this humour that she came back from Cacouna the evening before +the wedding. Bella had been more flippant than usual, until even Mrs. +Bellairs had completely lost patience with her, and the incorrigible +girl had only been stopped by the fear of her guardian's displeasure +from insisting on driving Lucia home, while Doctor Morton, who had been +all day absorbed by his patients, waited for her decision about some +arrangements for their journey. Lucia could not help giving her what +Bella called a lecture, but when she reached home and was seated in her +usual place at her mother's feet, she was still puzzling over the +subject, and over what Mrs. Costello had said when she first heard of +the engagement.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, at last, "do you remember saying you thought Bella's +might be a very happy marriage? I wonder if you think so still?"</p> + +<p>"Why should not I? What is changed?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that anything is; but you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> how tiresome she is. I +cannot imagine how Doctor Morton bears it."</p> + +<p>"Probably, he bears it because he thinks her tiresomeness will soon be +over. When she is married and in her own house, she will have other +things to think of besides teasing him."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, do you think she <i>loves</i> him?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello laughed. "Indeed, my dear, I can't tell. If she does not +now, I suppose she intends to."</p> + +<p>"But that can't be right. Mamma, I am certain you do not think that kind +of marriage right."</p> + +<p>"Not for all people, certainly. But for any one who is dear to me I +would far rather have a marriage of 'that kind' than one founded on the +hasty, utterly unreasonable fancy which girls often call love."</p> + +<p>Lucia blushed crimson, but would not give up her point. "I am sure if I +married a man I did not love, I should hate him in three months," she +said.</p> + +<p>"I do not think you and Bella are much alike," Mrs. Costello answered; +"and as for her, perhaps it may comfort you to know that I have +speculated a little on this subject, and I have some suspicion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> that +there may be more sentiment in the affair then she allows."</p> + +<p>Lucia started up. "Really, mamma, I am so glad," she cried. "Only, why +should she be so stupid?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think even you, Lucia, would be pleased to see Bella and Doctor +Morton enacting the same <i>rôle</i> as Magdalen and Harry Scott."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I should not. It would be too ridiculous. But just look at +Mr. and Mrs. Bellairs, <i>they</i> seem perfectly happy; and Mr. and Mrs. +Leigh must have been so, in spite of everything. Maurice told me he +believed his mother had never regretted her marriage; and that was +certainly a love match."</p> + +<p>"Mine was a 'love match,' Lucia, and brought me misery unimaginable. +Hush, say no more at present."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>Bella's wedding-day rose as fair and bright as a day could be. The +waning summer seemed to have returned to the freshness of early June, +and to have determined that the bride, whatever else might be wanting, +should have all the blessing sunshine could give her. Lucia, however, +after that first eager look out at the weather which we naturally give +on the morning of a fête-day, began to be conscious of a mood far too +depressed and uneasy to be in harmony with either the weather or the +occasion. Partly perhaps it was that her eyes had turned from habit to +Maurice's window, which when he was at home was always open early, but +whose closed up, solitary look now, reminded her of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> absence; partly +that the words her mother had spoken the previous evening lingered in +her mind, and not only brought back more forcibly than ever all her +puzzled and anxious thought about the past and future, but seemed to +throw a dark but impalpable cloud over the happiness of the present.</p> + +<p>But there was too much business to be done for her to spend time in +dreaming, and by the time she was ready for breakfast, the inclination +to dream had almost past away. After breakfast, and after the various +daily affairs which in the small household fell to her share to attend +to, there were flowers to be gathered, and a short visit to Mr. Leigh to +be paid; and by the time all this was done, it was time to dress.</p> + +<p>If this dressing was a longer process than usual, and if Lucia was a +little fanciful and hard to please over it, no one need be surprised. +Everybody knows that at a wedding, the bridesmaids rank next in +importance to the bride, and far before the bridegroom, who, for that +day at least, sinks into the most miserable insignificance. But it was +not only a perfect consciousness of the place in the eyes of the +multitude which she was expected to fill that made Lucia whimsical; much +stronger than even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> that, was the desire to please one,—the shy wish to +be admired, to see that she was so, possibly to hear it. She wondered to +herself whether she would look very awkward and rustic beside Lord +Lastingham's handsome daughters, and whether a certain Lady Adeliza, +whose name had somehow reached her ears, was much more beautiful than +she could ever hope to be. Poor child! her uneasiness on that point +would certainly have ceased if she could have peeped into Mr. Percy's +brain and seen the two portraits he carried about with him +there,—herself fresh and lovely as Psyche when she captivated Love +himself, and Lady Adeliza, highly distinguished and a little faded, but, +for a poor man, a very desirable match. She would have failed, probably, +to understand that last qualification, or to guess how it could +completely outweigh youth, beauty, and love, together; and so would have +felt even more joyous and less diffident than she did, when at last the +important business was finished, and she stepped into the carriage which +was to take her to Mrs. Bellairs'.</p> + +<p>There she found Bella, for once tolerably subdued, and submitting with +more patience than anybody expected of her, to be dressed by her sister +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> Magdalen Scott. The moment she saw Lucia, however, she whirled +herself round out of their hands, and vowed she would not do another +thing until she had had time to look at her bridesmaids both together.</p> + +<p>"You are perfectly charming!" she exclaimed, holding up her hands in +mock ecstasy. "It's quite useless for me to dress, Elise. Who will look +at me when they are to be seen?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be absurd, Bella. It is time you were ready now."</p> + +<p>"I'm in despair, my dear. Give me any shabby old dress, and here, Lucia, +put this thing on, and be the bride instead of me."</p> + +<p>She caught up her veil and threw it over Lucia's head before any one +could stop her.</p> + +<p>"You must change the bridegroom as well then," said Magdalen, rather +maliciously, "and perhaps she might not object."</p> + +<p>"What a pity Maurice is gone! It will have to be Mr. Percy, Lucia," +cried Bella, loosing the veil to clap her hands.</p> + +<p>"Be silent, Bella," said Mrs. Bellairs, "and finish dressing at once, +unless you intend me to leave you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia, flushed and half angry, had by this time freed herself from the +veil and smoothed her hair. Bella, a little sobered by her sister's +annoyance, returned to her toilette and was soon ready to go downstairs.</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room the guests were rapidly assembling. A space near one +end had been kept clear, but every other corner soon filled; and the +party overflowed into Mrs. Bellairs' own little room adjoining. Mr. and +Mrs. Bayne were among the last arrivals, and punctual to the appointed +time came the bridegroom and Harry Scott.</p> + +<p>A little change and flutter of the colour on Bella's cheek, when the +well-known knock was heard, showed that she was not entirely without +trepidation, but she rose quietly, took a last look at herself in the +glass, and was standing ready when her brother-in law came to fetch her. +In the hall, the bridegroom and his two friends met them—the +drawing-room door opened, and, with a soft rustle and gleam of white +dresses, the little party passed up through the crowd, and took their +places before the clergyman.</p> + +<p>There was no want of seriousness in Bella now. She had become so +extremely pale that Mrs. Bellairs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> watched her anxiously; but except that +her responses were made in a perfectly clear and audible tone, without +the smallest tremulousness, or appearance of what one of her neighbours +called "proper feeling," she was a most exemplary bride—even to the +point of looking prettier than she had ever been known to do before, and +almost eclipsing her bridesmaids. But, the ceremony over, she did not +remain long so unlike herself. She was quiet, certainly, but as gay, +mischievous, and childish as ever.</p> + +<p>Breakfast followed the marriage almost immediately. It was, of course, +as brilliant an affair as the resources of Cacouna could produce, and +everybody really seemed to enjoy themselves. The newly-married pair were +in all eyes but Lucia's so well and happily matched, and had so +reasonable a prospect of being content with each other and their +fortunes, that there did not seem to be a single cloud on the day. The +same boat which had carried Maurice away three days before, took the +bride and bridegroom on their tour, and not long after, the guests who +had dispersed after breakfast began to reassemble for the evening dance. +Lucia and Magdalen, at the window of what had been Bella's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> room, amused +themselves by watching the arrivals and talking over the event of the +morning.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see such a girl as Bella?" said Magdalen. "It seems as if +she could never be serious for a moment. She went off laughing as if she +were just coming back in half an hour."</p> + +<p>"Why should not she? She is not going away as some people do, hundreds +of miles from all her old friends."</p> + +<p>"No, but then it must be a kind of parting; she will never be with her +sister again as she used to be. I am sure I should have cried. There is +something dreadful in it, I think. It seems like leaving all one's youth +behind."</p> + +<p>Magdalen sighed rather affectedly. Lucia laughed.</p> + +<p>"People should not marry till they are old, according to that. I don't +quite believe you think so, however. But, you know, Bella always +declared a bride ought not to cry. I wonder if she will be any graver +now she is Mrs. Morton?"</p> + +<p>"What do you think Harry says about the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"He says Bella will find a difference between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> him and her guardian. Mr. +Bellairs used to let her spend her money just as she liked, and give +away a great deal, but Doctor Morton looks too sharply after the dollars +and cents for that. He never lets himself be cheated out of a farthing, +and never gives anything away."</p> + +<p>"I don't like people who are quite so careful, to be sure; but Bella +used to be rather extravagant sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Indeed she was. I can't think how she will do, so good-natured as she +is, if her husband is so dreadfully hard."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Harry is mistaken, though. Come, we must go down."</p> + +<p>"You will have to dance Maurice's quadrille with Mr. Percy to-night, +Lucia; are not you sorry?"</p> + +<p>Lucia blushed. "Poor Maurice!" she said, and they went downstairs. +Magdalen was right. Lucia danced with Percy, and thought no more of +Maurice. The evening passed too quickly; it seemed as if so much +happiness ought to last, but twelve o'clock came, and the elder people +began to disappear. Mrs. Bellairs had left the room where the dancers +were for a few minutes, and Lucia found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> her, looking tired and worried, +in a small one which was quite deserted.</p> + +<p>"I think I ought to go home," she said. "It is getting late. But, dear +Mrs. Bellairs, how dreadfully tired you look!"</p> + +<p>"I am tired; but weddings don't happen very often. Have you been +enjoying yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, so much. I don't think there ever was such a delightful party. +It is only a pity Bella could not be here, and Maurice."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid Maurice would not have enjoyed himself so much as you have +done. Lucia, I am a little vexed with you, though I do not know whether +I ought to say so."</p> + +<p>Lucia hung her head for a moment, and then raised it saucily, confident +that, as she stood half in shadow, her glowing cheeks could not be seen.</p> + +<p>"Why are you vexed with me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>But it was not so easy to answer the question straightforwardly, and +Mrs. Bellairs paused, half repenting that she had spoken.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she said, "what people are beginning to call you? They +say that you are a flirt; and that is not a desirable character for a +girl to acquire."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia's cheeks burned in good earnest now, but it was with anger, not +shame.</p> + +<p>"But it is not true. I am not a flirt. It is quite absurd to say so. You +know I am not, Mrs. Bellairs."</p> + +<p>She was right. This was not at all the accusation which her friend had +in her heart to make, though people <i>did</i> say it, and Mrs. Bellairs had +heard them.</p> + +<p>Lucia turned around. "I will get ready to go," she said. But some one +was standing close beside her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Percy!" she exclaimed angry and annoyed, while Mrs. Bellairs +hastily congratulated herself that he had neither been mentioned nor +alluded to.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said. "I came in this instant to look for you +for our waltz. Some one told me you were here."</p> + +<p>But Lucia could not recover her temper in a moment.</p> + +<p>"It is very late," she said, "and I am too tired to dance any more—pray +excuse me;" and she walked out of the room with the most dignified air +in the world, leaving Mr. Percy in con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>siderable surprise and some +offence. There was something so charming, however, in her little air of +pride and displeasure, that he admired her more then ever; while she, +quite unconscious of the effect her ill-humour had produced, made haste +to prepare for her drive home, but found an opportunity at the last +moment to throw her arms round Mrs. Bellairs' neck and whisper, as she +said good-night,</p> + +<p>"Don't be vexed with me. Indeed I shall never be a flirt."</p> + +<p>As usual, on Lucia's return from any evening amusement, Mrs. Costello +herself opened the door of the Cottage on her arrival. They went +together to the parlour for a few minutes, and afterwards to Lucia's +room, but it was not until her mother left her that it struck the poor +child that some new alarm or distress had happened.</p> + +<p>"I shall not go to sleep," she said to herself, "but wait and ask mamma +when she comes in;" but youth and fatigue were too strong for her +resolution, and she was soon fast asleep. It was not, indeed, till dawn +that Mrs. Costello came; her night had been spent like so many before +it, in painful thought and vigil; but before she slept, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> had, as she +hoped, fixed clearly and definitely her plans for the future. To have +done this, was in itself a kind of relief. She slept at last calmly, and +woke in the morning with a sensation of certainty and renewed courage, +which she had long been without.</p> + +<p>At breakfast she was so cheerful and had so many questions to ask about +the previous day, that Lucia readily persuaded herself that she had no +need to be uneasy.</p> + +<p>She did indeed say, "Have you heard from Mr. Strafford?" but Mrs. +Costello's answer satisfied her: "I had a note yesterday evening. He is +coming up, and may be here to-morrow," and no more was said.</p> + +<p>She found when she went over, soon after breakfast, to Mr. Leigh's, that +the post of the evening before had brought him also a letter, full of +interest to them all. It was from Maurice; and though it only described +his journey to New York, his stay there, and the steamer in which he had +taken his passage for England, it seemed for the moment almost to bring +him back home. They lingered over it, as people do over the first +letter, and amused themselves by guess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>ing how far he could yet be on +his voyage; whether the weather, which at Cacouna had been fair and +calm, would have been good or bad for those far out on the Atlantic. +That day neither Lucia nor Mr. Leigh cared for newspaper or book. They +had plenty to talk about, for when the subject of the letter was +completely finished, there still remained the wedding, of which Mr. +Leigh said Maurice would be sure to demand a full account. So they +talked hour after hour, and forgot how time was going, until Mrs. +Costello, growing uneasy, came to look for her daughter, and found them +still absorbed in their gossip.</p> + +<p>But when the afternoon began to be almost over, and there had been no +other interruptions to their quiet, Lucia found the interest of +yesterday worn out, and felt a vague want of something beyond her +mother's or Mr. Leigh's companionship. Mr. Percy's usual visit had not +been paid, and she could not help wondering whether he stayed away +because he was offended with her last night; whether he would come yet, +whether he had heard what Mrs. Bellairs had said, or what she answered; +and while she wondered, her attention grew so engrossed that she did not +hear when her mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> spoke to her, until the words had been twice +repeated.