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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18122-8.txt b/18122-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..98229e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/18122-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6354 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, Volume 2, 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 2 + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill + +Release Date: April 5, 2006 [EBook #18122] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 2 *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship 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)) + + + + + + + + + + + + A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + A Novel. + + + BY + + THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS." + + + "Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando, + E disse: Or ha bisogno il tuo fedele + Di te, e io a te lo raccomando."--_Inferno. Canto II._ + + + "Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes; + En Canada qu'on vit content! + Salut ô sublimes montagnes, + Bords du superbe St. Laurent! + Habitant de cette contrée + Que nature veut embellir, + Tu peux marcher tête levée, + Ton pays doit t'enorgueillir."--_J. Bedard._ + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + VOL. I. + + + LONDON: + TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND. + 1873. + [_All rights Reserved._] + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + +A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Mrs. Costello had felt it a kind of reprieve when she heard from Mr. +Strafford that they might delay their journey safely for a month. The +sober middle age which had come upon her before its time, as her life +rolled on out of the anguish and tumult of the past, made home and +quietness the most desirable things on earth to her, and her health and +spirits, neither yet absolutely broken, but both strained almost to the +extent of their endurance, unfitted her for the changes and excitements +of long travel. So she clung to the idea of delay with an unacknowledged +hope that some cause might deliver them from their present terrors, and +yet suffer them to remain at Cacouna. + +In the meantime all went on outwardly as usual. The duties and +courtesies of every-day life had to be kept up,--the more carefully +because it was not desirable to attract attention. Besides, Mrs. +Costello felt that an even flow of occupation was the best thing for +Lucia, whom she watched, with the keenest and tenderest solicitude, +passing through the shadow of that darkness which she herself knew so +well. Doctor Morton brought his wife home most opportunely for her +wishes. A variety of such small dissipations as Cacouna could produce, +naturally celebrated the event; and Lucia as principal bridesmaid at the +wedding could not, if she would, have shut herself out from them. She +had, indeed, dreaded the first meeting with Bella, but it passed off +without embarrassment. To all appearance Mrs. Morton had lost either the +sharpness of observation or the readiness of tongue that had formerly +belonged to her, for the change which Lucia felt in herself was allowed +to remain unremarked. + +Mrs. Bellairs had long ago got over her displeasure with Lucia. She had +watched her narrowly at the time of Percy's leaving, and became +satisfied that there was some trouble of a sterner kind than regret for +him now weighing heavily upon her heart. + +Although Mrs. Bellairs told her sister of the intended journey of Mrs. +Costello and Lucia, the preparations for that journey were being made +with as little stir as possible, and except herself, her husband, and +Mr. Leigh, few persons dreamed of such an improbable event. Bella even +received a hint to speak of it to no one but her husband, for Mrs. +Costello was anxious to avoid gossip, and had taken much thought how to +attain the _juste milieu_ between secrecy and publicity. In the meantime +there was much to be done in prospect of a long, an indefinitely long, +absence, and the needful exertion both of mind and body was good for +Lucia. Under no circumstances, perhaps, could she have sat quietly down +to bewail her misfortunes, or have allowed herself to sink under them, +but, as it was, there was no temptation to indolent indulgence of any +kind. Bitter hours came still--came especially with the silence and +darkness of night, when her thoughts would go back to the sweet days of +the past summer and linger over them, till some word, or look, or +trifling incident coming to her memory more distinctly, would bring with +it the sudden recollection of the barren, dreary present,--of the +irreparable loss. + +In all her thoughts of Percy there was comfort. He had loved her +honestly and sincerely, and if his nature was really lower than her own, +she was not likely to guess it. She had acted, in dismissing him, on a +kind of distrust, she would have said, of human nature; more truly, of +him; but even this distrust was so vague and so disguised that it never +shadowed his character in her eyes. So, though she had parted from him, +she took comfort in the thought of his love, and kept it in her heart to +save herself from the overwhelming sense of degradation, which took +possession of her in remembering why she had sent him away from her. + +It was this feeling which, in spite of her courage and her pride, had +brought to her face that look of real trouble of which Mrs. Bellairs had +spoken. It was a look of which she was herself entirely unconscious, +more like the effect of years of care, than like that of a sudden +sorrow. With this change of expression on her face, and sobered, but +cheerful and capable as ever in her ways and doings, Lucia made her +preparations for leaving the place which was so dear and familiar to +her. + +Mrs. Costello's spirits had risen since their plans were settled. The +burden which was new to Lucia had been her companion for years, and, +except when the actual terror of falling once again into her husband's +hands was upon her, she had come to bear it with resignation and +patience. She had, of late years, endured far more on her child's +account than on her own; and to find that Lucia met her share of +suffering with such steady courage, and still had the same tender and +clinging love for herself, was an inexpressible relief. She had faith in +the words she had said on the night when the story of her life had been +told, she believed that a better happiness might yet come to that +beloved child than the one she had lost. So she lived in greater peace +than she had done for years before. + +But her greatest anxiety at this moment regarded Mr. Leigh and Maurice. +She had waited for news of Maurice's arrival in England and reception by +his grandfather, before writing to him, as she had promised to do. For +she wished him to be able to decide, on receiving her letter, what was +the best plan for Mr. Leigh's comfort, in case he should himself be +detained in Norfolk. The accounts which the first mail brought showed +plainly that this would be the case. Mr. Beresford had immediately taken +a fancy to his grandson, and would scarcely spare him out of his sight. +Mrs. Costello, therefore, wrote to Maurice, telling him that the time +she had half anticipated had really arrived, and that she and Lucia were +about to leave Canada. At the same time she had a long conversation with +Mr. Leigh, describing to him more of her circumstances and plans than +she wished any other person to know, and expressing the regret she felt +at leaving him in his solitude. A question, indeed, arose whether it +would not be better for him to leave his large solitary house, and +remove into the town, but this was soon decided in the negative. He +would remain where he was for the present. Maurice might yet return to +Canada; if not, possibly next year he might himself go to England. One +circumstance made Mrs. Costello and Lucia more inclined to favour this +plan--the old man's health had certainly improved. Whether it was the +link to his earlier and happier life, which had been furnished by the +late relenting of his wife's father, or from some other cause, he seemed +to have laid aside much of his infirmity, and to have returned from his +premature old age to something like vigour. + +A fortnight yet remained before the cottage was to be deserted, when +Doctor Morton and his wife returned home. The gossip of the +neighbourhood which, as was inevitable, had been for a little while busy +with Mr. Percy and Lucia, was turned into another channel by their +coming, and people again occupied themselves with the bride. Lucia was +obliged to visit her friend, and to join the parties given on the +occasion, and so day after day slipped by, and the surface of affairs +seemed so unchanged that, but for one or two absent faces, it would have +been difficult to believe in all that had happened lately. + +But, of course, it did at last become known that Mrs. Costello was going +away. She and Lucia both spoke of it lightly, as an ordinary occurrence +enough; but it was so unlike their usual habits, that each person who +heard the news instantly set himself or herself to guess a reason, and, +connecting it with the loss of Lucia's gay spirits, most persons came +naturally to one conclusion. + +It did not matter whether they said, "Poor Lucia!" with the +half-contemptuous pity people give to what they call "a disappointment," +or "What else could she expect?" "I told you so!" or any other of the +speeches in which we express our delight in a neighbour's +misfortunes--every way of alluding to the subject was equally +irritating to Mrs. Bellairs, who heard of it constantly, and tried in +vain to stop the tongues of her acquaintance. She could not do it; and +what she feared most, soon happened. Lucia came, in some way, to be +aware of what was going on, and this last pain, though so much lighter +than those she had already borne, seemed to break down all her pride at +once. In her own room that night she sat, hour after hour, in forlorn +wretchedness--her own familiar friends, the companions of her whole +life, were making her misery the subject of their careless gossip. They +knew nothing of the real wound which she had suffered, but they were +quite ready to inflict another; and the feeling of loneliness and +desertion which filled her heart at the thought was more bitter than all +that had gone before. She remembered Maurice, and wondered drearily +whether he too would have misjudged her; but for the moment even her +faith in him was shaken, and she turned from her thoughts of him without +comfort. + +But this mood was too unnatural to last long. Before morning her courage +had returned, and her strong impulse and desire was to show how little +she felt the very sting which was really torturing her. She stood long +before her glass that morning. The face which had grown hateful to +herself was still