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello, at last, touched her arm.</p> + +<p>"Are you asleep, Lucia?" she said. "I have spoken to you two or three +times already."</p> + +<p>"Have you, mamma? I am very sorry. I believe I was half asleep."</p> + +<p>"You should have a walk. You have not been further than Mr. Leigh's all +day."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to go. I am quite content here, and I will not go to +sleep again. Tell me what you were going to say?"</p> + +<p>"Something of so little consequence that I have forgotten it. But do go, +like a good child, and have a little walk. You must go to-morrow to see +Mrs. Bellairs, but to-day I dare say she is glad to be quiet."</p> + +<p>Lucia went reluctantly, put on her hat, and started. She was so +accustomed to walking alone that she never thought of objecting on that +score, and turned, without deliberation, along the road that led to +Cacouna. It was a very quiet country road, running along the course of +the river; sometimes quite close to the bank, sometimes, as at the +Cottage, leaving room for a house and garden. The bank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> itself was high +and generally precipitous, but in some places it sloped more gradually +and was covered with soft turf. On the opposite, or American side, the +land was lower, and a little of town which lay almost opposite to +Cacouna was girdled in on all sides by pine-woods, the tops of which +showed like a black fringe against the brilliant light and colour of the +sunset sky. This contrast of brightness and darkness in the distance, +was heightened by the fainter, but still vivid gleam of the water, as +the river, stretching away in an unbroken sheet more than half a mile in +width, caught and reflected the changing colours of the clouds. This +view, which she had seen daily ever since she could remember, seemed +always to possess a new charm for Lucia; whatever might be her humour, +it was certain to subside into the same calm and almost reverent +attention while she watched the scene reach its most perfect splendour, +and then fade softly and gradually into night.</p> + +<p>But; at present, it wanted at least half an hour of sunset. There was +plenty of time for her walk before the short twilight would begin. She +strolled on, rather pleased to be alone, and in no hurry to traverse the +space of lonely road which intervened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> between Mr. Leigh's and the first +houses of the town. As she had expected, there was not a single +passenger on the way, nor did she see any one until, just as the first +roof began to be visible in front of her, she perceived lying by the +roadside what looked like a large bundle of old clothes. Coming nearer, +she found that it was a man apparently fast asleep, his head hidden by +his arms. Suspecting him, from his attitude, to be tipsy, she felt for a +moment inclined to turn back, but her hesitation seemed so foolish that +it was immediately conquered, and, keeping on the opposite side, she +walked quietly past. She had scarcely done so, however, when a loud +discordant shout was heard from the river, and the sleeper, awakened by +it, suddenly raised his head, and began to scramble as quickly as he +could to his feet. Lucia hurried on, but in a moment, hearing unsteady +footsteps coming fast behind her, and a thick inarticulate voice +calling, she turned to look. Scarcely three yards from her, staggering +along, and muttering, as if he thought the call which had awakened him +was hers, was an Indian, his dark face bloated and brutalized by drink. +As she turned, he came nearer and tried to catch her dress. Happily, he +was so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> much intoxicated that she easily evaded his hand, and with a cry +of terror fled along the road. But the Indian still pursued, and she was +hurrying blindly on, only conscious of that horrible face behind her, +and of the failing of her strength from excess of terror, when a voice +she knew cried "Lucia!" and she found Mr. Percy by her side.</p> + +<p>In another moment her agony of alarm was over; she was standing, still +trembling violently, but feeling safe and supported, with her hand drawn +firmly through his arm, while her pursuer seemed to have slunk away at +the sight of a third person, and was now reeling towards the river bank, +whence the same voice as before could be heard calling.</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy did not attempt to question or comment. He waited patiently +till Lucia's panic had subsided and she found voice to say, "Oh! I am so +glad you came."</p> + +<p>"So am I. What a brute! Yes, I am glad I came just then."</p> + +<p>He was so earnest, so shaken out of his usual listless manner, that she +was almost startled. It flashed into her mind too how he had cried +"Lucia"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> in a tone which she had heard in her terror without remarking.</p> + +<p>"Are you able to walk on now?" he asked, looking at her with real +solicitude and anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes," she answered, and they went on slowly.</p> + +<p>"But how did you come?" she inquired after a minute's silence. "The road +seemed quite deserted just before."</p> + +<p>"I came up from the landing below there. Bellairs persuaded me to go out +fishing with him this evening, and as we came back I caught sight of a +figure I thought was yours, and made him land me—happily just in time."</p> + +<p>"Happily indeed. I did not even see your boat."</p> + +<p>"We were too close under the bank most of the time. At the landing, +there was a canoe lying, with a man in it, most likely waiting for that +brute. You see he is gone down towards it."</p> + +<p>Lucia shuddered. "I think I should have fallen down in another minute. I +looked round once, and saw such a horrible face, red and swollen and +frightful, with the hair all hanging about it. I shall never forget +it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't speak of it at present. You see it is not safe for you to go +about alone."</p> + +<p>"But I never was frightened before. Now, I believe I shall be, always."</p> + +<p>"And I shall not be here again. I was coming to-night to tell you that I +am summoned home."</p> + +<p>They stopped involuntarily, and their eyes met. There was an equal +trouble in both faces. Lucia was the first to recover herself; she made +a movement to go on, and tried to speak, but felt instantly that her +voice could not be trusted.</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy's prudence failed utterly. "I meant to say good-bye" he said, +"but it is harder than I thought. I can't leave you here, after all. +Lucia, you must come with me."</p> + +<p>He was holding her hand, forcing her to stop and to look at him, and +finding in her beautiful, innocent face the sweetest excuse a man could +have for such madness. Madness it must have been, for he had wholly +forgotten himself, and all his life had taught him; and for the moment +felt that this girl, who loved him, was worth more than everything else +in the world would be without her.</p> + +<p>That night Lucia saw nothing of the sunset. Dusk came on, and the +fireflies began to flit round<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> them, before the two, who were so +occupied with each other, came to the Cottage gate. When they did so, +they had yet a few last words to say.</p> + +<p>"What will mamma say?" Lucia half whispered. "I am almost afraid to see +her."</p> + +<p>"Will you tell her or shall I? Which shall you like best? I will come in +the morning."</p> + +<p>"I shall not sleep to-night if she does not know. I suppose I must tell +her, if you will not come in now."</p> + +<p>"Not now. I must arrange my thoughts a little first. After all, Lucia, +you don't know how little I have to offer you."</p> + +<p>"What does that matter?" she asked simply. "Mamma will not care—nor I."</p> + +<p>"You will not, of course. You would be content to live like a bird, on +next to nothing; but then you know nothing of the world."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. I am nothing better than a baby."</p> + +<p>"You are a million times better than any other woman, and will make the +best and dearest of wives—if you had only a luckier fellow for a +husband."</p> + +<p>"Are you unlucky, really? Are you very poor?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor enough for a hermit. My father is not much richer; and as I have +the good fortune to be a younger son, the little he has will go to +George, my elder brother, not to me."</p> + +<p>Lucia was silent a moment, thinking.</p> + +<p>"Are you frightened?" he asked her. "You did not know things were quite +so bad?"</p> + +<p>"I am not frightened," she answered. "But I was considering. Mamma has +some money; she would give me what she could, but I am not like Bella, +you know. I have not any fortune at all."</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy laughed, "Do not puzzle yourself over such difficulties +to-night, at any rate. Leave me to think of those. I will tell you what +you must do. Make up your mind to be as charming as possible when you +see my father, and fascinate him in spite of himself; for, I assure you +he will not very readily forgive us for deranging his plans. Good-night +now, I shall be here early to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He went away up the lane, while she lingered yet for a moment, looking +after him, trying to understand clearly what had happened—to realize +this wonderful happiness which was yet only like a dream. How could she +go out of the soft summer darkness into the bright light of the parlour +and its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> every day associations? But as she retraced every word and look +of the past hour, she came back at last to the horrible recollection of +the Indian who had alarmed her. That hideous besotted face seemed to +stare at her again through the obscurity, and, trembling with fright, +she hurried through the garden and up the verandah steps.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was sitting at work by the table where the light fell +brightly, but Lucia was glad that the lamp-shade threw most of the room +into comparative darkness. Even as it was, she came with shy lingering +steps to her mother's side, and was in no hurry to answer her question, +"Where have you been loitering so long?"</p> + +<p>"I have been at the gate some time," she said. "It is so pleasant out of +doors."</p> + +<p>"I went to the top of the lane to look for you a long time ago, and saw +you coming with, I thought, Mr. Percy."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He met me. Mamma, I want to tell you something about—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello laid down her work.</p> + +<p>"What?" she said almost sharply, as something in her child's soft +caressing attitude, and broken words struck her with a new terror.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia slid down to the floor, half kneeling at her mother's feet. "About +myself—and him," she murmured.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello raised her daughter's face to the light, and looked at it +closely with an almost bitter scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"Child," she said, "I thought you would have been safe from this. I did +him injustice, it seems."</p> + +<p>A new instinct in Lucia's mind roused her against her mother. She let +her clinging arms fall, and raised her head.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, mother," she answered, and half rose from +where she had been kneeling.</p> + +<p>"Stay, Lucia," and her mother's hand detained her. "I have tried to save +you from suffering. I see now that I have been wrong. But tell me all."</p> + +<p>Awed and startled out of the sweet dreams of a few minutes ago, Lucia +tried to obey. She said a few almost unintelligible words, then came to +a sudden pause. She had slipped back again to her old place after her +little burst of anger, and now looked up pleadingly to her mother.</p> + +<p>"But, indeed, I don't know how it was," she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> said; "only it was after +the Indian went away."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello started. "What Indian?" she asked.</p> + +<p>And then the story came out, vivid enough, but broken up as it were by +the newer, sweeter excitement of that other story which she could only +tell in broken words and blushes. As she spoke her eyes were still +raised to her mother's face, looking only for the reflection of her own +terror and thankfulness; but she saw such deadly paleness and rigidity +steal over it, that she started up in dismay.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello signed to her to wait, and in a moment was again so far +mistress of herself as to be able to say,</p> + +<p>"Sit down again. Finish your story, and then describe this man if you +can."</p> + +<p>Her voice was forced and husky, but Lucia dared not disobey. She had +only a few words to add, but her description had nothing characteristic +in it, except the utterly degraded and brutal expression of the +countenance, which had so vividly impressed her.</p> + +<p>When she ceased speaking, both remained for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> some minutes silent and +without moving. Then Mrs. Costello rose, and began to walk slowly up and +down the room. She felt that she had made a mistake in the affair +nearest to her heart. She knew that Lucia had a girl's fancy for Mr. +Percy; he had done all he could to awaken it, and it was not likely that +the poor child would have been entirely untouched by his efforts; but +she had believed that it was only for the amusement of his leisure that +he had been so perseveringly blind to her own coldness, and that he was +too thoroughly selfish to be guilty of such an imprudence as she now saw +had been committed. That Lucia could ever be his wife, she knew was +utterly impossible. She had thought that the worst which could happen, +was that when he had left Cacouna his memory would have to be slowly and +painfully eradicated from her heart, but now it had become needful to +cause this beloved child a double share of the trouble, which she had so +dreaded for her. All these thoughts, and with them the idea of an added +horror overhanging herself, seemed to press upon her brain with +unendurable weight. Yet, suffer as she might, time must not be suffered +to pass. Night was advancing, and before morning Lucia must know all the +story, which once<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> told, would shadow her life, and throw her new-born +happiness out of her very recollection.</p> + +<p>She stopped at last in her restless walk. She went up to the chair where +Lucia sat, and putting her arms round her, kissed her forehead.</p> + +<p>"You are very happy, my child?" she said tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I don't know. I <i>was</i> happy."</p> + +<p>"You will be again—not yet, but later. Try to believe that, for it is +time you should share my secret and my burden, and they are terrible for +you now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>"You will be happy again!" Did any one of us in the first dull pain of a +new, inexplicable suffering, ever believe such words as those? Lucia +read her mother's face, tone, gestures too well to doubt that she +regarded this long-kept secret as something which must separate her from +Percy—must separate her, she therefore fancied, from all that was best +and sweetest in life. It was hard that she should have been suffered to +taste happiness, if it was instantly to be snatched from her. She felt +this half resentfully, shrinking into herself, and cowering before the +unknown trial, which, when fully understood, her natural courage would +enable to meet with energy. She sat with her head resting on her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> hands, +while Mrs. Costello left the room, and came back carrying a small, +old-fashioned desk, which she placed upon the table. This desk, which +she knew had been her mother's when a girl, and which contained many +little treasures, attracted Lucia's attention. Obeying a sign from Mrs. +Costello, she came forward, and watched while it was opened, and the +many familiar objects taken out. Underneath all, where she had always +thought the desk remained empty, the pressure of a spring opened another +compartment, in which lay a few papers and a likeness.</p> + +<p>"You have often asked me to show you your father's likeness, Lucia," +Mrs. Costello said with slow painful utterance. "There it is. Take it, +and you will know my secret."</p> + +<p>Lucia put out her hand, but as it touched the portrait lying there face +downwards, she involuntarily drew it back, and glanced at her mother.</p> + +<p>"Must I see it? Must I know?" she whispered tremblingly.</p> + +<p>"You must."</p> + +<p>She lifted the picture and looked, but the lines swam before her eyes. +As they steadied and came out clearly she saw a tall figure with black +hair,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> dressed in a gaily striped shirt and blanket, and leaning on a +spear—an Indian. She threw the likeness from her with a cry, +"Impossible! It is <i>not</i> true," and with clasped hands tried to shut out +the hateful sight.</p> + +<p>Shudder after shudder swept over her, and still she cried in her heart, +"I will not believe it," but she said no more aloud. Her father! All her +lifelong terror of his race, all that she had known of them up to the +encounter of that very evening, which now seemed years ago, surged +through her mind; and, as if mocking her, came above all, her own face +with the dark traits which she had believed to be Spanish, but which she +could now trace to such a different origin. In a moment, and for ever, +her girlish vanity fell from her. She felt as if her beauty were but the +badge of degradation and misery. And then there came the keen instinct +of resentment—it was to her mother, whom she loved, that she owed this +intolerable suffering. Crouching down and shivering, as if with cold, +she yielded to the storm of thought which swept over her, yielded to it +in a kind of blind despair, from which she had neither wish nor power to +rouse herself.