beautiful to others. She studied it in every line. She +wanted to see what there could be in it to give people the idea of +love-sickness. She wanted to force back into it the old light and +gaiety. Impossible! With a shudder she covered it with her hands. Never +again could she be a child. She had passed through the storm, and must +bear its traces henceforward. But, at least, it had been the thunderbolt +of heaven, and not the hand of man, which had wounded her. Her very +sorrow was sacred. She lifted up her head again, and saw that there was +a calm upon her face, which was better than pride. Instinctively she +knew that none but idiots could look at her with contempt, or the pity +which is so near it; and she went out into her little world again, sad +at heart, but steadfast and at peace. So the days passed on, and grew +into weeks, and the time for their leaving Cacouna came very near. It +had been delayed more than a week beyond the month on which Mrs. +Costello had first counted for security; but on the very eve of their +departure she had overcome her anxiety, and was secretly glad to make +the most of every little excuse for lingering yet another and another +day at the cottage. + +It was now Monday evening, and on Wednesday they were to start. A letter +from Maurice had arrived that morning--the first which he had written +after receiving news from home, and it contained an enclosure to Mrs. +Costello, which Lucia wondered her mother did not show her. But she +would have wondered more, perhaps, if she had known why, in spite of the +easily-read wistfulness in her glance, that note was so carefully +withheld from her. It alluded, in fact, too plainly to the conversation +in which, for the first time, Maurice had, just before going away, +spoken to Mrs. Costello of herself and his affection for her. He said +now, "My father has sent me an account of Miss Latour's wedding, which +he said he made Lucia describe to him for my benefit. But I have a +curiosity to hear more about it, or rather about her. To tell the truth, +I am longing for a letter from you, not only to bring me news of my +father, but to satisfy me that all my hopes are not being built upon an +impossibility. Is Percy still at Cacouna? Don't laugh at me. My +occupations here leave me plenty of time to think of you all, and I +depend upon you not to let me be left quite in the dark on the subject +to which I cannot help giving most of my thoughts." + +Mrs. Costello smiled to herself as she read; but she put off Lucia's +questioning with a very unfaithful summary of the contents of the note. +It was certainly strange how much vague comfort she took in the +knowledge of Maurice's love for her child. It might have seemed that the +same causes which had parted Lucia from Percy, and which she had said +would part her from the whole world, would be just as powerful here; but +the mother had at the bottom of her heart a kind of child-like +confidence that somehow, some time, all must come right, and in the +meantime she loved Maurice heartily, and wished for this happy +consummation almost as much for his sake as for her daughter's. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +There was a good deal of difference in the aspect of the country above +and below Cacouna. Below it the river bank was high; and cultivated and +fertile lands stretched back for a mile or two, till they were bordered +and shut in by the forest. Above, the bank was low. Just beyond the town +lay the swamp, which brought ague to the Parsonage and its neighbours. +On the further side of this was the steam sawmill, and a few shanties +occupied by workmen; and higher still, a road (called the Lake Shore +Road, because, after a few miles, it joined and ran along the side of +the lake) wound its way over a sandy plain, studded with clumps and +knots of scattered trees or brushwood. Rough, stubbly grass covered a +good deal of the sand, but here and there the wind had swept it up into +great piles round some obstacle that broke the level, and on these +sand-hills wild vines grew luxuriantly, covering them in many places +with thick and graceful foliage, and small purple clusters of grapes. +There were pools, too, in some places, where water-lilies had managed to +plant themselves, and where colonies of mud-turtles lived undisturbed; +and there were shady places by the sides of the pools, where the brown +pitcher-plant held its cups of clear water, and the ghost-flower +glimmered spectrally among the dead leaves of last year. But the plain +generally was hot and sunny in summer, and very dreary in winter; for +the larger trees which grew upon it were oaks, and when they were bare +of foliage, and the sand-hills and the pools had a deep covering of +snow, the wind swept icily cold over its wide space. In September the +oaks were still in leaf, and the grass green, and, though they were but +stunted in size and coarse in texture, both were pleasant to look at. +The sunshine was no longer hot, but it was serenely bright, and there +was as lovely a blue overhead as if the equinox were months away. + +A light waggon came winding in and out with the turnings of the +road--now crossing a wooden bridge, now passing through the shadows of a +dozen or more oaks which grew close together. Sometimes, when the ground +was clear, the waggon went straight through one of these groups. +Sometimes it turned aside, to avoid the thick brushwood underneath. The +"waggon," which was neither more nor less than a large tray placed upon +four wheels, and having a seat for two people, was occupied by two young +men, Harry Scott and George Anderson. They were coming down from their +homes, two farms which lay close together some little distance up the +lake, and were going first to the sawmill and then to the town. But they +were in no particular hurry, and the afternoon was pleasant, so they let +their horse take his own time, and came jogging over the sand at a most +leisurely pace. + +They had passed that very piece of land which had given Dr. Morton so +much trouble lately; it was natural enough, therefore, that their chat +should turn to speculations as to his success in ejecting Clarkson from +his house, and the Indians from their fisheries. + +"More trouble than it's worth," said George Anderson; "there is not a +tree on the land that will pay for cutting down." + +"Very likely not; but the land may not be bad; and it is a capital +situation. I only wish it were mine," answered Harry, who had his own +reasons for wishing to be a little more independent in circumstances. + +"Tell you what," said George, making a knot on the end of his whip-lash, +"my belief is, that it is quite as much for pleasure as profit that the +Doctor is so busy about his land." + +"Pleasure?" + +"Yes. Do not you see any pleasure in it? By Jove, I asked him something +about Clarkson the other day; and if you'd seen his face, you'd believe +he enjoyed the fight." + +"Well, that's not unlikely. He's a great brute, that Clarkson. I should +not mind pitching into him myself." + +"I should, though," said George laughing; "the chances of his pitching +into me in return would be too strong." + +Harry shrugged his shoulders. "He has a queer character certainly; but +of the two, I think I should be more afraid of disturbing the Indians, +especially if I had to ride about the country at all hours. It would not +be very difficult to waylay the Doctor; and I dare say some of them are +savage enough to do it, if they had a serious grudge against him." + +"I don't believe they have pluck enough to do anything of the kind. Look +what miserable fellows those are that Dawson has at the mill now. They +look as if all the spirit had been starved out of them." + +So they went on talking until they caught glimpses of the mill before +them, whenever their way lay over the open ground; and then George +Anderson touched the horse with his whip, and they began to get over the +remaining distance more quickly. They were trotting briskly round the +side of a low thicket of brambles, when suddenly a horse, which was +grazing on the further side, raised its head and looked at them. There +was nothing remarkable in that, certainly, for horses were not +unfrequently turned out there; but what was remarkable, was that this +one had a bridle on. George involuntarily tightened his reins; and the +next moment the animal, which seemed to have been disturbed by their +coming, trotted slowly across the road in front of them. It was bridled +and saddled, and the saddle was a little on one side, as if it had been +dragged round. Harry sprang from the waggon. He followed the horse, and +in a minute or two caught and led it back to where George, who had also +dismounted, was now tying his to a tree. + +They both recognized the runaway. Harry said one word as he led it up, +"Doctor Morton!" and with a horror-struck face pointed to a dark wet +stain partly on the saddle, partly on the horse's neck. + +George darted round the thicket, and in a moment a cry called Harry to +the same place. A bridle path, more direct than the road, ran close +beside the thorn bushes, and there, half hidden in branches and leaves, +lay something--something that had once been human and living. Dark pools +of blood lay about it, and there were horrible gashes and wounds as if +the murderer had been unable to satisfy his rage, and had taken a +frantic pleasure in mutilating his victim. + +The two young men stood and looked at each other and at the ghastly heap +before them. Silently with white faces they questioned each other what +to do? To touch what lay there seemed almost impossible, and any thought +of succour was hopeless; but something must be done. They both drew away +from the spot before they spoke. Then Harry said in a low voice, "There +are plenty of men at the mill; you might fetch some of them." + +George went towards the waggon without a word; but just as he was going +to get in he turned round, + +"No, Harry, you must go. Somebody must take the news on to Cacouna, and +that can't be me." + +"Very well." + +Harry was in the waggon instantly, and away. His first errand was +quickly done. In a very few minutes George could see, from the place +where he kept watch, that the men began to hurry out of the mill, and +come towards him in a confused throng. Some, however, stayed to bring a +kind of dray with them, and then, when these also had started, he could +see Harry Scott moving slowly off in the waggon towards the town. + +The dray came lumbering over the sand, and the men gathered round the +dreadful heap under the brambles which must be lifted up and laid upon +it, yet which no one seemed ready to be the first to touch. But, at +last, it was done; the distorted limbs were smoothed and the wounds +partially covered; and some semblance of humanity came back to the dead +form as it was carried slowly away towards home. When this had been +done, there was time for another thought--the murderer? + +Perhaps every one present had already in his heart convicted one person, +but even in the excitement of horror some one had sense enough to say, +"There ought to be a search made--there may be some trace." + +Nor was it difficult to find a trace. At a very little distance from the +spot itself there appeared marks upon the grass as if footsteps, heavy, +and wet with dark-coloured moisture, had trodden there. They followed +the tracks, and came to a place where many low bushes growing close +together formed a kind of thicket. Almost buried in this, the figure of +a man lying upon the ground filled them for a moment with a new +consternation--but this was no lifeless body. They dragged it out--a +squalid, miserable object, with bleared eyes and red disfigured face, a +drunken, half-imbecile Indian. + +He was so overcome, indeed, with the heavy sleep of intoxication that +even when they made him stand up, he seemed neither to see anything nor +to hear the questions of the men who knew him and called him by his +name. But there were answers to their questions in another shape than +that of words. The hatchet that lay beside him and the stains of blood +still wet upon his ragged clothing were conclusive evidence. + +They led him away, after the little procession which had gone on with +the dray and its load, but he neither resisted, nor indeed spoke at all. +He seemed not to understand what was going on; and the men about him +were for the moment too full of horror, and of that awe which belongs to +the sight of death, to be much disposed to question him. + +So they took murderer and victim both to the sawmill, and there waited, +dreading to carry their ghastly load into the town till such warning as +was possible had been given. + +Meantime Harry Scott, with his mind full of his mission, drove towards +Cacouna. He saw nothing of the people he passed, or who passed him; he +saw only the sight he had just left, except when there rushed into his +recollection for a moment the wedding-day scarcely six weeks ago, and +the certainty of happiness which then seemed to wait both bride and +bridegroom. And now? "Poor Bella!" broke from his lips, and he shuddered +as he fancied, not Bella, but his cousin Magdalen crushed down in her +youth by such a blow as this. But the momentary, fanciful connection of +the two girls, did but make him the more tender of the young widow. +"Widow!" he said the word half aloud, it seemed so unnatural, so +incredible. But while he thought, he was drawing very near his +destination; for he had at once decided that the proper thing to do was +to find Mr. Bellairs, and leave him to carry the news as he might think +best to his sister-in-law. At the door of the lawyer's office, +therefore, the reluctant messenger stopped, and went in with his face +still full of the strange excitement and trouble of his mission. + +A few words can tell the happiest or the saddest news life ever brings +us; all that Harry knew could be told in two sentences, and, half +announced as they were by his looks, Mr. Bellairs instantly understood +the message, and why it was brought to him. He took his hat, and before +Harry was quite sure whether he had made him understand what had really +happened, he was halfway to his own house. + +An hour later, the dray, now more carefully arranged and covered, +brought its load to the door of the house which had been so lately +prepared for the bride's coming home. For convenience' sake they carried +the body into a lower room, and laid it there until its burial, while +Bella sat in her chamber above, silent and tearless, not understanding +yet what had befallen her, but through her stunned and dreary stupor +listening from habit for the footsteps which should have returned at +that hour--the footsteps which death had already silenced for ever. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +It is easy to imagine how, in so small a community as Cacouna, the news +of a frightful crime committed in their very midst, would spread from +mouth to mouth. How groups of listeners would gather in the streets, +round every man who had anything of the story to tell. How the country +people who had been in town when the murdered man was brought home, +hurried along the solitary roads with a kind of terror upon them, and +carried the news out to the villages and farms around. As to the +murderer, there was a strange confusion in the minds of many of the +townspeople. Doctor Morton's feud with Clarkson had been so well known +that, if there had been any signs of premeditation or design about the +crime, suspicion would have turned naturally upon him. But there was no +such appearance, nor the smallest reason to suppose that Clarkson had +been within half a mile of the spot that day. On the contrary, no +reasonable doubt could exist that the real murderer was the Indian who +had been found among the bushes. The men who knew him spoke of him as +passionate, brutal, more than half-savage--there was perfect fitness +between his appearance and character, and the barbarous manner of his +crime. And yet while everybody spoke of him as undoubtedly guilty, +almost everybody had a thought of Clarkson haunting his mind, and an +uneasy desire to find out the truth, entirely incompatible with the +clearness of the circumstantial evidence. + +It was already nearly nine o'clock when Margery going from the Cottage +to Mr. Leigh's, on some errand to his housekeeper, brought back with her +the story which a passing acquaintance had carried so far. She came into +the parlour full of the not unpleasant sensation of having a piece of +strange and horrible news to tell. + +Mrs. Costello had left the room for a moment and Lucia was alone, +sitting rather drearily looking into the fire, with her work fallen +into her lap, when Margery came in. + +"Miss Lucia, there's an awful thing happened." + +"What, Margery?" Lucia half smiled, for Margery loved marvels, and made +much of them. + +"Doctor Morton is dead." + +"Impossible! Hush, don't say it." + +"It is true, miss. This afternoon." + +"But how? It is incredible." + +"He was found, Miss Lucia, lying dead by the roadside a piece beyond +Dawson's mill. And they found the man that did it." + +"You don't mean to say that he had been--" she stopped, shuddering. + +"Murdered. Yes," and Margery went into all the details she had heard +from her gossip. + +Mrs. Costello, attracted by the tone of their voices, had come to the +door between the parlour and her bedroom, and stood there listening. +Both she and Lucia, who, like every one else except perhaps his wife, +had heard of the doctor's proceedings against Clarkson, thought only of +him as the murderer until Margery finished her recital with-- + +"It all comes of having them savages of Indians about. I never could +abide the sight of them." + +Lucia caught a glimpse of her mother's face. She felt her own muscles +stiffen with fear. With desperate strength she steadied her voice. + +"What do you mean about Indians?" she said. + +"It is an Indian as done it," Margery answered half indignant. "There's +no white man, let him be ever such a brute, would have chopped the body +up like that." + +"You said they had taken the murderer?" + +"They took him, and he's in gaol. Dawson's men knew him. He has been +working for Dawson lately. They say he comes from Moose Island. Mr. +Strafford would know him most like." + +There was nothing further to be asked, and Margery went out of the room, +seeing no more than the natural horror on those two white faces of +mother and daughter, which dreaded to meet and read the thought, in each +other's eyes. + +It was for this, then, that they had delayed their journey. Neither +doubted for a moment the guilt of the wretched creature who was the +haunting terror and misery of their lives; and it was not strange that, +overwhelmed with the stronger and more personal interest, they should +forget to wonder or lament over the dead, cut down in the very beginning +of life, or to think of the desolate and widowed bride meeting her first +grief in the unnatural guise of murder. + +Mrs. Costello came back to her chair by the fireside. She could no +longer take her fears and anxieties into the solitude of her own room, +and hide them there. There was both pain and comfort in knowing that +Lucia now shared with her every additional weight--even this last, which +she scarcely yet comprehended. But it was some time before either spoke. +Each was trying to gauge the new depth which seemed to have opened under +their feet--the wife and daughter of a murderer! The old ignominy, the +old degradation, had been all but intolerable. How then should they bear +this? And their secret, must it not be known now? become the common +gossip of the country, of the people who had called them friends? Each +felt instinctively that their thoughts were running on in the same +channels, each shrank from words. Yet, it was needful to consult, to ask +each other the question, "What shall we do?" + +At last Mrs. Costello roused herself. + +"We must put off our journey," she said, with a smothered sigh, which, +indeed, had nearly been a groan. + +Lucia looked up. + +"It may not be true," she answered, knowing that there was no need to +say what "it" was--the idea which had seized upon both their minds with +so deadly a grasp. + +"It may not, God grant it! But we must know; and if it is, I ought to be +here." + +"Mother, you cannot. It will kill you." + +Mrs. Costello smiled, the wan smile of long-taxed patience. + +"No," she said, "I think not. Life is hard for both of us, hardest +perhaps for you, darling, just now, but I have no thought that it is +over yet for either of us." + +Lucia came and knelt down in her old place by her mother's side. It +always seemed as if thus close together, able to speak to each other as +much by caresses as by words, they were both stronger, and could look +more calmly at the calamities which threatened them with every evil +except that of separation. + +"You will write to Mr. Strafford?" Lucia asked. + +"Yes; but first we must know certainly." + +"And how to do that?" + +"There will be no difficulty to-morrow. Mr. Leigh is sure to hear the +particulars. I will go and ask him about them." + +"You do not mean to tell him?" + +"No; it will be easy enough without that, to ask about a subject which +every one will be talking of." + +"Mamma, I can go to Mr. Leigh as well as you. I can go better, for I +shall not suffer as you will, and I can bring you home a faithful +account of what I hear." + +"Darling, all this is new to you. I have had to serve a long +apprenticeship to learn self-restraint." + +Lucia laughed bitterly. "See the advantage of my Indian blood," she +said. "Trust me, mother, I will be as steady as those ancestors of mine +who bore torture without flinching." + +Mrs. Costello bent down and kissed her child's forehead. + +"Yours is a better heroism, Lucia; for mental pain is harder to bear +than physical, and you would suffer to save me." + +"We suffer together, mamma. I must take my share. To-morrow