</p> + +<p>But this mood, which seemed to paralyse her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> lasted in reality but a +few minutes; she was roused by her mother's voice and touch. She looked +up for a moment, but with hard tearless eyes and set lips, and only to +put away from her the hand that had been softly laid on her shoulder. +Mrs. Costello drew back; she returned to her chair, and sat down to +wait, but the long deep sigh which unconsciously escaped her, as she did +so, reached Lucia's heart. A strong impulse of love and pity seemed to +break through all her misery; she felt that, at least, she did not +suffer alone, and with a quick self-reproach she threw herself at her +mother's feet, and encircled her waist with her arms. For a moment +neither spoke. They held each other fast, and one, at least, thanked God +silently that the most bitter pang was averted, since they could still +so cling to each other.</p> + +<p>But after a while, Mrs. Costello said, "I have much to tell you, my +child. Can you bear to hear it now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother. I must know all now."</p> + +<p>Lucia rose, and bringing a footstool, sat down in her old childish +attitude at her mother's feet; only that her face, which was worn and +pale, was quite hidden.</p> + +<p>"I am ready," she said. "Explain all I cannot understand."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>No human being, perhaps, could tell his or her own story with perfect +truth; still less could tell it so to the hearer the most passionately +loved, and whose love seems to hang in the balance. It would be apt to +be a piece of special pleading, for or against, as egotism or conscience +happened to be strongest. Best, then, not to try to reproduce the words +spoken that night—spoken in the tuneless, level voice, which, in its +dull monotony, is a truer indication of pain than any other; but to +repeat only the substance of all that Lucia then heard for the first +time.</p> + +<p>To her, the old house by the Dee was already familiar ground; she knew, +dimly, the figure of a lady who died there in her youth, and left a +desolate child, well cared for, but little loved, to grow up alone; and +she knew, more familiarly, but with a sense of awe which was almost +dislike, the child's father, her own grandfather, a man saddened, +silent, unsympathetic. These, and various relations and servants who had +surrounded her mother in her childhood, she had already heard of a +thousand times. The story, new to her, began in Mary Wynter's fifteenth +year.</p> + +<p>At that time Mr. Wynter's family consisted of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> four persons—himself, +his daughter, her governess, and a nephew, George Wynter, who was, in +fact, an adopted son. The governess had been lately and hastily added to +the household, on the discovery of Mary's amazing ignorance; and her +selection had been a mistake. She and her pupil were at open warfare, +she endeavouring to teach, Mary determined not to learn. The poor lady +was very conscientious, and very well instructed, but she was not +judicious. She never found out that her pupil would have been an +absolute slave to affection, but was altogether hardened to severity, +and when she failed in herself enforcing her authority, she made the +great and most unlucky mistake of appealing to George Wynter. Mary, up +to that time, had had no dislike to her cousin. He was nearly twenty +years older than herself, an excellent man, who took everything <i>au pied +de la lettre</i>, and who, perceiving that what Miss Smith said was +reasonable, thought duty and common sense required him to "speak to" her +<i>un</i>reasonable pupil. He never discovered his mistake—nor Miss Smith +hers; but things grew more and more uncomfortable. Miss Smith tired of +her struggles, and sought more manageable pupils; and Mary, immediately +after her fifteenth birthday, was sent to school.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>Removed to a new atmosphere, no longer chilled by loneliness or +embittered by the consciousness of perpetual disapproval, the girl began +to bloom sweetly and naturally. For the first time she was fortunate in +her surroundings. Companionship made her gay, and emulation woke keen +and successful ambition. Nearly three years passed, and, in place of +ignorance and insubordination, she had gained a bright intelligence and +a becoming submission. At seventeen she returned home, a girl who would +have brought to a mother both pride and anxiety.</p> + +<p>But there was no mother to receive her. At the sight of her, her father +was a little shaken out of his accustomed thoughts and habits. He tried +to imagine what his wife would have done or counselled for their child's +good, but his imagination was unpractised and would not help him much. +He made one great effort for her sake. He took her abroad, and for a +whole year travelled about, showing her much that was best worth seeing +in the south of Europe—but seeing <i>places</i> chiefly, people seldom. In +all this time she saw nothing of her cousin George—he had almost fallen +out of her acquaintance, and taken the place of a disagreeable memory.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +But when she and her father came home, he was there to receive them, and +she began to realize that his presence was to be an essential part of +her home life. More than that, she now perceived how distinctly he stood +between her and her father—a fact she had forgotten while they were +together without him. The acquaintance and sympathy between them, which +had been slowly growing up during their year of travel, froze to death +now that he was there; and Mary, at eighteen, found herself completely +isolated.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to her father that she ought to go into society, or +that she needed a chaperone. Society had lost all its charms for him; +and he intended to marry his daughter early, and so give her the best of +protection. Neither did it seem necessary to him that she should be +consulted in any way about her marriage. However insubordinate she might +as a child have been to others, to him, whenever they were brought into +direct contact, she had always been perfectly submissive, and he +expected her to continue so. To such a length had his confidence in the +success of his plans gone, that he had never in any way hinted them to +his daughter—the thing was settled, and had become a part of the course +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> nature, in no way requiring to be discussed. Under these +circumstances, Mary spent two years of grown-up life at home. They were +very wearisome and depressing years, partly from her position, partly +from her strong, and always growing, dislike to the cousin, who was so +much more to her father than she was. She saw very few people; now and +then she went with her father to a dinner-party where most of the guests +were "grave and reverend seigniors" like himself; now and then to a +dance, where people were civil to her, and where some stranger in the +neighbourhood would occasionally show signs of incipient admiration, +pleasantly exciting to a girl in her teens. And now and then she had to +receive visitors at home, feeling constrained and annoyed while she did +so, by the invariable presence of George. There were neighbours who +would gladly have been good to her. It was common for mothers to say to +each other, "Poor Mary Wynter! I should like to ask here more, but I +really dare not, Mr. Wynter is <i>so</i> odd,"—and Mary had even a certain +consciousness of this goodwill and its suppression; but there were other +sayings, common as household words, among these same people, of which +she had no suspicion. It would,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> perhaps, have changed the whole story +of her life, if she had known that the reason why she lived as much +apart from the whole region of lovemaking or flirtation as if she had +been a staid matron of fifty, was, the general belief that she was +engaged, and before long to be married to the one man in the world whom +she cordially hated. If she had known it then, she might, perhaps, have +found a substitute for her cousin among her own equals and countrymen, +but her entire unconsciousness, which they could not suspect, so +deceived every possible lover as to make them believe her utterly out of +their reach.</p> + +<p>The only real enjoyment which brightened these dull years, came to Mary +when she visited an old school-friend. There were two or three with whom +she had kept up affectionate intercourse; and one, especially, whose +house was her refuge whenever she could get permission to spend a week +away from home. This girl had married at the very time of Mary's leaving +school—she lived much in the world, and would have carried Mary into +the whirl of dissipation if Mr. Wynter had allowed it. But he had +restricted his daughter's visits to those times of the year when Helen +Churchill and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> husband were in the country, fatigued and glad of a +few weeks of quiet; there Mary went to them, and found their quiet +livelier than the liveliest of her home-life.</p> + +<p>But in the spring of her twenty-first year, leave, often refused, was +granted, and she joined the Churchills in London. The first week passed +in a delightful confusion—whether her new dresses, or her unaccustomed +liberty, or the opera, or the park, or the companionship of Helen, or +the absence of George, were the most delightful, she would have been +puzzled to say. The next week her head steadied a little—everything was +delightful, but it was London, and not fairyland; it could not be denied +that the rooms were hot, and that one came down rather tired in the +morning. Mrs. Churchill, however, had a remedy for that. She had a +pretty pair of ponies which carried her well out of London almost every +morning, into fresh air and green lanes, and she took Mary with her. +After breakfast they used to start, and make their expedition long or +short, according to the day's engagements.</p> + +<p>One morning they had completely escaped from town, and were driving +along a pleasant road, shady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> and quiet, where, in those days, no +suburban villas had sprung up, but where a park paling was overhung by +trees on one side, and on the other, fields stretched away upon a gentle +slope. They had lately met but few people, and Helen, never a very +careful driver, had been letting her ponies do pretty much what they +liked. At last the lively little animals, perhaps out of pure +wilfulness, chose to take fright at something by the roadside; they made +a sudden rush, and their mistress all at once found herself quite unable +to hold them. There was no immediate danger, the road being both good +and clear, but as they went on, their pace, instead of subsiding, seemed +to increase. The carriage was not of the low build of these days, and +the servant hesitated to risk a jump from his perch at the back. +Meantime a corner was in sight, which it would be hazardous to turn at +this pace. Mary sat, pale and terrified, only just sufficiently mistress +of herself not to scream when suddenly, two men appeared coming towards +them round the dreaded corner. In another moment the adventure was +over—the ponies had been stopped by one of the two strangers, and were +standing panting but subdued; and Helen, recovering her self-possession +the moment she was out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> danger, was leaning forward to pour out +thanks and explanations.</p> + +<p>Mary, having less to do, had more leisure to look at the new-comers. +They were both young, and dressed like English gentlemen, but they had +both something foreign and unusual in their appearance. But there was +this difference—that the foreign aspect was of a kind singularly +attractive in the one, and unattractive in the other. One might have +been a Frenchman of <i>mauvais ton</i>, but that he spoke English like an +American. The other, who resembled a very handsome Spaniard, spoke with +a slight French accent, and in a remarkably musical voice. The handsome +one, indeed, spoke very little—it was he who had first stepped into the +road and caught the runaway ponies; but having done so, he left his +companion to take the lead in replying to Mrs. Churchill's civilities. +And when she finally begged to know their names, in order that her +husband might also express his gratitude, it was the unprepossessing one +who produced his card, and, having written an address upon it, gave it +to her, saying that it would serve for both. He and his friend were fond +of long walks, he added, neither of them being used to London life, and +that was the cause of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> being so fortunate as to have been of use +to the ladies. He ended this little speech with an elaborate bow, his +companion raised his hat, and they parted.</p> + +<p>The ponies went home quietly enough, and Helen took care to look after +her driving. She handed the card to Mary, who read on it, "Mr. Bailey," +and an address, which Helen said was probably that of a lodging.</p> + +<p>"I should like to know who the other is," she added; "he was very much +the nicest looking. I must get my husband to call to-morrow, and then we +shall know more about them."</p> + +<p>Mary did not say much on the subject. Love at first sight may be fairly +owned as a possibility, but it would be ridiculous to say that Mary +Wynter had proved its reality. The thin end of the wedge, perhaps, had +wounded her, and a succession of blows would easily drive it deep into +her heart, or her fancy, as the case might be. Perhaps, too, it was more +tempting to think of a stranger so attractive without being able to give +him a name, than it would have been if he had to be recognized as Mr. +Thomas Brown or Mr. John Robinson.</p> + +<p>However that might be, she did not find her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> enjoyment of the day at all +interfered with by the morning's incident. She and Helen paid some +visits, then dined out, and finally arrived rather late at a house where +there was a great evening gathering. This house was one at which she had +not before been a guest, and she was full of lively curiosity about the +people she was to meet there. The hostess was fond of collecting +together all sorts of stray oddities, and of trying to further a scheme +of universal brotherhood by mixing up in her drawing-room a most motley +crowd, including all classes, from the ultra fine lady to the +emancipated slave. It was not, perhaps, very amusing to the portion of +her guests who found themselves lost in a sea of unknown faces, through +which no pilot guided them; yet people went to her, partly because she +was <i>grande dame</i>, and partly as to a lion show. Mrs. Churchill thought +her country girl would be amused by one visit to this lady, and Mary was +delighted at the prospect of seeing the possessors of various well-known +names.</p> + +<p>The rooms were very full when they arrived; and when, after considerable +exercise of patience and perseverance, they had struggled in and got to +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> corner where they could breathe, and speak to each other, Helen said,</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, I hope you will find the sight worth the scramble—it is +fuller than usual to-night, I think; and if I followed my own +inclinations, I should try to slip round to a little room I know, where +there are seldom many people, and rest there. But that would not be fair +to you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed it would," Mary answered. "Do let us go; we can perhaps move +about a little, later, and I positively cannot breathe here now."</p> + +<p>They worked their way accordingly to the little boudoir Helen spoke of. +Their progress was not without incidents—now an acquaintance, now a +celebrity, now a woolly-haired princess, now a jewelled Oriental, met +them as they went; but at last they turned out of the crowd and passed +into a room nearly dark, quite empty, and cool. "Nobody has found it out +yet," said Helen, sinking into a chair with a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>They remained silent, enjoying the quiet and fresh air. A large window +opening on a balcony occupied the greater part of one side of the room, +and a glimmer of reflected light, and a murmur of voices, came from the +windows of the great drawing-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>room which also opened to the balcony. But +both light and sound were subdued to the pleasantest softness, and the +night-air was still and sweet; Mary's seat was beside the window, Mrs. +Churchill sat further back towards the middle of the room.</p> + +<p>Presently there was a sound of steps on the balcony. Helen moved +impatiently. "Somebody coming," she murmured.</p> + +<p>Mary involuntarily raised her hand as a sign that she should be silent; +a voice had begun to speak which she recognized with surprise. It was +that of their acquaintance of the morning. He was speaking in French, +with a bad accent, and a voice which sounded even more disagreeable than +it had done when he spoke to Helen.</p> + +<p>"Bah! one can breathe here. What a crowd! And, my good friend, allow me +to remind you that you are not doing your duty. If you don't look a +little more sharply after our interest we shall quarrel."</p> + +<p>"What am I to do?" another voice answered, and this time the accent was +perfect, and the tones marvellously harmonious. "You bring me here, into +this horrible crowd, where I am stifled, and I do not see what I can do +except answer everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> who speaks to me, and try to look as if I were +not longing to get away."</p> + +<p>"Do?" repeated the first. "Why, <i>pose</i> a little. I wish I had made you +come in paint and feathers. I believe my lady would have liked it +better."</p> + +<p>They had been drawing nearer as they spoke, and now stepped into the +room. Bailey, who was first, passed Mary without seeing her, but the +gleam of Mrs. Churchill's dress caught his eye, and he paused abruptly.