I shall go, +as usual, to Mr. Leigh's, and bring back all I can learn. But he will +wonder to see me, and still more if he hears that we are not going +away." + +"You must simply tell him our journey is put off. He will ask no +questions, and only think I am very dilatory and changeable. No one else +is likely to think of us at all for a day or two to come." + +They were silent again for a little while. Lucia's thoughts, relieved +from the first heavy pressure on them by the very fact of having spoken, +began to turn from the criminal to the victim; from their own share in +the horror to that of others. One thing seemed to stand out clear and +plain from the confusion which still enveloped all else. She, the +daughter of the murderer, could never again meet the wife of the +murdered man as a friend. If the punishment of the father descended to +the children, did not their guilt descend too? Already she seemed to +feel the stain of blood upon her hand, and to shrink from herself, as +all innocent persons ought to do, henceforward. And Bella, her old +companion and friend, must shrink from her most of all; the very spirit +of the dead would surely rise up to forbid all intercourse between them. + +Lucia had not boasted of her self-command without reason. A mind +naturally strong, and supported both by pride and affection, had enabled +her to meet with courage the bitterness and misery of the past weeks. +But she was only a girl still, and had not learned to rule her thoughts +as well as her looks and words. So if they grew morbid, and her dreary +imagination sometimes tortured her uselessly and cruelly, it was no +great wonder. She could suffer and be silent; but she had not yet learnt +so to rule her spirit as to save herself needless suffering. + +Thus the very intensity of her sympathy for Bella only reacted in +loathing and horror of herself; and she had begun to try to devise means +for carrying out that avoidance of all most nearly connected with the +dead, which seemed to her an imperative duty, when she was startled by +her mother's voice. + +"If it is he," she said--and it seemed that they both shrank from any +plainer expression of their thoughts than these vague phrases--"if it is +he our hardest task is before us. How will you bear, Lucia, to meet +them all again?" + +"Mother, I cannot! Surely you do not think of it. How can _we_"--she +shuddered as she spoke--"how can we go again among any innocent people?" + +"My child, we _must_. More than that, we must keep our secret, if we +can, still." + +"But Bella? Mother, how can I look at her--a widow--and know who I am, +and who has done it?" + +"Listen to me, Lucia. My poor child, your burden has been heavy lately; +do not make it heavier than it need be. The crime and the horror are bad +enough, but we have no share in them. No; think of it reasonably. The +wife and child of a criminal, even where there has been daily +association between them, are not condemned, but rather pitied. No mind, +but one cruelly prejudiced, would brand them with his guilt. Do not +punish yourself, then, where others would acquit you. But, indeed, I +need not tell you how our very separation is a safeguard to us--to you +especially. Think of these things; and do not suffer yourself to imagine +that there is a bar between you and Bella just now, when I know you +love her more than ever." + +Lucia's head lay upon her mother's knee. Mrs. Costello's touch on the +soft hair, her tone of gentle reproof, and the thoughts her words called +up, brought tears, fast and thick, to her child's eyes. Lucia had shed +few tears in her life. Until lately she had known no cause for them; and +lately they had not come. With dry eyes and throbbing temples she had +gone through the most sorrowful hours; but now the spell seemed broken, +and a sense of calm and relief came with the change. Mrs. Costello went +on,-- + +"There is another reason why we must appear as we have always done. +Suspicion is not proof. Margery's story, and more, may be true, and yet +it may be that, three months hence, all, as regards ourselves, will be +just as it has been. We must not, through a blind fear of one calamity, +put ourselves in the way of another. Neither of us can look much at the +future to-night; but we must not forget that there is a future. So it is +still the old task which is before us, to keep our secret." + +The voice had been very steady until the last word; but as that was +spoken, it faltered and failed so suddenly that Lucia looked up. She +sprang to her feet, but just in time. The over-tried strength had given +way, and Mrs. Costello had fallen back in a deep fainting fit. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Lucia dared not call Margery to her assistance. The consciousness of +having something to conceal made her dread the smallest self-betrayal. +She hastened, therefore, to do alone all that she could do for her +mother's recovery; but it was so long before she succeeded that she grew +almost wild with terror. At last, however, the deathly look passed away, +and with the very first moment of returning animation, the habit of +self-control returned also. Mrs. Costello smiled at her daughter's +anxious face. + +"I am afraid," she said, "that you will have to get used to these +attacks. Do not be frightened; you see they pass off again." + +"But you never used to have them?" + +"No; but youth and strength cannot last for ever." + +"Mamma! you are not old; you are not much more than forty yet." + +"Forty-two in years; but there are some years that might count for ten." + +"It is this horrible pressure upon you; you are being tortured to +death!" + +"Hush, my child. What I suffer is but the just and natural consequence +of what I did. Be patient, both for me and for yourself. By-and-by we +shall see that all is right." + +Hard doctrine! and only to be learnt by long endurance. Lucia rebelled +against it, but she could not argue with her mother's pale face and +faintly spoken words to oppose her. She busied herself softly in such +little offices as her anxiety suggested, and they spoke no more that +night of the subjects nearest to their hearts. + +But when Mrs. Costello was alone, she began to think of Maurice. She +felt, even before she began to think, that something which had been a +stay and prop to her hitherto had suddenly been snatched away, and she +had now to realize that this support was her confidence in him. For a +long time she had grown accustomed to rest upon the idea that a safe +and honourable future was secured for her child, and this had made +present trials and difficulties endurable. She had seen Percy's +courtship with bitter disappointment, although she had miscalculated its +issue, and through all her sympathy with Lucia, she had secretly +rejoiced at his dismissal; she had felt no scruples in hearing from +Maurice, at the very moment when his prospects had suddenly changed and +brightened, the assurance of his attachment, and she had received his +note that very day with a joy which almost resembled that which a girl +feels who hears from his own lips that her absent lover is faithful to +her. To this mother, cut off from every tie but that of motherhood, her +child was the one only absorbing interest; she had loved Maurice, but +she knew now that she had loved him chiefly as the representative of +Lucia's future safety and happiness. It had never occurred to her that +her own strange marriage, that the race or the character of her husband, +which had been recognized by both mother and daughter as insuperable +obstacles in Percy's case, would estrange the nobler and truer nature. +The whole miserable story would have to be told, she had thought, when +the time came, but she had neither feared its effect on Maurice nor felt +any compunction at the idea of his carrying into an honourable family a +wife whose parentage was her terror and disgrace. + +But now that the disgrace had grown immeasurably darker, now that her +story might have to be told, not privately and with extenuation, but in +coarse hard words, and to the whole of the little world that knew her; +now that every one who would, might be able to point at her as the +daughter of a murderer,--how would it be? + +With the feeling that at length she was indeed left alone and helpless, +Mrs. Costello put from her the last fragment of her dream. There was +still, it is true, the want of positive knowledge that Christian was the +criminal, but in her own heart she had already accepted the evidence +against him, and it seemed to her that all which remained to be done +with regard to Maurice was to write and tell him, not all the +truth--there was no need for that, and he might hear it soon enough from +other sources--but that the hopes they had both indulged in had deceived +them, and must be laid aside and forgotten. + +And when her long meditation came to an end, she said softly to herself, + +"Thank God, _she_ does not know. And I have been ready to complain of +the very unconsciousness which has saved her this!" + +Mr. Leigh was surprised, as Lucia had expected, when she went next day, +just as usual, to pay him her morning visit. He was easily satisfied, +however, with the slight reasons she gave him for their delay, and glad +of anything that kept them still at the Cottage. + +There was no need for her to ask any questions about the event of +yesterday. All that was known by every one had been told to Mr. Leigh +already by an early visitor, and he, full of horror and sympathy, was +able to tell the terrible story over again to a listener, whose deep and +agonizing interest in it he never suspected. + +But to stay, after the certainty she sought for was obtained; to talk +indifferently of other matters; to regulate face and voice so as to show +enough, but not too much, of the tumult at her heart, was a task before +which Lucia's courage almost gave way. Yet it was done. No impatience +betrayed her, no sign of emotion beyond that of natural feeling for +others was allowed to escape her; only her hands, which lay quietly +clasped together in her lap, gradually tightened and contracted till the +pressure of her slight fingers was like that of iron. + +At last she was released; and exhausted as if with hard physical +exertion, she came back to the Cottage with her news. + +There was no need to tell it. The hopeless look which, when she dared be +natural, settled in her eyes, told plainly enough that there was no +mistake of identity. Only one hope remained, and that so feeble that +neither dared to acknowledge it in her heart, though she might speak of +it as existing--the hope that after all the prisoner might be innocent. + +Mrs. Costello wrote that day to her faithful friend and counsellor, Mr. +Strafford. + +"I am in a terrible strait," she said, "and it is to you only in this +world that I can look for aid. My whole life, as you know, has been +given to my daughter--for her I have thought and planned, and in her I +have had my daily consolation. But now I