</p> + +<p>Helen rose and moved a step towards him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bailey," she said graciously, "you must allow me to introduce myself +to you now that chance has given me the opportunity. I am Mrs. +Churchill, and I am glad to be able to repeat my thanks for the service +you did me this morning."</p> + +<p>Upon this Bailey came forward; he had had time to make himself pretty +certain that nothing serious could have been overheard, and was ready to +receive with rather florid politeness all the acknowledgments and +civilities offered.</p> + +<p>Mary alone seemed to remember that the ponies had really been stopped, +not by Bailey, but by the man who now stood silent near to her. She in +turn rose, and spoke with some diffidence. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> should like to offer my +thanks too. I think I was too frightened to say anything this morning, +but indeed I thank you."</p> + +<p>The stranger bowed. "You make too much of a very small matter," he +answered; "the ponies would most likely have become quiet of themselves, +only it did not seem certain they would have turned the corner quite +safely."</p> + +<p>"I am sure they would not; they were quite unmanageable, and we had not +met anybody for a long time. That road is so quiet."</p> + +<p>Mary went on talking, fascinated by the charm of the voice that replied +to her, until other people did come in, and the spell was broken. But +when Helen moved back into the larger rooms, and she was obliged to +follow, she went dreamingly until they found themselves beside their +hostess. Upon her Helen seized, and assailed her with questions. Who +were these two men? But of all the amazing announcements Lady Deermount +had ever had to make respecting her guests, the most amazing perhaps was +in her reply.</p> + +<p>"He is an Indian Chief, your hero, a true, genuine Uncas, only educated; +and the other is an American."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>An Indian Chief! These were the days when Cooper's novels were the +latest fashion, and many a girl's head was turned by visions of splendid +heroes—stately, generous, brave, and beautiful—capable of everything +that was grandest, noblest, and most fascinating. Here was one in +<i>propriâ personâ</i>; and one, too, who, in addition to all the heroic +virtues, could speak excellent French and English, and dress like an +English gentleman.</p> + +<p>What wonder if that night mischief was done never to be undone, however +long, however bitterly repented?</p> + +<p>It would be too tedious to continue the story in detail. Lady Deermount +had constituted herself the patroness of many adventurers, but never of +one cleverer than Bailey. She absolutely believed and duly repeated the +story he told her, which was briefly this:—His companion, whose +many-syllabled Indian name he taught her, but who, in England, found his +baptismal one of Christian more convenient, was the chief of a tribe +once powerful, now fallen into decay. To raise this tribe again was his +one idea, his fervent ambition. He had himself been educated by the +French Jesuits, but, when fully informed, had seen the errors of their +faith, and now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> earnestly desired to found among his people, English +civilization and the Protestant religion. Money was needed; for this he +had consented to come to England, accompanied by about a dozen men and +women of his tribe, hoping that the sight of these poor creatures in all +their native savagery would prevail upon the rich and generous to help +him in his work of education.</p> + +<p>What could be more interesting? As a matter of fact, considerable +assemblies did gather, daily, to see the Indians perform their dances, +or sing their songs, or to hear one of them relate their legends, which +Christian translated into musical and fluent English. Bailey explained +his own connection with the party by saying that they required some one +to look after the more practical matters of lodging, food, etc., which +Christian, a stranger in Europe, could not well do, and professed +himself to be a mere hired accessory. It was Christian who was the soul +of all, the hero, who, for a noble purpose, endured a daily +mortification of his legitimate pride. And with Christian, Mary Wynter +fell deeply in love. Everything helped her—nothing hindered. Did no +other girl ever fall in love with a creature as purely of her +imagination? A good many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> wives, perhaps, know something about it, and a +good many old maids also—who are the better off.</p> + +<p>When the visit to London ended, and she went back to the old solitary +life, everything had changed to her. Her days, which had been empty, +were full of dreams, her heart grew tender, glad, hopeful, with a sweet +unreasonable content. Even George seemed less disagreeable to her; she +began to think she had been often ill-tempered, and must try to make +amends. Christian had found means—or Bailey had found them for him—to +make her believe herself as much to him as he was to her. She knew that +the whole party had left London, and were moving from place to place. +By-and-by they would come to Cheshire, and then she would see or hear of +them. Christian had not proposed to her to marry him, nor had she +deliberately considered such a possibility—she loved him, and he would +soon be near her again, that was enough for the present.</p> + +<p>In this mood she passed the rest of summer, and the early autumn. Mr. +Wynter and George spent most of the day together, and she saw little of +them until dinner-time. The evenings were social, after a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> fashion. +Sometimes Mary played or sung—sometimes George read aloud. Mr. Wynter +liked to be amused, but he did not care to talk. Thus, even the hours +they spent together led to no acquaintance between father and +daughter—each was altogether in the dark as to the thoughts, feelings, +and projects of the other.</p> + +<p>One November morning Mary was sitting alone as usual. She had intended +to go out, but it was grey and cheerless out of doors, and the +attraction of a bright fire, and a new book, proved too strong for her. +The book was one of her favourite Indian stories, and she lost herself +in the delightful depths of the "forest primeval" with an entire and +blissful forgetfulness of England and common sense. But she roused +herself, with a start of no little surprise, when her father suddenly +walked into the room.</p> + +<p>"Papa!" she cried, jumping up and letting her book fall, with a sudden +conviction that something important indeed, must have brought so unusual +a visitor.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, my dear," he answered kindly; "I have something to say to +you. It did not seem necessary to say anything about it before, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> now +you are nearly twenty-one, and that is the time I have always fixed +upon."</p> + +<p>"Fixed upon for what, papa?" she said, utterly at a loss.</p> + +<p>"For your marriage, my dear. It is a good age, quite young enough, and +yet old enough for a girl to have some idea of her duties. I wish you to +be married in February. A month after your birthday."</p> + +<p>Mary looked at him in complete bewilderment. Her very marriage-day +fixed, and where was the bridegroom? She almost laughed, as she thought +that she could not even guess at any person who as likely to propose for +her—except one.</p> + +<p>"But who is it?" she managed to ask, at last. "Nobody wants to marry +me."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" Mr. Wynter repeated in surprise. "George, of course."</p> + +<p>"George!" she stopped a minute to recover breath.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wynter remained silent. He had said all that was needful. She was +going to say, "Papa, you must be joking," but she looked at his face and +could not. He was too much in earnest—she perceived that with him the +thing was settled—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> therefore done. She took courage from the +despair of the moment; "Papa," she said deliberately, "I will <i>never</i> +marry my cousin George."</p> + +<p>For one moment, his face seemed to change. Then he got up, as calm and +assured as before.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised, I see," he answered. "I supposed you must have +guessed my intentions. I will speak with you about it again to-morrow."</p> + +<p>So he went out, and left her stunned, but by no means beaten. And, from +that day a struggle began—if indeed it could be called a struggle, +where the one party had not the slightest comprehension of the +resistance of the other. At Christmas, Mary, by this time driven almost +frantic, heard of the arrival of Christian at Chester. They met by +Bailey's contrivance, and Mary came back home pledged to marry her hero. +Delay, however, was necessary. The marriage could not take place until +just before the Indians sailed for Canada, which would be in March, and +Mary could obtain delay, only by a kind of compromise. She made her +cousin himself the means of obtaining this, by reminding him that the +least he could do for her, was to give her time to reconcile herself to +so new an idea. He, not the least in love, and far from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> suspecting a +rival, asked that the marriage might be put off for three months. This +was all that was needed. On the night of the 16th March, Mary left home, +and travelled under Bailey's guidance to Liverpool. There Christian met +her. All had been arranged, and they were married, and started for +Ireland. After a week or two of honeymoon, they went to Queenstown, and +there joined the ship, which was carrying the rest of the party to +Quebec.</p> + +<p>It was during the two or three weeks spent in Ireland, and still more +completely during the voyage, that all the fair fabric of the young +wife's delusions fell to pieces.</p> + +<p>The truth of Bailey's history was very different from what he said of +himself. He had been long the disgrace and torment of his own relations +in the United States, and at last, after years of every kind of vice, +had been obliged to fly from his country under strong suspicions of +forgery. He went to the north, and for a year or two lived a wild life +full of adventure; during which he occupied himself diligently in +becoming acquainted with the Indian tribes, learning some of their +dialects, and trying by every means to ingratiate himself with them. +Probably at first, this was only for amusement, but after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> awhile, he +seems to have entertained the idea of making a profit of his new +associates. He soon found, however, that the more independent and +uncivilized tribes, though they might form the most piquant exhibition, +were too unmanageable for his purpose. He came down therefore to Canada, +to seek for more promising materials. Here he met with exactly the +opposite difficulty—most of the tribes were more or less civilized, and +had, at any rate, advanced so far in knowledge of the world as to be +unwilling to put themselves into his power. He soon saw that the best +way of securing such a party as he wished, would be to find one Indian, +whom he might make to some degree a confidant and partner in the +enterprise, and who would naturally possess a stronger influence with +the rest, than he could himself obtain. It was a long time before he +succeeded in doing this; but when he did, it was to perfection. An +island about fifty miles from Cacouna, called Moose Island, was then, +and still is, occupied by a settlement of Ojibways. A Jesuit mission, +established on the Canadian bank of the river, had been devoted to the +conversion of these people, with so much success that nearly all of them +were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> nominal Christians. For the rest, they lived in their own way, +providing for themselves by hunting and fishing, and keeping their +national customs and character almost unchanged. In the mission-house, +however, a few children were brought up by the priests with the greatest +care,—probably because it was by means of these boys, that they hoped +more effectually to civilize the whole tribe. At any rate, they taught +them all that they could have taught Europeans; having them completely +in their own hands, there was no difficulty about this, and the more +intelligent among them became good scholars. There was one boy, however, +who distinguished himself above the rest, and was naturally the pride +and favourite of the mission. He was an orphan, whom they had named +Christian, and whom they were turning expressly for a priest. But when +Christian was about sixteen, the mission was for the first time +disturbed. Some Protestant missionaries invaded the island itself, and +built their house close to the Indian wigwams. They spoke the language +sufficiently to be understood, and took every means of making themselves +acceptable to the people. They were men of great fervour and +earnestness, and to the Indian senses, their religion, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> its +abundant hymns, and exclamatory prayers, had an attraction greater than +that of the more decorous service to which they were accustomed. One by +one, the so-called converts left the Jesuit church, and were +re-converted with great acclamation. But when the infection reached +their own pupils, their own particular and beloved flock, the priests +were in despair; and the very first of their children to leave them, was +Christian. He had been, for some time, tired of the sober and +self-denying life which he was obliged to lead; and having gained all +the advantages the priests could give him, and knowing that his +profession of Protestantism would be hailed with the greatest joy by the +new missionaries, he went to them, and so succeeded in persuading them +of his sincerity, that he became as great a favourite as he had before +been with his old teachers. The Jesuits, soon after, finding themselves +almost entirely abandoned, gave up their mission and left the field to +their opponents. How Christian spent the next few years it is not easy +to tell. From the missionaries he learned to speak English perfectly +well, and was for a time master of a school, which they established for +the Indian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> children; but he lost their favour by the very same means by +which he gained it. He was insincere in everything, and as he frequently +visited both banks of the river, and was trusted to execute commissions +for them, he had many opportunities for deceiving them. At last, he left +the island altogether and joined a party of smugglers. With them he must +have remained some time; but he had left them also and returned to the +island, when Bailey came to the neighbourhood. They soon became +acquainted; and Bailey, finding how exactly Christian suited his +purpose, spared no pains to persuade him to join in collecting a +sufficient number of his people for the expedition. In this he +succeeded; but Christian was not to be imposed upon, and refused to stir +in the matter, without an engagement from Bailey to pay him a +considerable sum, on their return to Canada. Bailey was obliged to +yield, and the agreement was signed, with a fixed determination to avoid +keeping it, if possible. The other Indians were found without much +trouble among those on the island, who, in spite of their change of +teachers, were still in the same half-savage or more than half-savage +state. A bad hunting season had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> reduced them to great misery, and a +dozen of them were willing enough to undertake the voyage under the +guidance of Christian, whose education had given him a kind of +ascendancy to which he had no other claim, for the chieftainship, with +which Bailey chose to invest him, was purely imaginary. Christian was a +natural actor. Bailey understood perfectly what would suit the popular +idea of an Indian chief, and the story which he intended to tell, so +that, together, they succeeded admirably. They made a profitable tour, +and their success culminated in London when they began to count leaders +of fashion among their dupes.</p> + +<p>It was at this moment of their success, that accident threw in their way +a girl who was evidently well-born and susceptible, and whom a few +inquiries proved to be an heiress. At first, Bailey had had some thought +of himself winning this prize; but he had wit enough to see that he +would not succeed, and that Christian might, which would be equally to +his advantage. Christian cared little about it, but he let Bailey guide +him, and so the prey fell into their hands.</p> + +<p>So far, the story told had been intensely personal, and of the kind +which must inevitably be coloured by the teller. From this point, Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +Costello was no longer leading her daughter through places and scenes +entirely strange. She paused, and faltered, yet began again with a sense +of having surmounted her greatest difficulties, and from hence is +perhaps the best narrator of her own life.