begin to remember that I am not +a mother only, but also a wife. Have I a right to forget it? Can +anything excuse a wife who does so? Tell me what I ought to do; for if +ever I am to think of my husband it must be now. + +"Yet it seems to me that, for Lucia's sake, I must still, if possible, +keep my secret. I long to send her away from me, at this moment, but she +has no friends at a distance from Cacouna, and besides, our separation +would certainly excite notice. I might, indeed, send her to England; my +cousin, I believe, would receive her for a while; but there, you know, I +cannot follow her, and a long parting is more than I have courage to +think of. So I come back to the same point from which I started. I am +almost bewildered by this new wretchedness that has fallen upon us; and +I wait for your sympathy and counsel with most impatient eagerness." + +She had not, however, to wait long. The country post, always irregular, +for once favoured her anxiety, and only two days afterwards came a +hurried note, bringing the best possible answer. Mr. Strafford wrote, + +"The fact of one of my people being in such trouble would bring me to +Cacouna if I had no other reason for coming. I shall be with you, +therefore, the day after you receive this. No one, I should think, +need, for the present at least, know of any connection whatever between +your family affairs and my visit. My errand is to try what can be done +for the unhappy prisoner, and, as an old friend, I shall ask your +hospitality during my stay. Then I will give you what advice and help I +can; of my truest and warmest sympathy I know I need give you no +assurance." + +To both mother and daughter this note brought comfort, though Lucia had +no knowledge whatever of the many thoughts regarding her father which +had begun to occupy her mother's mind. To her, strange and unnatural as +it may seem, he was simply an object of fear and abhorrence. She hated +him as the cause of her mother's sufferings, of their false and insecure +position, and of the self-loathing which possessed her when she thought +of their relationship. The idea of any wifely duty owing to him could +never have struck her, for what visions of married life she had, +belonged to a world totally unlike that of her parents' experience, and +she regarded what she knew of that as something beyond all reach of +ordinary rules or feelings. + +Yet much as she would have wondered had she known it, her mother's +thoughts were coming to be hour by hour more occupied with that long +unseen and dreaded husband, who had indeed been her tyrant, but who was +still bound to her by ties of her own weaving, and who was the father of +her child. A strange mixture of feelings had taken the place of her old +fear and disgust; there was still horror, especially of the new guilt +which separated him more than ever from her purer world, but there was a +deep and yearning pity also. She felt sure, before Mr. Strafford +arrived, that he would tell her she was right; that Christian--even by +the very act which had put him out of the ranks of ordinary men, out of +the place, low and degraded as it was, which he had filled among his own +people--had recovered a claim upon her, and that she must not fail to +give him in his need what succour might be possible. She was right, and +Lucia heard with dismay that their secret was about to be betrayed to +the very person from whom most of all it had hitherto been kept. + +Nothing, however, was to be done rashly. Mr. Strafford arrived late in +the evening, and next day he proposed to go to the jail to see +Christian, which he knew there would be no difficulty in doing, and to +bring back to Mrs. Costello such an account as would enable her to judge +how far her interference might or might not be useful. There was still a +chance that it might be useless, and to that hope Lucia clung with a +pertinacity which added to her mother's anxieties. + +In the three days which had now passed since the murder, the minds even +of those most nearly concerned had had time to rally a little from the +first shock, and to begin to be conscious of the world around them going +on just as usual in spite of all. Doctor Morton had been to a singular +degree without relatives. An old and infirm uncle, living a long +distance from Cacouna, was almost the only person connected with him by +blood; it was to her own family alone, therefore, that Bella had to look +for the deepest sympathy. But the whole neighbourhood had known her from +a child; and in her great grief every one seemed ready to claim a share. +All the kindness and goodness of heart which in ordinary times was +hidden away under the crust of each different character, flowed out +towards the young widow, and as she sat in her desolate house, sorrow +seemed to invest her with its royalty, and to transform her old friends +into loyal subjects, eager to do her but the smallest service. + +And in the midst of this universal impulse of sympathy, and of the +reverence which great suffering inspires, it was impossible for the +Costellos to remain apart. Their own share in the misery did not prevent +them from feeling for the others who knew nothing of their partnership; +and Lucia forgot to accuse herself of hypocrisy when she was admitted +into the darkened room, where her once gay companion sat and watched +with heavy eyes the passing of those first days of widowhood. No one +would have recognized Bella Latour now. She sat, wan and half-lifeless, +caring for nothing except now and then to draw round her more closely a +great shawl in which she was wrapped, as if the only sensation of which +she was still capable were that of cold. Hour after hour she neither +spoke nor moved, until her sister, alarmed, and anxious by any means to +arouse her from her stupor, implored Lucia to see her, to try to make +her speak or shed the tears which, since she had seen the body of her +husband, seemed to be frozen up. + +Mrs. Bellairs had not been mistaken in hoping for some good result from +Lucia's visit. At the sight of her a flood of colour rushed to Bella's +deathlike face, and she half rose to meet her; but when she felt the +long tender kiss which had a whole world of tender pity in its silent +language, she turned suddenly away, and throwing herself upon a couch, +sobbed with the passionate vehemence of a child. From that moment she +was eager to keep Lucia with her. She did not care to speak, but the +sight of one so associated with her lost happiness seemed a consolation +to her; and thus, with her own heavy weight of uncertainty and distress, +the poor girl had to take up and bear patiently such share as she could +of her friend's. After the first, too, there came back such a horrible +sensation of being a kind of accessory to the crime which had been +committed, that the mere sight of Bella's face was torture to her. + +In this way the day of Mr. Strafford's arrival and the next one, that of +his first visit to the jail, passed with Lucia. It was not until quite +evening that she could leave the closed-up house and its mistress; and +never had a road seemed so long to her as that from Cacouna to the +Cottage. Her mind, roused into feverish activity, recurred to the night +when she had met Percy on that very road; she saw again, in imagination, +the figure of the Indian--of her father, as she now believed--rising up +from the green bank. She saw Percy, and heard his words, and then +remembered with bitter shame and anger that the brutal creature from +whom he had saved her, had nevertheless had power to separate them for +ever. And to this creature her mother thought herself still bound! She +grew wild with impatience to know the result of Mr. Strafford's +mission. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Lucia came with flushed cheeks and beating heart into the presence of +her mother and Mr. Strafford. She longed to have her question answered +at once, yet dreaded to ask it. They were waiting tea for her; and the +bright cheerful room, with its peaceful home-look, the table and +familiar tea-service, the perfectly settled and calm aspect of +everything about, struck upon her disturbed fancy with a jarring sense +of unfitness. But in a very little while the calm began to have a more +reasonable effect; and by the time tea was over, she was ready to hear +what had been done, without such an exaggerated idea of its importance, +as she had been entertaining during her long hours of suspense. + +Yet still she did not ask; and after a little while, Mrs. Costello said, + +"Mr. Strafford has been all the afternoon in Cacouna. I have scarcely +had time yet to hear all he had to tell me." + +Lucia glanced at her mother and then at their friend; she was glad the +subject had been commenced without her, and only expressed by her eyes +the anxiety she felt regarding it. + +Mr. Strafford looked troubled. He felt, with a delicacy of perception +which was almost womanly, the many sided perplexities increasing the +already heavy trial of Mrs. Costello's life. He grieved for the child +whom he had known from her birth now plunged so young into a sea of +troubles, and as he saw how bravely and steadily she met them, his +desire to help and spare her grew painfully strong. If he could have +said to them both, "Go, leave the miserable wretch to his fate, and find +a home where you will never need to fear him again," he would have done +it with most genuine relief and satisfaction; but he could not do so--at +least, not yet; and duty was far from easy at that moment. + +"Yes," he said as cheerfully as he could, in answer to Lucia's glance. +"I have been in Cacouna for some hours to-day and I shall be there again +to-morrow. I own, Lucia, I have not unlimited faith in circumstantial +evidence." + +Lucia started, and her heart seemed to give a great leap--could he mean +that the prisoner was innocent? A week ago she would have said that the +burden of disgrace lay upon them too heavily to be much increased by +anything that could happen, and now she knew by the wild throb of hope +how its weight had been doubled and trebled since the shadow of murder +had been hanging over them. But the hope died out at once, for there was +nothing in her mind to feed it, and she had sunk back into her enforced +quiet before she answered, + +"Will you tell me what the evidence is, if you have heard at all +exactly, and what you have seen to-day?" + +There was nothing of girlish excitement or agitation in her words or +tone. Mr. Strafford wondered a little, but at once did as she asked. + +"The evidence appears to be very simple and straightforward. From the +way in which the crime was committed and the body found, there is no +reason to suppose that it had been planned beforehand. The mode in which +death was inflicted showed, on the other hand, that it was not the +result of a hasty or chance blow--but really a murder, though +unpremeditated. Quite near to the place where the body lay, a man was +found hidden among the bushes. His