</p> + +<p>"When I found out," she went on, "how different the reality was from my +dreams, I took no care to hide, either from Bailey or my husband, the +horror I began to feel for them both. Christian took my reproaches +carelessly—his education had not prevented him from regarding women as +other Indians do—to him I was merely his squaw, the chief and most +useful of his possessions, and it made no difference to him whether I +was contented with my position or not. But Bailey was not quite so +insensible; and when I spoke to him with the same bitterness as to my +husband, he retorted, and took trouble to show me how my own folly had +been as much to blame as their schemes, in drawing me into such a +marriage. He explained to me precisely how, and why, I had been +entrapped, and made me perceive that I was utterly helpless in their +hands. There came, about the middle of our voyage, a time when I sunk +into a kind of stupor; worn out with the misery of my disappointment, I +gave up my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> whole mind to a gloomy passiveness. Morning after morning I +crept out on deck, and sat all day leaning against the bulwarks, with a +cloak drawn round me, seeing nothing but the waves and sky, and +indifferent to wind or rain, or the hot sun which sometimes shone on me. +All this time I had taken no notice of the Indians, who for their part +avoided me, and left me a portion of the deck always undisturbed. But +one day as I sat as usual vacantly looking out to sea, I was disturbed +by the cries of a child. The babies, although there were four or five in +the party, were usually so quiet that the sound surprised me. I looked +round, and saw the women gathered together in a group, consulting over +the child, which still cried as if in violent pain. At last I got up, +and went to the place, where I found that the poor little creature, a +girl of about a year old, had fallen down a hatchway and broken her arm. +She had lost her mother in England, and was in the care of an elder +sister, who hung over her in the greatest distress, while the other +women were preparing to bandage the arm. I had had no idea till then how +wretchedly these poor creatures were huddled together, without even such +comforts as they were used to; but when I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> found that it was impossible +for the sick child to be cared for in the miserable place where they +lived, I began to come to myself a little, or rather to forget myself, +and contrive something to help others.</p> + +<p>"The child's sister, Mary, spoke a little French, so that we could +manage to understand each other; and with shawls and pillows, we made a +comfortable little bed, in an unoccupied space close to my cabin. There +we nursed the poor little creature, which got well wonderfully soon, and +Mary became my firm and faithful friend. It was she whom you saw a few +weeks ago, when she came, hoping to bring me a useful warning.</p> + +<p>"We were six weeks at sea; and when we reached Quebec, and had to take +the steamboats, a new kind of misery began for me. I shrank from the +sight of our fellow-passengers, for I felt that wherever we went, they +looked at me curiously, and sometimes I heard remarks and speculations, +which seemed to carry the sense of degradation to my very heart. But +Mary and her little sister had done me good. I had already lost some of +my pride, and began to remember that, however I might repent my +marriage, I had entered into it of my own will, and could not now free +myself either from its ties or duties. My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> husband seemed pleased with +my change of manner towards him; he was not unkind, and I hoped that +perhaps when we reached his own tribe, and I had a home to care for, my +life might not yet be so hopelessly wretched as it appeared at first.</p> + +<p>"The last part of our journey was made in waggons. When we were within a +few hours' distance of Moose Island the others went on, while Bailey, +Christian, and I, remained at a small wayside tavern. It was a wretched +place, but they gave me a small room where I could be alone, and try to +rest. The one adjoining it was Bailey's, and late in the evening I heard +him and Christian go into it together. The partition was so thin that +their voices reached me quite distinctly, and I soon found that they +were disputing about something. From the day when, on board ship, Bailey +had told me how they had entrapped me simply for the money to which I +was entitled, there had never been any allusion made, in my presence, to +the profit they expected to make of me. I could hear now, however, as +their voices grew louder, that this was the cause of their dispute. I +caught only broken sentences, and never knew how the quarrel ended, for +in the morning Bailey was gone, and I had learned already that it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +useless to question Christian. I had written from Quebec to my father. +The only answer I received was through his solicitor, who formally made +over to me all my mother's fortune; but, of course, this did not happen +until some weeks after our arrival at Moose Island.</p> + +<p>"We remained three or four days at the tavern, and then removed to the +island, where a small log-house had been got ready for me. It was clean +and neat, though not better than the cottages of many farm-labourers in +England, and I was so humbled that I never thought of complaining. It +stood on a small marshy promontory at one end of the island, at a +considerable distance from the village, and was more accessible by land +than by water.</p> + +<p>"In that house, Lucia, you were born; but not until three years of +solitude, terror, and misery had almost broken my heart.</p> + +<p>"As soon as ever we were settled in our home, which I tried to make +comfortable and inviting according to my English ideas, Christian +returned to the wandering and dissipated life he had led in the last few +years before his journey to England. He was often away from me for many +days without my knowing where he was, and I only heard from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> others, +vague stories of his spending nights and days, drinking and gambling, on +the American side of the river. At first, he always came back sober, and +in good humour, and never left me without sufficient money for the few +expenses which were necessary; but within six months this changed, and I +began to suffer, not only from ill-usage, but from want.</p> + +<p>"The missionaries, of whom I told you, were still on the island when I +arrived there; but although they pitied, and were disposed to be kind to +me, I could not bear to complain to them, or to make my story a subject +for missionary reports and speeches. You see I had a little pride still, +but I do not know whether it would not have yielded to the dreadful need +for a friend of my own race, if events had not brought me one whom you +know, Mr. Strafford.</p> + +<p>"Although the island was large enough to have maintained the whole +Indian population by farming, it remained, when I came there, entirely +uncultivated, and hunting and fishing were still the only means the +people had of supporting themselves. The consequence was, that at times +they suffered greatly from scarcity of provisions, and this naturally +brought disease. The year after my marriage was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> a bad one, and the +women and children especially felt the want of their usual supplies. A +great many of them left the island, and tried to find food by begging, +or by selling mats, and baskets, at the nearest settlements. The misery +of these poor creatures attracted attention, and people began to wonder +why, since they were Christians, and had received some degree of +teaching, they were still so ignorant of the means of living. The answer +was easy. The missionaries who had taught them were as ignorant as +themselves of these things; and, indeed, had not thought it necessary to +civilize while they Christianized them. Mr. Strafford had then lately +arrived in the country. He held different views to those of the +missionaries, and, pitying the forlorn condition of the islanders, he +offered to come and help them. Almost the first sensation of gladness I +remember feeling, from the day I left my father's house, was when I +heard that a clergyman of our own Church was to be settled among my poor +neighbours."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>"Mr. Strafford had been some little time on the island before he saw me. +I had seen him, however, and I dare say you will understand how the +expression of his face, the honest, manly, kindly look you have often +admired, filled me with indescribable consolation, for I felt that there +would be near me, in future, a countryman on whose counsel and help I +could rely, if I should be driven to extremity. I waited without any +impatience for the visit which he was sure to pay me. Mary, my best +friend, had lately married a young Indian, who had spent much of his +life among Europeans, and who was now employed by Mr. Strafford to teach +him the Ojibway language, and, in the meantime, to act as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> interpreter +for him. Through Mary and her husband, Henry Wanita, I knew he would +hear of me and be sure to seek me out. I was right; he came one day when +I was, as usual, alone, and before he left I had told him as much of my +story as I could tell to any one, except to you. I expected that he +would pity me, and that his pity would have a little contempt mixed with +it, and I had made up my mind to endure the bitterness of this, for the +sake of establishing that claim upon his advice and aid, which I was +certain, after the first shock of such a confession, my wretchedness +would give me. But he had not one word of reproof to say; either he had +heard, or he guessed that my fault had brought its full measure of +punishment, and that what I needed was rather consolation than reproach. +He went away and left me, as he often left me afterwards, with courage +and patience renewed for the hard struggle of my life.</p> + +<p>"My husband had lately been more than ever away; and though in his +absence I had often the greatest difficulty to obtain food, or any kind +of necessaries, yet I was thankful for the peace in which I could then +live. I learned to embroider in the Indian fashion, and was able to +repay the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> kindness I received from Mary, and some of the other squaws, +by drawing patterns for them, and by teaching them how to make more +comfortable clothes for themselves and their children. After Mr. +Strafford had been a little while on the island, he proposed to +establish a school for this kind of work, and I became the mistress. The +women and girls came to me more readily than they would have done to a +stranger, and I soon had a good number of pupils.</p> + +<p>"Several months passed, after Mr. Strafford's coming, without anything +new occurring. Then Christian returned from the States, where he had +been for a longer time than usual. He came late at night, and so +intoxicated that I was obliged to go myself and fasten the canoe, which +would have floated away before morning. When I followed him into the +house he was already fast asleep, and it was not till the next day that +I knew what had brought him home. Then he told me. What I +understood—for he said as little as possible on the subject—was, that +he had been for the last few weeks in the company of a party of +gamblers, to whom he had lost everything he possessed, and, finally, +that having found means of raising money upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> security of the whole +fortune to which I was entitled, he had lost that too, and consequently +we remained penniless. This much I heard with indifference; the money he +received had never benefited me, and had only given him the means for a +life you cannot imagine, and which I could not, if I would, describe to +you; but when he ended by telling me that, as all my relations were +rich, I must contrive to get fresh supplies from some of them, my +patience gave way altogether. Even my fear of him yielded to my anger; +for the first time since our arrival in Canada I spoke to him with all +the bitterness I felt. A horrible scene followed—he threatened to kill +me, and I believe would have done it but for the hope of yet obtaining +money by my means. I tried to escape, but could not; and, at last, when +he was tired of torturing me, he took off a long red sash which he wore, +and tied me to the bed. There, Lucia, for four-and-twenty hours he kept +me a prisoner, standing in a constrained attitude, without rest or food. +How I endured so long without fainting, I do not know; fear of something +worse must have given me unnatural strength, for he never left the +house, but spent the early part of the day in searching all my cupboards +and boxes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> for money or anything worth money, and the later part in +drinking. Mr. Strafford had gone over to the Canadian shore, or +probably, missing me from the school, he would have come in search of +me. Mary did come, but at the sight of my husband, she went away without +knowing anything of me. All night he sat drinking, for he had brought a +quantity of whisky home some time before, and towards morning he lay +down for a while, but so that I could not move without disturbing him. +After two or three hours' sleep he got up and went away, leaving me +still tied, and telling me I had better think of what he had said, and +make up my mind to get money in some way. When I heard the sound of his +paddle, and knew that he was really gone, the force that had sustained +me gave way; I fainted, and in falling, the sash happily broke, though +not until one of my wrists was badly sprained. The pain of my wrist +brought me back to consciousness. As soon as I could, I wrapped myself +in a shawl and went to Mary's cottage, to ask her to bandage it for me, +and to take my excuses to the school, where I was quite unable to go +that day.</p> + +<p>"No one, not even Mr. Strafford, knew the cause<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> of my sprained wrist, +or the conduct of my husband that day and night, but it was impossible +that when such scenes were repeated again and again, they should not +become known. And they were repeated so often and so dreadfully, that +only the feeling that I endured the just penalty of my own conduct, +enabled me to bear the perpetual suffering. At last, even Christian saw +that I could not live long if I had not some respite. Perhaps he had a +little pity for me; perhaps he only thought still of gain. At any rate, +he became less cruel, and my health returned. Again something like a +calm came over my life, and I began to feel hopeful once more. The next +spring you, Lucia, my light and comfort, were born, and from that time I +had double cause both for hope and fear. The birth of a daughter, +however, is no cause of joy to an Indian father; if you had been a boy +you would have been (or so I fancy) far less consolation to me, but to +Christian you would have been more welcome. He was with me when you were +born, but the very next day he left the island for three or four weeks, +and from the time of his next return all my former sufferings +recommenced. Often in terror for your life, I carried you to Mary Wanita +and implored her to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> keep you until your father was gone; and even in +his absence I scarcely dared to fall asleep with you in my arms, lest he +should come in unexpectedly and snatch you from me.</p> + +<p>"When you were about a year old Mr. Strafford married. His wife, who had +already heard of me before her marriage, became the dearest of friends +to me; with her I could always leave you in safety, and with her I began +to feel again the solace of female society and sympathy. She is dead, as +you know, long ago, and her little daughter died at the same time, of a +fever which broke out on the island two or three years after we left it.</p> + +<p>"Two years passed after your birth, and things had gone on in much the +same way. My husband never ceased to urge me to try to obtain money from +England, and in the meantime he continually took from me the little I +could earn by my work, for which Mrs. Strafford found me a sale in +different towns of the province.</p> + +<p>"Do not misjudge me, Lucia. I tell you these things only to justify what +I did later, and my long concealment even from you of the truth of my +history.</p> + +<p>"But when you were about two years old your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> father left the island, and +did not return. The longest stay he had ever made before was a month, +and when two passed, and I neither saw nor heard of him, I began to feel +uneasy. Mr. Strafford made many inquiries for me, but we only heard of +his having been seen shortly after he left home, and quite failed in +learning where he had gone. Time went on, and, after the first anxious +and troubled feelings passed off, I allowed myself to enjoy the +undisturbed quiet, and to be happy as any other mother might be with her +child. I had a whole year of such peace; you grew hardy and merry, and +were the pet and plaything of the whole village, learning to talk the +strangest mixed language, and showing at that time none of the terror of +Indians which I have seen in you since then.</p> + +<p>"But at the end of a year our respite ended. One day when I had been at +the school, and you with me, I was surprised on my return home to see +the door of the house open, and some men sitting at my table. I hurried +on, and walked into the room before they were aware of my coming. There +were four of them, two Indians and two who were either white or of mixed +race; but it was only by his voice, and that after a moment's pause, +that I could re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>cognize my husband. My husband! never till then had I +known the full horror that word could convey. Remember that long ago I +had been charmed, had fallen in love, as girls say, with one who seemed +to represent the very perfection and ideal of manly beauty; that this +beauty and stateliness of outward form had been so great that I took it +for the truthful expression of such a nature as I thought most +heroic—remember this, and then think of what I saw after this year of +absence. A bloated, degraded, horrible creature—not even a man, but a +brute, raving half deliriously, and still drinking, while his +companions, little more sober than himself, made him the subject of +their jests and jeers. I held my little innocent child in my arms while +I saw this, and for the first time, and for her sake, I felt a bitter +hatred rise up in my heart against her father."</p> + +<p>A strong shudder crept over Mrs. Costello; she covered her face with her +hands for a moment, while Lucia drew more closely to her side. Presently +she went on. "A cry from you, my child, drew the men's attention to us. +'Here's your squaw,' one of them said to Christian, who tried to get up, +but could not. I saw that it was useless to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> speak to him, and turned to +leave the house, intending to ask shelter from Mrs. Strafford or Mary, +but before I could pass the door one of the strangers shut and bolted +it, while another seized and held me fast. They made me sit down at the +table; they tried to drag you out of my arms, and failing in that, to +make you swallow some of the whisky they were drinking. I defended you +as well as I could. In my terror and despair I watched for the time when +they should all become as helpless as the miserable creature who had +brought them there; but it was long to wait. Lucia, those hours when I +saw myself and you at the mercy of these wretches were like years of +agony. They saw my fear, however I might try to disguise it, and +delighted in the torment I suffered. They tried again and again to take +you from me; they threatened us both with every imaginable horror; till +I thought night would have quite closed in before their drinking would +end in complete intoxication. At length, at length, it did. One had +fallen asleep; the other two were quarrelling feebly, when I ventured to +move. They tried to get up, to stop me; but I drew the bolt, and fled +into the darkness where I knew they could not follow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reached Mr. Strafford's door, and we were received with all kindness; +but the fright, the sudden exposure to cold night air, after being for +so many hours shut up in a stifling room, and perhaps, added to all a +few drops of spirit which had been forced into your mouth, brought on +you a sudden, and to me most terrible, illness. It was your first; I had +never seen you suffer, and I thought you would die; that God would take +you from me as the last and crowning punishment for my disobedience. In +the great anguish of this idea, I wrote to my father—wrote by your +bedside while you slept, and confessing all my folly, implored his +forgiveness, as if that would preserve my child's life. You recovered, +and in my joy I almost forgot that the letter had been written. While +you lay ill, the Straffords concealed from me that my husband had been +to the house demanding my return home; but when you were almost well, +they told me not only this, but that he had declared in the village that +he would punish us both for our flight. It was then that Mr. Strafford +recommended me to think seriously of a final escape.</p> + +<p>"'It is evident,' he said, 'that you neither can, nor ought, to put +yourself and your child again into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> his power—while you remain on the +island it must be here; but I strongly advise you to return to England, +or conceal yourself from him in some way.'</p> + +<p>"I gratefully accepted his invitation to remain for a little while at +his house—the rest of his plan could not be hastily decided upon; and +while I deliberated, a letter arrived from England. Mr. Strafford, on +hearing of the scene which ended in your illness, had carried out an +idea which, he afterwards told me, he had long entertained, and written +to my cousin George. The letter which now arrived was in answer to this, +though it contained an enclosure for me. My appeal to my father had been +made just in time; it reached him on his deathbed, and he forgave me. He +did more than that; he altered, at the very last, a will made many years +before, and left me an equal sum to that I had before inherited from my +mother, but with the condition that I should never return to England. +You understand now why, loving the dear old country as I still do, I +have always told you I should never see it again—to do so would be to +forfeit all our living, and more even than that, it would be to disobey +my father's last command.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> My cousin's note was as kind and brotherly as +if he had never had the least reason to complain of me. He told me that +he had married some years before a good woman who, I have since thought, +might have been his first choice if regard for my father's wishes had +not influenced him. At any rate, they were and, I hope, still are happy +together, filling my father and mother's places in the old home.</p> + +<p>"These letters made my way clearer. It was settled that I should take +advantage of Christian's absence (for he had again left the island) to +remove with you to the most secure hiding-place we could find, and as a +large town always offers the best means of concealment, we decided upon +Montreal. So after a residence of six years on the island, I left it at +last, carrying you with me and calling myself a widow. It was then that +I took the name of Costello. It was my mother's family name, and is +really, as you have always supposed, Spanish—my great-grandfather +having been a Spaniard. I gave you the name at your baptism, so that it +is really yours, though not mine.</p> + +<p>"For six months we remained in Montreal; but I had been so long used to +the silence and free air<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> of the island that my health failed in the +noisy town. I was seized with a terror of dying, and leaving you +unprotected, and therefore determined to try whether I could not remain +concealed equally well in the country. A chance made me think of this +neighbourhood, which, though rather too near my old home, was then very +retired, and not inhabited at all by Indians. I came up, found this +place for sale and bought it. There was only a very rough log-house upon +the ground, but I went into that until this cottage was ready, and here +you can remember almost all that has happened."</p> + +<p>Lucia raised her head as her mother finished speaking.</p> + +<p>"But—my father!" she said hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"I forgot." Mrs. Costello resumed. "Mr. Strafford kept me informed of +his movements for some time. He came back shortly after we had left the +island, and on finding us gone, he tried all means to discover where we +were. He actually traced us to Montreal, but there lost the clue, and +came back disappointed. For some years he continued to live much as he +had done ever since his return from England, frequently staying two or +three weeks on the island, and never forgetting to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> make some effort to +trace us. The perpetual terror I suffered during those years never +subsided. I feared to go outside of my own garden lest he should meet +and recognize me. At last Mr. Strafford sent me word that he had gone to +the Hudson's Bay Territory.</p> + +<p>"After that I began to feel that I was free, and from the time you were +nine until you were sixteen I had little immediate anxiety; then, as I +saw you growing up, I knew that the time when you must know your own +birth and my history drew very near, and the idea weighed on me +constantly. Other anxieties came too, and finally, worst of all, news +that Christian had returned."</p> + +<p>"And now," Lucia asked, "do you know where he is?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I have been warned that he is seeking for us. They say that we +have more reason than ever to fear him, and that he is looking for us in +this part of the province."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello's voice sunk almost to a whisper. She seemed to fancy that +the man she had so long escaped might be close at hand, and Lucia caught +the infection of her terror. They remained silent a minute, listening +fearfully to the light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> rustling of the leaves outside, as the breeze +stirred them.</p> + +<p>"Mother," Lucia said at last, "how soon can we leave here?"</p> + +<p>"I have thought much of that," Mrs. Costello answered, "but we have ties +here too strong to be broken suddenly; and, indeed, a hasty removal +might but draw upon us the very notice we wish to avoid."</p> + +<p>"We must go soon though, as soon as possible. Oh! mamma, I could not +bear to stay here now."</p> + +<p>It was a cry of impatience—of acute pain—the child had suddenly turned +back from her mother's story to her own trial and loss. Love, happiness, +two hours ago clasped to her heart, and now torn from her pitilessly; +for a moment she was all rebellion at the thought—she, at least, had +not sinned, why should she suffer? Yet in her heart she knew that she +must; she saw the one path clear before her, and felt that the time for +acting was now; the time for grieving must come after. She rose, and +walked up and down the room, gathering her strength and courage as she +could.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last she stopped in front of her mother's chair. Her face was pale, +but so steady and composed that its girlishness seemed gone—she looked, +what she would be from that time, a woman able to endure, and resolute +to act.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she said quietly, "Mr. Percy is coming to-morrow morning. He +is coming to see you, but I would rather speak to him myself. There is +no need that he should know anything whatever—of my father, or of what +you have told me—we shall never see him again."</p> + +<p>Except once, there was neither hesitation nor faltering in her voice, +but her meaning could not be misunderstood. For a moment Mrs. Costello +felt her convictions and her judgment shaken; if, after all, this love, +which Lucia was about to lose, should be true and perfect? if Percy +should be capable of knowing all, and yet cherishing and prizing her? +Ought pride, ought her own opinion of him, to stand between her child +and possible happiness and safety?</p> + +<p>But she saw in Lucia's face that underneath all her love, the same +feeling, that his would not stand this shock, lay deep in her heart, and +the doubt died away as suddenly as it had risen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do as you will, my child," she said. "But think well first. I, who have +failed where I most desired to succeed, cannot venture now to advise +you."</p> + +<p>Lucia bent down and kissed her. "Poor mother!" she said tenderly, "you +have thought too much for me, and I have never known what a burden I was +to you. But we shall do better in future—when we are far away and have +begun life again."</p> + +<p>The hopeful words sounded very dreary in the sweet young voice, which +seemed to have changed its tone, and taken the low mournful intonation +of her Indian race; but she moved calmly away, replaced the contents of +the desk with care, and closed and locked it. Then she gave the key to +her mother, and bent over her again to say good-night.</p> + +<p>There were no more words spoken between them. A long kiss, and they +separated. But for the first time Mrs. Costello did not visit her +daughter's room—she guessed that a battle had to be fought there in +solitude, and that hers was not the only vigil kept that night. So the +two watched apart; and the dawn, which was not far distant when they +bade each other good-night, came in and found them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> both looking out +with sleepless eyes at the grey sky and the familiar landscape, from +which they were each planning to escape for ever.</p> + +<p>But as the sky reddened, Lucia remembered that her sleepless night would +leave traces which she wished to avoid, in her pale cheeks and heavy +eyes. She lay down therefore, and at last fell asleep. Her over-excited +brain, however, could not rest; the most troubled and fantastic dreams +came to her,—her mother, Mary Wanita, Percy, Maurice, and many other +persons seemed to surround her—but in every change of scene there +appeared the shadowy figure of her father, constantly working or +threatening harm. Sometimes she saw him as he looked in his portrait, +and shrank from him as a kind of evil genius, beautiful and yet +terrible—sometimes like the Indian who had met her by the river, a +hideous, scarcely human object. Then, last of all, she saw him +distinctly, as the scene her mother had described, the last time when +she had really seen him, came before her, not by the power of +imagination but of memory. For, waking up, she knew that, impressed upon +her childish recollection by terror, that scene had never been entirely +forgotten. Having no clue to its reality, she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> always supposed it to +be a dream; but now as it came back with some degree of vividness, she +saw plainly the face which was neither that of the likeness nor that of +her assailant, but might well be a link between the two—the same face +in transition.</p> + +<p>The idea was too horrible. She rose, and tried by hurried dressing to +drive it from her mind; but it returned persistently. She went, at last, +to her looking-glass and looked into it with a terror of herself. Never +was ugliness so hateful as the beauty she saw there. For there could be +no doubt about this, at least; except for the softening into womanly +traits, and for a slightly fairer complexion, the picture her glass +showed her was a faithful copy of that other, which she had seen for the +first time last night. What beauty her mother had ever possessed had +been thoroughly English in its character—hers was wholly Indian. She +turned away with a feeling of loathing for herself, and a fearful glance +into her heart as if to seek there also for some proof of this hateful +birthright.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>When Mr. Percy left Lucia standing at the gate, and began his solitary +walk back to Cacouna, he was almost as happy as she was. A kind of +intoxication had swept away out of his very recollection the selfishness +and policy of his habitual humour,—all that was youthful, generous, and +impulsive in him had sprung suddenly to the surface, and so for the +moment transformed him, that he was literally a different man to what he +had ever been before. He pictured to himself the lovely bright face of +the young girl as his daily companion—a Utopian vision of a small home +where he was to be content with her society, and she with his, and where +by some magic or other everything was to be arranged for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> them with an +elegant simplicity which he, for that moment, forgot would be expensive +to maintain, rose before his eyes; and he had almost reached his +cousin's house, before this extraordinary hallucination began to yield a +little, and his dreams to be interspersed with recollections of an empty +purse and an angry father.</p> + +<p>Alas! the wife and the home were but visions—the empty purse and the +angry father were realities. That very morning a letter from the Earl +had brought him a severe lecture on the folly of his delay in Canada; +there was a sharp passage in it too about Lady Adeliza, who seemed to be +in danger of deserting her truant admirer for one more assiduous. But +indeed it was useless to think of Lady Adeliza now, for whatever might +happen he was pledged to Lucia, and it would be well if her ladyship did +really relieve him by accepting somebody else. Whether she did or no, +however, he felt that his conduct towards her would furnish his father +with sufficient cause for a quarrel, even without the added enormity of +presenting to him a penniless daughter-in-law, who had not even family +influence for a dower.</p> + +<p>Poor Mr. Percy! he went into the house in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> grievous perplexity. Very +much in love, more so than anybody, even himself, would have supposed +possible, but very much doubting already whether the doings of the last +hour or two had not been of a suicidal character, he tried to solve his +difficulties by laying the whole blame upon fate. But to blame fate is +not enough to repair the mischief she may have done; and though he +succeeded in putting off his anxieties, so as not to let them be evident +during the remainder of the evening, they returned with double force as +soon as he was alone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy naturally hated thinking; he hated trouble, and it was +troublesome to think. Perhaps it was more troublesome to him than to +other people; for, to confess the truth, he had not more than a very +ordinary allowance of brains, and those he had were not accustomed to +have sudden calls upon them. So he sat and pondered slowly, starting +from the one or two points which were clear to him, and trying, without +much success, to make out a map of the future from these slight +indications. First of all, if was clear and evident that he was engaged +to Lucia; he stopped a moment there to think of her, and that she was +certainly a prize in the lottery of life, so beautiful, gracious, and +devoted to him as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> she was; but he had not the smallest uncertainty +about Mrs. Costello's consent, so never glanced towards any possible +missing of the prize. That was all very well, <i>very</i> well, at present, +though undeniably it would have been better if Lucia could have had Lady +Adeliza's advantages. Ah! that was the next step. There was Lady Adeliza +to be got rid of—if she did not herself, take the initiative—and that +was not a pleasant affair. He had only been extremely attentive to her, +that was the utmost anybody could say; but then there was his +father—the two fathers, indeed, for he had good reason to believe that +the Earl had not urged him to pay his suit to the lady without pretty +good cause for counting on the approval of her family. It was a dreadful +bore; and then there could be no doubt that by displeasing at a blow his +own father and Lady Adeliza's, he was forfeiting his best if not his +only chance of success in life. Altogether, the more he looked at the +prospect the gloomier it grew, and at last he got up impatiently and put +an end to his cogitations.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to turn backwoodsman at once," he said to himself, "or +miner, like those fellows we saw at the Sault."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>In spite of his confidence in himself and in Lucia, it was not without a +little tremor that Mr. Percy walked up to the Cottage next morning. He +began to feel that there really might be some difficulty in persuading a +mother to give up her only child to the care of a man who was not only +poor, but likely to remain so, who could not even give her the hope of +independence such as might fall to the lot of the backwoodsman or miner. +But he kept up his courage as well as he could, and was very little +disturbed out of his usual manner when he followed Margery into the +small parlour. The room was empty; and in a little surprise—for he +expected Lucia would have prepared her mother for his coming—he walked +to the window and looked out on to the verandah. There was no one there, +nor in the garden, but the sound of a door opening made him turn round, +as Lucia, instead of Mrs. Costello, came in.