hands and clothes were marked with +blood; he had by him a hatchet which had all the appearance of having +been used to inflict the wounds on the murdered man, and a heavy stick +which might well have given the first blow. His being but clumsily +hidden is accounted for easily, for he was evidently intoxicated; and +lastly, he is known to have been connected with a party of smugglers who +used to land their goods on Beaver Creek, and who had reason to dislike +Doctor Morton." + +A deeper breath, a slight relaxing of the closed lips, were the only +signs from either mother or daughter how this brief and clear account, +riveting as it did upon their minds the certainty of guilt, had been +endured as people endure the necessary torture of the surgeon's knife. +Neither spoke, but waited for what was to follow. + +Mr. Strafford's tone changed. "I have told you what you will have to +hear from others," he said; "and, without doubt a stronger case would be +difficult to find. Unless something new should come to light, I do not +think many people will even feel the least uncertainty on the subject. +But I do." + +He paused, and then went on; not, however, without keeping an anxious +watch on the faces opposite to him, lest his touch, however gentle, +should press too hardly upon their quivering nerves. + +"In the first place it appears that there is a man on whom, if this +prisoner could be cleared, suspicion would naturally fall. This man, +Clarkson, I dare say you know by repute far better than I do, who never +heard of him till to-day; but he appears to have so bad a character that +no one would be shocked or surprised to hear that he was the murderer. +He had also a much stronger ill-will against Doctor Morton than any one +else, either Indian or white man, can be shown to have had. But yet +there is such an entire absence of any proof whatever that he did commit +the crime, that unless I wanted you to understand _all_ my reasons for +uncertainty, I would not speak of him even here in connection with it. + +"My next reason seems almost as shadowy as this; but it has considerable +weight with me, nevertheless. It is, that I believe the man who is in +prison for the murder has neither strength of body nor of nerve to have +committed it." + +He stopped as Mrs. Costello uttered a broken exclamation of surprise. + +"You would not know him," Mr. Strafford said gently, answering her look. +"He has changed so much since I saw him not many weeks ago, that even I +scarcely did so. They tell me that he has had an attack of fever while +he was in the bush, and that he was but half recovered from it when he +came back with the rest of the gang, a week ago." + +"And since then," Mrs. Costello asked, "where has he been?" + +"Not where he was likely to regain much strength. He and the other +Indians have been living in one of the shanties close to the mill. It is +extremely swampy and unhealthy there, and besides that, he seems to have +been almost without food, living upon whisky." + +Lucia shuddered still; but the wretched picture softened her, +nevertheless. A feeling of compassion for the first time stole into her +heart for the miserable creature who was her father. + +"But that day," she said; "do you know anything of that day?" + +"He seems to have been doing nothing--indeed I believe he had been +incapable of doing anything--for two or three days. That morning his +companions went out and left him lying on his bed asleep; they did not +see him again till after he was in custody." + +"Did you question him? What does he say?" + +"He says nothing. He remembers nothing. He seems to me to have been +suffering that day from a return of his fever, and besides that, he had +had some whisky--very little would overcome a man in his condition--so +that if he crawled out into the sunshine, and finally lay down among the +bushes to sleep, it is perfectly credible that the murder might have +been committed close to him without his knowing anything about it." + +"But the hatchet? Was it not his?" + +"Yes. But he denies--whatever his denial may be worth--that the heavy +stick which was found by him, ever was his; and though it is a hard +thing to say, it can be imagined that the very things which fasten +suspicion on him may have been arranged for that purpose by another +person." + +"He does say something on the subject then, since he denies the stick +being his? Did he talk to you willingly on the subject?" asked Mrs. +Costello. + +Mr. Strafford answered her question by another. + +"Have you courage and strength to see him?" + +"Yes; if you think it well for me to do so." + +Lucia caught her mother's hand. + +"You have not, mamma, you must not go! Mr. Strafford, she cannot bear +the exertion." + +"You do not know what I can bear, my child. Certainly this, if it is +needful or advisable." + +"You will find it less trying in some ways than you perhaps expect," Mr. +Strafford went on, "and in others more so. There is nothing in the man +you will see to remind you of the past, and yet my great reason for +thinking it well for you to see him is a hope that you may be able to +recall the past to him, so as to bring him back to something like +clearness of comprehension. It seems as if nothing less would do so." + +"What do you mean? Does not he know you?" + +"I can scarcely tell. I do not know why I should not tell you plainly +the truth, which you will have to hear before you see him. His mind is +either completely gone, or terror and imprisonment have deadened it for +the time. The other men who have been working with him say that he was +sane enough when he was sober up to the time of the murder. Certainly he +is not sane now. But that may well be a temporary thing caused by his +illness and the confinement." + +Mrs. Costello had covered her face with her hands. + +"And you think," she said, looking up, "that the sight of me might bring +back his recollection. But is there anything to be gained by doing so if +we succeed? Is not his insanity the best thing that could happen?" + +"I think not in this case. People seem to have made up their minds that +he was sane enough, on that day, to be accountable for what he did; and +if we could only recall him to himself, he might be able to give us +some clue to the truth." + +"I will go then," she answered; and Lucia saw that it would be only +inflicting useless pain, to make any further objections. But she was not +satisfied. + +Mr. Strafford saw her concerned and uneasy look, and said, + +"It is an experiment worth trying, Lucia. If it does not succeed, I +promise that I will not recommend it to be repeated." + +"But, Mr. Strafford, all Cacouna will know of my mother's going to the +jail--she who never goes anywhere." + +"That has been the great difficulty in the way, certainly, but I think +we can manage it. The jailer, Elton, is a good man, and truly concerned +about the condition of his prisoner. He talked to me to-day about him so +compassionately, that I asked whether it would be possible for any one +residing in the town to be allowed to visit him. He said any one I chose +to bring with me should see him, and therefore there need be no gossip +or surprise at your mother going, first of all." + +There was no more to be said; and each of the three was glad to let the +conversation drop and try to turn their thoughts to other and less +painfully absorbing subjects. But to mother and daughter all other +subjects were but empty words; memory in the former, and imagination in +the latter were busy perpetually with that one who, by the laws of God +and man, ought to have been the third at their fireside--who had been +for years a vagrant and an outcast, and was now the inmate of a +murderer's cell. Innocent perhaps--and it was strange how that +possibility seemed slowly but surely to grow in both their minds; +shadowing over, and promising by-and-by to dim in their remembrance the +hideous recollections of the past. + +Mr. Strafford's words had thus already begun to bear fruit. As for +himself, the doubt he had expressed was merely a doubt--a matter of +speculation, not of feeling. Still, while it remained in his mind, it +was a sufficient reason for using every possible means of discovering +the truth, and scarcely needed the additional impulse given by his warm +regard for Mrs. Costello and Lucia, to induce him to devote himself, as +far as his other duties would allow, to the unfortunate Christian. He +was anxious to bring the long separated husband and wife together, not +merely for the reason he had spoken of, but because he thought that if +their meetings promised comfort or benefit to the prisoner, it would be +his wife's duty to continue them; while if they proved useless, she +might be released from all obligation to remain at Cacouna. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The change which had taken place in the fortunes of Maurice Leigh was +one that might have dazzled him a little, if he had not had a strong +counteracting influence in the thought of all he had left in Canada. He +found himself, without hesitation or difficulty, but with a suddenness +which was like the transformations in a fairy tale, changed from a +Backwoods farmer's son into an important member of an old and wealthy +family. Only the other day he had been working hard and holding up to +himself as the reward of his work, the hope of becoming a successful +provincial lawyer; now he was the heir, and all but the actual +possessor, of a splendid fortune and an estate which gave him a foremost +place among English country gentlemen. + +His arrival at Hunsdon, his grandfather's house, had been a moment of +some embarrassment both to him and to Mr. Beresford. Each had some +feeling of prejudice against the other, yet each felt that it was only +by having a mutual liking and regard that they could get on comfortably +together. Happily their very first meeting cleared up all doubts on the +subject. Mr. Beresford instantly decided that a grandson who so strongly +resembled his own family, and who even in the backwoods had managed to +grow up with the air and manner of a gentleman, would be, in a year or +two, quite qualified to become Squire of Hunsdon, and that in the +meantime he would be a pleasant companion. + +Maurice, on the other hand, forgot his grandfather's former harshness, +and reproached himself for his unwillingness to come to England, when he +saw how solitary the great house was, and how utterly the feeble and +paralytic old man was left to the care and companionship of servants. He +wondered at first that this should be so, for the rich generally have no +want of friends; but the puzzle soon explained itself as he began to +know his grandfather better. Mr. Beresford had been a powerful and very +active man; he had been proud of his strength and retained it to old +age. Then, suddenly, paralysis came, and he was all at once utterly +helpless. His son was dead, his granddaughter married, and away from +him; his pride shrank from showing his infirmity to other