</p> + +<p>As they met he saw a change in her. A crimson colour had rushed to her +face for a moment when she came in, but in a moment faded to the most +complete pallor. There was not a sign of her usual shy grace or timid +welcome: she was cold, erect, and composed, nothing more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>She gave him her hand, and said,</p> + +<p>"My mother is not well. I must speak to you for her, Mr. Percy, and for +myself."</p> + +<p>"But Lucia!" he cried. "What is this? What is the matter? Have you +forgotten last night?"</p> + +<p>Her quiet was shaken for a moment.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," she answered. "No. I shall never forget last night."</p> + +<p>"You have surely forgotten what I came for this morning then," he said +placing a chair for her. "Sit down and tell me what is wrong, for +something is." His tone, his look, so utterly unsuspicious of anything +that could come between them in this trouble of hers, were hard to bear. +But she had to speak.</p> + +<p>"Something is wrong at present," she said steadily; "but we can set it +right. I made a terrible mistake last night. You must go away and forget +all we said to each other."</p> + +<p>He looked at her incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Explain," he said.</p> + +<p>She had to pause for a moment. If it were but over!</p> + +<p>"Pray believe what I say," she answered, forming the words slowly and +with difficulty. "I found out last night after you had gone away that it +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> a mistake and a wrong—that you could not marry me, nor I you. Do +you understand?"</p> + +<p>"No, by heaven!" he cried. "If this is a jest—but it does not look like +one. Did you mean what you said last night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. I meant it then. See, I am a true woman. I have changed my +mind already."</p> + +<p>There was a bitter tone of jesting now, for she caught at any means of +keeping down the sobs which would rise in her throat. He took her hand +in a hard grasp.</p> + +<p>"Look at me honestly and say what you mean; I am neither to be offended +nor made a fool of. I want to know why you make a promise one day and +try to break it the next?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a moment, and then let her eyes fall with a heavy +sigh.</p> + +<p>"I hoped you would have been satisfied," she said, "to know that our +engagement is broken; but it is true, you have a right to know more. I +told you last night that I had no fortune. To-day I tell you that I have +a portion you would never endure to receive with your wife, and which no +man shall receive with me—disgrace."</p> + +<p>She covered her face with her hands as she said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> the last word, and he +could see nevertheless how the hot flush of shame rose to her forehead. +He started, and involuntarily moved a step away from her. She was +conscious of the movement, and raised her head proudly.</p> + +<p>"How or in what way I should disgrace you," she went on, "I need not +tell you—it is enough that you are satisfied that there is a bar +between us." But he had recovered from his first surprise, and was in no +mood to be so easily satisfied.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," he said. "Disgrace is a terrible word; but how do I +know that you are not frightening yourself and me with a shadow? Be +reasonable, Lucia; you are suffering, I can see. Put aside this manner, +which is so unlike yourself, and tell me what troubles you, and let me +judge."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if I could!" she cried, with a passionate longing breaking through +all her self-restraint. She was trembling with excitement and the strain +upon her nerves; and as she felt his arm put round her, it seemed for +one second incredible that she must put its support away from her for +ever. But she conquered herself, and spoke more resolutely than before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is no shadow that I fear, but a calamity which has fallen upon us. I +thought yesterday that I was not very far beneath you in birth, and that +there could be no greater difficulties in our way than patience might +overcome; but that was because I did not know. I am not your equal. I am +no one's equal in the world—no one's that I could marry. I shall be +always alone, and apart from other people in my heart, however they may +see no difference; and if I cared for you a thousand times more than I +do, I should only have a thousand more reasons for telling you to go +away, and never think of me again."</p> + +<p>"You dismiss me, then? Of your own free will, Lucia?"</p> + +<p>"Of my own free will."</p> + +<p>"And you will not tell me this strange secret which has changed you so?"</p> + +<p>"No; there is no need."</p> + +<p>"No need truly, if we are to part in this way. But you see that there is +something romantic and unreal about the whole thing. I don't yet +understand."</p> + +<p>"No; how should you?" she said, half to herself. "I hardly can myself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let me see your mother. I will come again, though my time is short."</p> + +<p>"You need not. Mamma approves of what I say. Indeed, I cannot bear any +more. Let me go. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She was growing of a more deathly paleness every moment, and the hand +she offered him was cold as ice.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, then," he replied. "I am to consider all the past as a +pleasant dream, am I?"</p> + +<p>She raised her heavy, aching eyes to his face. His reproaches, if he had +any to make, died away before that look, which betrayed endurance, taxed +to the utmost—a burden on her own heart far heavier than that she laid +on his. He held her hand for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," he repeated; "but I can't give you up so readily. +Think over all this again, and if you find that you have decided too +hastily, send me one line to say so; but it must be to-day. If I hear +nothing from you, I shall leave Cacouna to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered passively. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She stood without moving until the sound of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> gate assured her that +he was gone; then she sank down on the floor, not fainting nor weeping, +but utterly exhausted. There her mother found her in a strange, heavy +stupor, beyond tears or thought, and lifted her up, and made her lie +down on her bed, where she fell into a heavy sleep, and woke in a new +world, where everything seemed cold and dark, because hope and love had +left her when she entered it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Percy went back to Cacouna in greater perplexity than he had left +it; nay, not merely in perplexity, but in real pain and mortification. +If he had not seen plainly that Lucia was suffering bitterly, he would +have been much more angry and less sorry; but, as it was, the whole +thing was a mystery. Somehow he was very slow to believe that +disgrace—any disgrace he could comprehend—really attached to her; his +first idea, that she was making a great matter out of some trifle or +mistake, had not yet left him, and he wished heartily that he could get +at the truth, and see whether it was the insuperable obstacle she +fancied it. He thought Mrs. Bellairs might help him in solving the +question. He knew quite well that she was not particularly pleased with +his attentions to Lucia, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> she was both sensible and kind-hearted, +and, when she knew how far matters had gone, he did not doubt that she +would do what she could to save them both from a painful +misunderstanding. But no sooner had he quickened his steps with the idea +of immediately seeking her advice, than he began to reflect that Lucia +had said she herself had been ignorant of any reason for acting as she +had just done until last night; it was, therefore, very unlikely that +Mrs. Bellairs, dear friend though she was, knew anything of this matter. +And if there was a family secret, what right had he to betray it?</p> + +<p>He gave up, therefore, this hope, and tried to content himself with the +other, on which, however, he placed little reliance, that Lucia herself +might recall him before the day was over. In the almost certainty that +he had lost her, it was strange how completely he again forgot the +difficulties that had troubled him before, and thought simply of her. At +that moment he would willingly have sacrificed everything he <i>could</i> +sacrifice for the knowledge that her secret was only a phantom, and that +she was really to be his wife. Of course such a mood could not last. As +evening drew on, and there was no word or sign from the Cottage, he +began to feel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> angry both with Lucia and himself; and at night, when he +had announced to his host and hostess that he should leave them by the +next day's boat, he had made another step, and begun to think it +possible that this state of affairs was better and more sensible than if +he had been successful in his plan for delaying his journey a little +longer and taking a bride home with him. After all, he concluded, this +might only be a delay. If Lucia had refused to marry him, she had also +declared that she would not marry at all. She meant, therefore, to +remain free, and a year hence perhaps all might yet come right. If she +cared for him, she would have come to her senses by that time, and be +more able to judge whether they really must remain apart or not.</p> + +<p>But early in the morning, when he woke, and remembered that it was the +last time he would wake in her neighbourhood, he was seized with an +unconquerable longing to see her again, however fruitlessly. He stole +out softly, and walked to the Cottage. He knew that Lucia often worked +among her flowers early, and guessed that that morning she would not be +likely to sleep. He looked eagerly into the garden. She was not there, +but he caught the flutter of her dress on the verandah; and thus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +encouraged, he walked to the door boldly and knocked; but Lucia had seen +him also. She hurried to her own room. And when Margery, much amazed, +came to tell her that Mr. Percy was asking for her, she said quietly, +"Tell him that I have not left my room yet, and that I wish him a safe +and prosperous voyage." They were the first words she thought of, and +they sufficed. He went home, and commenced his preparations for +departure without further delay; by that means greatly contenting Mrs. +Bellairs, who at present wished for nothing so much as to be rid of her +handsome guest. She was very civil to him, however, in the prospect of +his going away, and the temptation to speak to her about Lucia again +beset him strongly. But then to tell her, or even hint to her ever so +slightly, that he had been rejected by a little simple Canadian girl, +was not so easy a matter to his masculine pride as it would have been +yesterday, so the time passed, and nothing was said.</p> + +<p>As the boat went down the river Mr. Percy stood on deck, and watched +anxiously for the Cottage, hoping to catch the flutter of a light dress, +and to know that Lucia saw him go. But all was still and seemingly +deserted; not a sign of her presence was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> visible, though he strained +his eyes to the last moment. Yet she was watching also. Wrapped in a +dark cloak, she stood among the trees, where she knew the shadows would +conceal her, and took that last look which she had not courage to forbid +herself. She put her arm round the slender trunk of an acacia tree, and, +leaning forward, followed the receding boat, with a sickening eagerness, +till it had completely disappeared; then her head sank for a moment +against the tree, with one bitter yet suppressed cry. Sorrow was so new +to her yet.</p> + +<p>Little had been said between the mother and daughter in this crisis of +Lucia's life. Mrs. Costello watched her child's pale and exhausted looks +with painful solicitude, but she knew that words were useless. There +was, therefore, neither complaint nor condolence; they went on with +their usual occupations, and spoke, though not much, of their usual +subjects. One thing, certainly, was different. Mrs. Costello went, +instead of Lucia, to pay the long daily visit to Mr. Leigh. She said she +wanted herself to have a consultation with him, about some small affairs +in which she had been used to consult him, and Lucia was thankful to be +spared, for one day, the danger of her old friend's scrutiny. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> on +the next day she went herself. A note from Mr. Strafford had reached +them, accounting for his delay, and saying that he would arrive that +evening, the very evening of Mr. Percy's departure, and she wished to go +with her new self into more familiar company before facing one who, +though so closely connected with the secret of her life, was almost a +stranger to her.</p> + +<p>She took with her a new book, and contrived as soon as possible to read +instead of talking. It required less effort, and while she read, her +mind could go back to the thoughts which were still in the stir and +commotion of their recent disturbance. But all her efforts could not +bring back to her face and voice the natural joyousness which had died +out of them. A stranger would have seen no signs of emotion or trouble +in her look and manner, but this was the utmost she could accomplish. To +familiar, and above all, to loving eyes, the change was as evident as it +was sorrowful; and Mr. Leigh speculated much on the subject. Guessing +more truly than perhaps others of her associates might do, he wrote to +Maurice that night that he feared some heavy trouble either threatened, +or had come upon Mrs. Costello<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> and Lucia. The same evening Mr. +Strafford came to the Cottage. It was a year since his last visit, and +the events which had taken place in the meantime made him even more than +usually welcome to Mrs. Costello. He scarcely needed to be told that +Lucia had now, at last, heard the story of her birth—he read it in her +face, and rejoiced that there was full confidence between mother and +daughter. As the three sat together round the fire—for the evenings +were already growing chilly, and the leaves in the garden began to +fall—they spoke together of the subject on which Mrs. Costello had been +so anxiously waiting her friend's counsel.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you are right," Mr. Strafford said. "The only way to avoid, +with certainty, any danger of meeting, is for you to leave Canada."</p> + +<p>"It is hard for both of us," Mrs. Costello answered. "Our little home is +very pleasant, and we have dear and kind friends here—but I see that we +must go."</p> + +<p>"Have you decided where to go to?"</p> + +<p>"No. That is one of the things I want you to decide for me."</p> + +<p>"You cannot bear to live in a large town?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Better now probably than I did years ago," Mrs. Costello said, with a +faint smile. "I am more used now to a civilized life than I was then."</p> + +<p>"I think your best security now, as then, would be found in a crowd—or +if you dislike that, you might travel from place to place for a time."</p> + +<p>"Are you strong enough for that, mamma?" asked Lucia. "If you are, it is +surely the best plan."</p> + +<p>"It is the best plan," Mrs. Costello answered, "because it would be a +sufficient reason for our leaving here. Only it is a strange time of +year to start on such a journey. We must go south, and my not being very +strong will be an additional excuse."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Mr. Strafford, "your absence need not be a long one. It +is quite probable, even now, that Christian may leave the neighbourhood +again."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say, 'even now?'"</p> + +<p>"Because he is so much changed that he appears almost incapable of +making many more long journeys."</p> + +<p>"You have seen him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I saw him twice. Once he came to my house. You are not afraid to hear +all I know?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. Pray go on."</p> + +<p>"A week or two after I first heard from Mary Wanita of his having +appeared on the island, he came one night to my house. As it happened, +we met at the door, and I was obliged to let him in. I saw, at once, +that he was frightfully changed even from what you remember him. I +should have said there was no danger at all to be feared from his +attempts to trace you, if I had not perceived that it had become a kind +of mania with him, and that his senses, which seem to be completely +dulled on other subjects, are still alive on that. He asked me many +questions; and although I told him plainly that I would answer none +whatever which concerned you, he persisted for a long time, and declared +that he knew both you and Lucia were living, and in Canada, and that he +meant to find you, and make you come back to the island. With that he +went away, and came to me no more; but I saw him one day that I was on +this side of the river, sitting in a tavern with some men who looked +like lumberers. I asked who they were, and heard that they were a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> gang +in the employ of a man who lives near Cacouna."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello drew a long breath,</p> + +<p>"Could he belong to the gang? In that case he might be near here at any +moment."</p> + +<p>"He did not then belong to them; but there were two or three other +Indians with them, and it struck me that, knowing the river and all the +creeks and small streams so well as he does, they would be not unlikely +to employ him. I could do nothing further then, however; and other +affairs have prevented me from tracing him since."</p> + +<p>Lucia had been listening with painful intenseness; Mr. Strafford's fears +confirmed her own.</p> + +<p>"There are four Indians employed now about the Mills at the other end of +the town," she said. "Two of them, I think, are quite young; the third I +have hardly seen, but the fourth—" she stopped and then went on +steadily, "the fourth looks an old man. He is a wretched object, drunken +and half idiotic."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford looked at her in wonder and trouble. How could he say to a +daughter, "You have described your father?" But he felt sure she had +done so; and he saw that she guessed it also.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had covered her face with her hands; and there was a +minute's silence. She was the first to break it.</p> + +<p>"We must go at once then," she said. "But how to get away from here +without a little delay I do not know."</p> + +<p>They wondered that she should speak so, knowing how great her terror of +discovery was; but she was thinking of Maurice, and of their last +conversation, of his father left in her charge, and of his grief and +perplexity if they should go away out of his knowledge, while he was +absent, and trusting to them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford saw, though he did not understand her hesitation.</p> + +<p>"It may be worth while," he said, "for me to run the risk of being seen, +and go to-morrow to the employer of these men. Nobody thinks of +questioning my right to make any inquires I please about Indians, so +that I can easily find out the truth, if you are willing to face the +possibility of my meeting Christian, and drawing his attention to you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello thought for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I thank you," she said. "I wish very much for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> a little delay if +possible. At the worst, if you do meet him, it will be only hasty +flight. Can you be prepared for that, Lucia?"</p> + +<p>"In an hour, mamma, if necessary. I only wish now to be far away from +here."</p> + +<p>Her mother's look rested on her sadly. "I do but ask for the delay of a +week or two," she said.</p> + +<p>But next day, when Mr. Strafford made his inquiry, he brought back news +that three or four weeks' delay might be perfectly safe. Christian was, +indeed, in the lumberer's employ, but the gang to which he was attached +had started for the woods, and would not return for a month. By that +time it would be easy to leave the Cottage without hurry, and without +attracting unnecessary attention.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>"Going away? Nonsense, Elise; you are joking. The very idea of Mrs. +Costello going away from Cacouna!"</p> + +<p>"She <i>is</i> going at any rate, to my sorrow, she and Lucia both; for six +months at least, they say."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs and her sister were together again, and Bella, though she +was getting used to be called Mrs. Morton, and to see the wedding-ring +on her finger, was not at all sobered yet by her matronly state, but +might have passed perfectly well for Bella Latour. She and her husband, +who had no leisure for a long wedding-tour, had come back to Cacouna the +evening before, and were dining to-day at her brother-in-law's. The two +ladies were sitting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> in Mrs. Bellairs' room, and Bella was beginning to +hear what little news there was in Cacouna since she went away.</p> + +<p>"Where are they going?" she asked when she had had time to believe this +surprising item regarding the Costellos.</p> + +<p>"South, I believe, for the winter. Mrs. Costello is not well."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Costello or Lucia? Upon my word, if Lucia is not breaking her +heart, she ought to be, for Mr. Percy."</p> + +<p>"Bella, I wish you would leave off talking such nonsense. Do you never +mean to be wiser?"</p> + +<p>"Never, my dear; it's hopeless. But confess, Elise, that you were very +fidgety about Lucia, and heartily glad to get rid of your visitor. Why, +I saw it in every line of your letter, which told me he was gone."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs coloured. "Yes, I will confess I was not sorry when he +went; he bored me a little, and I am afraid I was not as hospitable as I +might have been."</p> + +<p>"Well, and how about Lucia? You might as well tell me, for I shall see +her to-morrow and find out everything."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There is nothing for me to tell or you to find out. Lucia is anxious +about her mother, and, I think, sorry to leave Cacouna. There is +something like a shadow of real trouble upon her face, and I advise you, +Bella, if you have any regard for her, to talk no nonsense to her about +Mr. Percy."</p> + +<p>Bella looked positively grave for a moment. She was but just married, +and was very happy herself—it was natural, perhaps, that she should +refuse in her own heart to acknowledge the necessity for Lucia's "real +trouble" having other cause than the departure of Percy; but, like her +sister, she was very warm-hearted, though her flightiness often +concealed it, and she had a small fund of sentiment and romance safely +hidden away somewhere, which helped to make her sympathetic.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs was pleased with her sister's gravity. She did not choose +to confess that she also believed Lucia had to some degree grieved over +her absent admirer, for she knew nothing of his proposal or what had +followed it, and had a peculiar dislike to hearing Lucia's name linked +with his in Bella's careless talk. But she had seen clearly enough that +if he was regretted, that regret was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> but part of Lucia's trouble, and +she wanted to say nothing of her own suspicions, and yet to save Lucia +from the attack Bella was sure to make upon her, if she did not perceive +(as she was not likely to do unaided) that her jests were specially +ill-timed. So she went on talking.</p> + +<p>"They are to shut up the Cottage, and I have promised to look into it +occasionally and see that it is kept in repair, but I think their +greatest difficulty is about poor Mr. Leigh, whom Maurice left in their +care. I do not know what he will do without them."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there is news of Maurice? You have not sent me any."</p> + +<p>"He found his grandfather ill, and in great want of some one of his own +family about him; but not, I fancy, at all likely to die. He is slightly +paralysed and unable to move without help, or to amuse himself in any +way. Poor Maurice seems to have no easy life as far as I can judge."</p> + +<p>"Did his grandfather receive him kindly?"</p> + +<p>"Very much so, he says. Maurice is like his mother, and that pleased the +old man greatly. He introduced him to everybody as his heir."</p> + +<p>"Instead of saying 'Poor Maurice,' you ought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> to say 'Lucky Maurice.' +His head will be quite turned."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs smiled. "No fear," she answered. "His heart is in Canada +still, and that will keep his head steady."</p> + +<p>"What does he say to this move of the Costellos?"</p> + +<p>"How can he say anything? It is not three weeks since your marriage, and +they knew nothing of it themselves then."</p> + +<p>"True, I forgot. I feel as if I had been married a year."</p> + +<p>"Not complimentary to the Doctor, if his company is what has made the +time seem so long."</p> + +<p>"You know very well I don't mean that—only I feel quite settled down +into a married woman."</p> + +<p>"Do you really? No one would guess it. But what can our two husbands be +doing all this time?"</p> + +<p>"Here they come. Positively stopping in the hall for a few last words. +Treason, no doubt, or they would come in at once, and let us hear."</p> + +<p>Treason it was in one sense certainly, for the two gentlemen were +discussing a subject which they knew would be displeasing to Bella, if +not to both their wives, and which they meant to keep care<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>fully to +themselves. It related to Bella's unprofitable farm on Beaver Creek, +which her husband was resolved to turn to better account, and from which +he had, immediately after his marriage, desired Mr. Bellairs to use the +shortest method of ejecting the tenants who now occupied it. Something +had already been done, but Doctor Morton fancied too tardily, and he had +been urging upon his brother-in-law more vigorous measures. The +conclusion of their conversation was this:—</p> + +<p>"And I wish, if possible, you would let Clarkson understand that it is +quite useless to send his wife to plague Bella. She agrees with me that +women had better always leave business to their husbands, and I have no +intention of letting her be humbugged out of her property."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Mr. Bellairs, not altogether pleased with this speech, +"only I warn you, Clarkson is an awkward fellow to deal with, and if you +do turn him out, you may expect him to revenge himself in any and every +way he can."</p> + +<p>Doctor Morton laughed. "I give him leave," he said. "As long as Bella +knows nothing of the matter, it will not trouble me."</p> + +<p>With that he opened the door, and came into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> room where his bride +sat entirely unsuspicious of his intentions, or of the way in which her +own innocent words had been made use of.</p> + +<p>What Magdalen Scott had said of Doctor Morton on his wedding-day was +perfectly true—he was a hard man. Not cruel or unjust, but keen and +hard. He did no wrong to any one. He could even be liberal and +considerate in his dealings with those who could not wrong him; but he +had neither forbearance nor mercy for those who defrauded him in any way +whatever of his rights. He was fond of his wife, being his wife, but if +she had been poor he would never have thought of marrying her. Her +possessions were, plainly and honestly, of as much value to him as +herself. He would tolerate the loss of the one as soon as that of the +other. The farm at Beaver Creek was the only thing she had brought him +which was not in a satisfactory state; it had cost him considerable +thought during their short engagement, and being extremely prompt and +business-like in his ideas, he had made up his mind that the land should +be cleared at once of intruders, that the wood might be cut down during +the winter, and cultivation begin with the following spring. Having +decided upon this, he was not a person to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> be turned from his plan by +difficulties. He thought both Mr. Latour and Mr. Bellairs had been +remiss in their work of dealing with the squatters, and felt a sort of +resentment against them for having taken such negligent care of <i>his</i> +property. He did not like at present to go so far as to take the case +entirely out of his brother-in-law's hands, but he had decided that it +would be necessary himself to look after, and urge on, the proceedings +which were being taken against Clarkson.</p> + +<p>He determined, therefore, that the first time he could spare an hour or +two from his profession, he would ride over alone to Beaver Creek, and +see precisely the condition of the land, and what inroads had been made +upon it by Clarkson and the Indians. It was only a day or two later that +he carried out his intention; and after a few early visits to patients, +turned his horse's head along the road which, following the general +direction of the river bank, led towards Beaver Creek. He rode tolerably +fast for two or three miles, and then began to slacken his pace, and +look round him with greater interest. He was still some distance from +the creek itself, but the land lay on this side of it, and he was +curious to know the condition of the neighbouring farms. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> had not +been very long resident in Cacouna, and was but little acquainted with +the country in this direction, except where, here and there, he had paid +professional visits.</p> + +<p>But at last he arrived at what he knew by description must be his wife's +property, and his examination began in good earnest. For the most part, +however, there was nothing to examine except timber, and that of little +value. "Plenty of firewood," was his only comment as he went on. Beyond +the belt of wood, however, he came upon a clear space bordering the +creek, and strewed with decayed fish, fragments of old nets, and broken +pieces of wood—traces of the use to which the Indians were in the habit +of putting it. A small hut stood just in the shelter of the bush, but it +was empty, and the whole place had the look of being not inhabited, but +only visited occasionally for fishing.</p> + +<p>A rough cart-track led past the hut and towards the mouth of the creek. +Along this Doctor Morton turned, and soon came in sight of the log-house +which Clarkson had built upon the very best corner of the land. It was +by no means an uncomfortable-looking dwelling. The rough logs were +partly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> covered by a wild vine, and a quantity of hop plants, still +green and leafy. The roof, instead of shingles, was thatched with sheets +of bark, and an iron stove pipe passing through these was the only +visible chimney. But the place had a well-to-do look, which was not +likely to improve the Doctor's good humour. There was a little garden +roughly railed in, in front, and some children playing there. At the end +of the house was a small farm-yard, with pigs, a cow, and a shaggy +horse, all looking out serenely at the stranger. Each one of the +occupants of the place seemed to feel perfectly secure and at home, and +to have neither suspicion nor fear of the speedy ejection which was +being planned for them. No doubt it was very absurd, but even the serene +sleepy eyes of the cow seemed to have aggravation in them, and the +Doctor turned his horse round to return home, in the worst possible +humour.</p> + +<p>The country roads were so bad, however, that though it always appears +natural for a man in a passion to ride fast, he was obliged to check his +horse and pick his way among the deep ruts and holes. Going on in this +way and having some little trouble with the animal, which was young and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +spirited, he saw a man coming along the road before him, and as they +drew nearer recognized Clarkson.</p> + +<p>The squatter was not a pleasant man to look at. He was of middle height, +very broadly and strongly built, but with a slouching gait which +corresponded perfectly with the expression of his coarse features, half +brutal, half sly. He wore an old fur cap, drawn so low upon his forehead +as to shade his eyes, and conceal the frown with which he perceived his +enemy. His usual audacity of manner, however, did not desert him. He +stood still as the other approached, and called out,</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Doctor. Been looking at your property?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the answer. "And I have one thing to say to you, the sooner +you are off it the better."</p> + +<p>"Now, that ain't reasonable," Clarkson said, coming nearer. "I've built +a bit of a house there, and took a world of trouble, and you expect me +to give it up for nothing."</p> + +<p>"Decidedly I do. Good morning."</p> + +<p>He was moving on, when Clarkson caught his rein.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Doctor Morton," he said, "I found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> the land wild as land +could be. I took possession of it, and kept it. Mr. Latour was not hard +upon me, nor Miss Latour neither; and I can't see why you as has had +nothing to do with it, neither buying it, nor building on it, should be +so much keener after it than them."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to argue the matter," the Doctor answered. "You've had +warning enough; and I mean you to go. Loose my horse."</p> + +<p>Clarkson's face was growing darker every moment. He held the bridle more +firmly, and began to speak again.</p> + +<p>Doctor Morton suddenly raised his riding-whip, and let the handle fall +sharply on the hand that detained him; at the same moment he spurred his +horse, and the animal, springing forward, struck Clarkson with its +shoulder and sent him staggering back across the road. He recovered +himself in a moment, and darted forward with an oath, but it was too +late—horse and rider were already far beyond his reach.</p> + +<p>Doctor Morton went straight to Mr. Bellairs' office. He felt it needful +to get rid, in some way, of his new irritation against Clarkson, but +some consciousness of being for the moment urged on by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> personal +dislike, made him say nothing of their encounter. He merely satisfied +himself that his brother-in-law, considerably piqued by the implied +blame which had been thrown upon his guardianship, was now doing all +that was possible to satisfy his eagerness.</p> + +<p>After all these affairs it was late when he reached home. He and Bella +were going to dine out, and she was waiting impatiently for him when he +finished his day's work and went in to dress. He had no time to talk to +her then, and kept what he had to say for their drive; but as they drove +along, it occurred to him that if he told her of his meeting with +Clarkson she would worry herself, and perhaps him also, so he finally +kept it to himself altogether, and as his ill-humour subsided it passed +out of his mind.</p> + + +<h4>END OF VOL. I.</h4> + +<p class='center'> +PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,<br /> +LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, Volume 1, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 1 *** + +***** This file should be named 18002-h.htm or 18002-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/0/18002/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet B and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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