relatives. So +he shut the world out altogether, and by-and-by the loneliness he thus +brought upon himself, growing too oppressive, he began to long for his +daughter's children. + +The moment Maurice came, and he was satisfied that he should like him, +he became perfectly content. His property was entirely in his own power, +and one of his first proceedings was, rather ostentatiously, to make a +will which was to relieve him of all future trouble about its disposal; +his next to begin a regular course of instruction, intended to fit his +grandson perfectly for the succession which was now settled upon him. + +In this way, two or three weeks passed on, and Maurice grew accustomed +to Hunsdon and to the sober routine of an invalid's life. It was not a +bright existence, certainly. The large empty house looked dreary and +deserted; and the library to which Mr. Beresford was carried every +morning, and where he lay all day immovable on his sofa, had the quiet +dulness of aspect which belongs to an invalid's room. There had been +some few visitors since Maurice's arrival, and what neighbours there +were within a reasonable distance seemed disposed to be as friendly as +possible; but still the monotony of this new life left him enough, and +more than enough, leisure for speculations on the past and future, which +had a large mixture of disturbing and uneasy thoughts to qualify their +brightness. He waited, too, with considerable curiosity for the return +of his cousin, who, with her husband, was away from home when he +arrived. She had married a neighbouring baronet, and when at home was a +frequent visitor at Hunsdon; and this was all that Maurice could learn +about her. + +But one morning, as he sat with Mr. Beresford, and the usual daily +conversation, or rather lecture, about some affairs connected with the +management of the estate was in full progress, a pony-carriage swept +past the windows and stopped at the door. + +"It is Louisa," said Mr. Beresford, and the next minute the door of the +room opened, and a little woman came in. She was so very little, that if +she had chosen, she might have passed for a child; but she had no such +idea. On the contrary, she had a way of enveloping herself in sweeping +draperies and flowing robes that gave her a look of being much taller +and infinitely more dignified than Nature had intended. She came in, in +a kind of cloud, through which Maurice only distinguished an exceedingly +pretty bright face, and a quantity of fair hair, together with a sort of +soft feminine atmosphere which seemed all at once to brighten the dull +room as she went straight up to her grandfather's sofa, and bent down to +give him a kiss. + +"So you are come back?" Mr. Beresford said. "But you see, I have +somebody else now. Here is your cousin Maurice." + +Lady Dighton turned round and held out her hand. "I am very glad to see +my cousin," she said. "It was quite time you had somebody to take care +of you." + +She had a gay, careless manner, but her smiling eyes took a tolerably +sharp survey of the stranger nevertheless, and she was not ill satisfied +with the result. "He is very good-looking," she said to herself, "and +looks _nice_. Of course he must be very countrified, but we will help +him to rub that off." So she took him under her patronage immediately. +She said no more to him, however, at present, but occupied herself with +her grandfather, asking a great many questions, and telling him of the +places and people she and her husband had seen during their two months' +tour. Mr. Beresford was interested and amused; the little lady possessed +one decided advantage over Maurice, for she and her grandfather belonged +entirely to the same world, though to two different generations, and +could enter into the same subjects and understand the same allusions. +While they talked, Maurice had an opportunity of looking more +deliberately at his cousin. He liked her small graceful figure, her tiny +hands, and bright sunshiny face, with its frame of almost golden hair +arranged in full soft puffs; he liked the air of daintiness and +refinement about her dress, and the musical sound of her voice as she +talked. He admired her the more, perhaps, because she was quite unlike +the type of woman which was, in his thoughts, beyond admiration. But it +did occur to him how lovely Lucia would look, with the same advantages +of wealth and station as Lady Dighton, and a delicious vision swept past +him, of the old house brightening up permanently, under the reign of a +beautiful mistress. + +He had not many minutes, however, for fancies; the most important news +on both sides having been exchanged, the other two were coming to +subjects in which he could join, and went on smoothly and pleasantly +enough till luncheon. After that meal Mr. Beresford always went to +sleep; it was generally Maurice's holiday, when he could ride or walk +out without fear of being missed, but to-day he only strolled out on the +long portico in front of the house, while Lady Dighton went to have a +chat with the housekeeper. + +Presently, however, a gleam of bright colour appeared at the hall door, +and Maurice went forward and met her coming out. + +"Shall I get you a shawl?" he said; "it is not very warm here." + +"No, thank you; I like the cool air. I want to come out and talk to you, +for grandpapa takes up all my attention when I am with him." + +They began walking slowly up and down under the stone colonnade, which +had been added as a decoration to the front of the dark red brick house, +and Lady Dighton went on talking. + +"I was so glad when I heard you were here. Ever since poor papa's death +I have felt quite uncomfortable about grandpapa. I came over to see him +as often as I could, but, of course, I had to think of Sir John." + +"And Dighton is a good way from here?" Maurice said. He had not been +quite sure whether his cousin would not regard him as an interloper, +coming between her and her inheritance; and he was still sufficiently in +the dark, to feel the subject an awkward one. + +"Only six miles, fortunately. I say fortunately, _now_, because I hope +we are going to be very good friends, but till I saw you, I was not sure +whether it was fortunate. It is so disagreeable to have near neighbours +whom one does not like, especially if they are relations." + +Her frankness was amusing, but not very easy to answer. However, the two +or three words he found for the occasion did perfectly well. + +"You are exactly like the Beresfords," she went on, "and that I know +must please grandpapa. He never liked me because I am like my mother's +family. I don't mean that he is not fond of me in one way; I only mean +that my being like the St. Clairs instead of like the Beresfords is one +reason why he would never have left Hunsdon to me when there was +anybody else to leave it to." + +Maurice felt a little relieved and enlightened. His cousin then had +never expected to inherit Hunsdon; he took courage on that, to ask a +question. + +"But as he could not have thought until lately of making a child of my +mother's his heir, who was supposed to stand next in succession to my +uncle?" + +Lady Dighton gave a little sigh to the memory of her father. + +"Grandpapa always wished him to marry again," she said. "Mamma died six +years ago; then I was married, and from that time I know perfectly well +that grandpapa was continually looking out for a new daughter-in-law. He +was disappointed, however; I do not think myself that papa would have +married. At any rate he did not; and then, nearly two years ago, he +died." + +"And has my grandfather been alone ever since?" + +"Yes. For some time he was too much grieved to trouble himself about the +future--and then he was paralysed. Perhaps you have found out already +that Hunsdon is a great deal more to him than so many acres of land and +so much money? He loves it, and cares about it, more I believe than +about any living creature." + +"Yes; I can understand that the future of his estate is quite as +important as the future of a son or daughter would be." + +"Quite. He never could have borne the idea of its being joined to, or +swallowed up by another. Therefore, I do not think, in any case, he +would have left it to me. It was necessary he should have an heir, who +would be really his successor, and I am very glad indeed that he found +you." + +Maurice did not quite understand the slight unconscious sadness of the +tone in which Lady Dighton said, "in any case;" he did not even know +that the one baby who had been for a little while heir of Dighton, and +possible heir of Hunsdon, had died in her arms when the rejoicings for +its birth were scarcely over. But he felt grateful to her for speaking +to him so frankly, and his new position looked the more satisfactory now +he knew that no shadow of wrong was done to any one by his occupying it. + +Lady Dighton understood this perfectly well. She had a quick perception +of the character and feelings of those she associated with; and had +talked to Maurice intentionally of what she guessed he must wish to +hear. She had a great deal more to say to him, still, about her +grandfather and her husband, and the country; and wanted to ask +questions innumerable about his former home in Canada, his mother, and +everything she could think of, the discussion of which would make them +better acquainted. For she had quite decided that, as she said, they +were to be very good friends; and, to put all family interest and ties +on one side, there was something not disagreeable in the idea of taking +under her own peculiar tutelage a young and handsome man, who was quite +new to the world, and about entering it with all the prestige which +attends the heir of fifteen or twenty thousand a year. + +They were still talking busily when Mr. Beresford's man came to say that +his master was awake. They went in together and sat with him for the +rest of the afternoon, until it was time for Lady Dighton to go. When +she did, it was with a promise from Maurice, not to wait for a visit +from Sir John, who was always busy, but to go over and dine at Dighton +very soon; a promise Mr. Beresford confirmed, being in his heart very +glad to see such friendly relations springing up between his two +grandchildren. Maurice, on his side, was equally glad, for not only did +his new friendship promise pleasure to himself, but he had a secret +satisfaction in thinking how well his cousin and Lucia would get on +together if-- + +But then the recollection that he had left Cacouna in possession of Mr. +Percy came to interrupt the very commencement of a day dream. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Maurice paid his visit to Dighton--paid two or three visits, indeed--and +his cousin came to Hunsdon still oftener, so that in the course of a few +weeks, a considerable degree of intimacy grew up between them. Sir John +was, as his wife said, always busy; he was hospitable and friendly to +his new connection, but in all family or social matters he was content, +and more than content, to drop into the shade, and let Lady Dighton act +for both; so that Maurice, like the rest of the world (always excepting +his constituents and tenants), very soon began to consider him merely as +an appendage, useful, certainly, but not of much importance to anybody. + +In the progress of their acquaintance it was natural that the cousins +should often speak of Canada. Lady Dighton understood as little, and +cared as little, about the distant colony as English people generally +do; but she had considerable curiosity as to Maurice's past life; and in +her benevolent efforts to improve and polish him, she was obliged to +recognize the fact that, loyal Englishman as he was by birth, education +and association, he might have said truly enough, + +"Avant tout, je suis Canadien." + +She had no objection whatever to this; on the contrary, she had enough +romance in her disposition to admire all generous and chivalric +qualities, and her cousin's patriotism only made her like him the +better; but in spite of his frankness in most things, she had no idea +that this affection for his native country was linked to and deepened by +another kind of love. Lucia's name had never passed his lips, and she +had no means of guessing how daily and hourly thoughts of one fair young +Canadian girl were inseparably joined to the very roots of every good +quality he possessed. This ignorance did not at all arise from want of +interest. Her feminine imagination, naturally fertile on such subjects, +soon began to occupy itself with speculations in which every eligible +young lady in the country figured in turn. It was not to be supposed +that the heir of Hunsdon would find much difficulty in obtaining a wife; +the really embarrassing task for his mentors was to see that he looked +in the proper direction. And in this matter Mr. Beresford was not wholly +to be trusted. So, as it happened, Lady Dighton began to take a great +deal of perfectly useless thought and care for Maurice's benefit, at the +very time when he, all unconscious of her schemes, was beginning to +consider it possible that he might confide to her the secret of his +anxious and preoccupied thoughts. + +It happened that Mr. Leigh, unaware of the deep interest his son took in +the movements of Mr. Percy, only mentioned him in describing Bella +Latour's wedding, and omitted to say a word about his leaving Cacouna. +Thus it was not until three weeks after his arrival in England that a +chance expression informed Maurice that his dangerous rival was gone +away, without giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he had been +dismissed and was not likely to return. The same mail which brought +this half intelligence, brought also a letter from Mrs. Costello, which +spoke of her own and Lucia's removal as a thing quite settled, though +not immediate, and left the place of their destination altogether +uncertain. These letters threw Maurice into a condition of discomfort +and impatience, which he found hard to bear. He was extremely uneasy at +the idea of his father being left without companion or nurse. This +uneasiness formed, as it were, the background of his thoughts, while a +variety of less reasonable, but more vivid, anxieties held a complete +revel in the foreground. He had not even his old refuge against +troublesome fancies; for work, real absorbing work, of any kind was out +of the question now. His attendance on his grandfather, though often +fatiguing enough, was no occupation for his masculine brain. If he had +been a woman, he would have had a far better chance of imprisoning his +mind as well as his body, in that sober, undisturbed, sick room; but +though he could be almost as tender as a woman, he could not school +himself into that strange kind of feminine patience, which even Lucia, +spoiled child as she was, instinctively practised and grew strong in, +while she tended his father. + +He found himself perpetually losing the thread of some relation or +dissertation which was intended for his benefit, and that of Hunsdon +under his rule; he ran serious risk of displeasing Mr. Beresford, and +finally he became so weary of thinking incessantly of one subject, but +never speaking of it, that he made up his mind to take his cousin to +some degree into his confidence. To some degree only--it could be a very +small degree indeed, according to his ideas, for he could not tell her +all, even of the little he knew, about the Costellos, and he had no +intention of speaking much about Lucia, only mentioning her as an old +playfellow of his sister's; quite forgetting that he would have either +to change his own nature, or to dull Lady Dighton's ears and eyes, +before he could talk of _her_, and not betray himself. + +But a good opportunity for this confidence seemed hard to find, and +whenever one did really occur Maurice let it slip, so that time passed +on, and nothing was said; until at last, a new trouble came, so heavy +and incomprehensible as entirely to eclipse the former ones. + +One morning, about six weeks after his arrival at Hunsdon, there arrived +for Maurice two Canadian letters and a newspaper; the letters from his +father and Mrs. Costello, the newspaper addressed by Harry Scott. +Maurice dutifully opened Mr. Leigh's letter first; he meant just to see +that all was well, and then to read the other; but the news upon which +his eye fell, put everything else for the moment out of his head. He +glanced half incredulously over what his father said, and then tore open +the newspaper to seek for its confirmation. He had not far to seek. Two +columns of the thin provincial sheet were scored with black crosses, and +bore the ominous heading, "Dreadful Murder!" in the largest capitals. He +read the whole terrible story through, and thought, as well as he could, +over it, before he remembered the second and still unopened letter. + +But no sooner had he opened and read this, than the news which had just +before seemed to bring the most fearful realities of life and death so +near to him, faded away almost out of his recollection to make way for +the really personal interest of this calamity. Mrs. Costello wrote, + +"I have done wrong; and I should feel more difficulty, perhaps, in +asking you to forgive me, if I did not, with you, have to regret the +bitter disappointment of my hopes and wishes. You and Lucia must not +meet again, unless, or until, you can do so without any thought of each +other except as old playfellows and friends. This sounds cruel, I know, +and unreasonable,--all the more so after the confidence there has been +between us lately; but you must believe me when I say that I have tried, +more than I ought, to keep for myself the consolation of thinking that +my darling would some day be safe in your care, and that this +consolation has been torn from me. But what can I say to you? My dear +boy, only less dear to me than Lucia, I know you will, you _must_, blame +me, and yet it is for your sake and for that of my own honour that I +separate you from us. You have a right that I should say more, hard as +it is. My daughter, whom you have known almost all her innocent life, +would, if you married her, bring, through those most nearly and +inseparably connected with her, a stain and a blot upon your name; no +honourable man can ever make her his wife, and the best prayer that can +be made for her is, that she may remain as unconscious of all earthly +love as she is now of yours. We are going away, not just yet, but very +soon, to try to lose ourselves in the world; very possibly an +explanation of much that I have not courage to tell you may soon become +so public that even in England you may hear of it, and thank me for what +I have written." + +The letter broke off abruptly, but there was a postscript reminding him +that no one, not even his father, knew more, or, indeed, as much as he +did, of her secret, and bidding him not betray her; this postscript, +however, remained at first unnoticed: there was enough in the letter +itself to bewilder and stupefy its unfortunate reader. He went over it +again and again, trying, trying to understand it; to make certain that +there was not some strange mistake, some other meaning in it than that +which first appeared. But no; it was distinct enough, though the writing +was strangely unsteady, as if the writer's hand had trembled at the +task. The task of doing what? Only of destroying a hope; and hope is not +life, nor even youth, or strength, or sense, or capacity for work, and +yet when Maurice rose from his solitary breakfast-table, and carried his +letters away to his own room, although he looked and moved, and even +spoke to a passing servant just as usual, he felt as if he had been +suddenly paralysed, and struck down from vigorous life into the shadow +of death. He sat in his room and tried to think, but no thoughts came; +only a perpetual reiteration of the words, "You and Lucia must not meet +again." Over and over, and over again, the same still incomprehensible +sentence kept ringing in his ears. It was much the same thing as if some +power had said to him, "You must put away from you, divorce, and utterly +forget, all your past life; all your nature, as it has grown up, to this +present time; and take a different individuality." The two things might +equally well be said, for they were equally impossible. He laughed as +this idea struck him. His senses were beginning to come back, and they +told him plainly enough that any separation from Lucia, except by her +own free choice and will, was as impossible as if they were already +vowed to each other "till death us do part." There was so much comfort +in this conviction that at last he was able to turn to the latter part +of the letter, and to occupy himself with that mysterious yet terrible +sentence, which said that Lucia, his purest and loveliest of women, whom +all his long intimacy had not been able to bring down from the pedestal +of honour and tender reverence on which his love had placed her, would +bring a blot upon her husband's name. + +In the first place, he simply and entirely refused to believe in the +truth of the assertion; it was a fancy, an exaggeration at the least, +and in itself, not a thing to be troubled at; but allowing that the idea +could not have existed in her mother's mind without some foundation, +what could that foundation be? To consider with the most anxious +investigation everything he knew of the Costellos, their life, their +characters, their history, brought him some comfort, but no +enlightenment. He supposed, as all Cacouna did, that Mrs. Costello was +the widow of a Spaniard, and that her husband had died when Lucia was an +infant, but how to make any of these scanty details bear upon the fact +that now, lately, since he himself had left Cacouna, something had +happened, either unforeseen, or only partly foreseen by Mrs. Costello, +which brought disgrace and misery upon her and her child, he did not in +the least understand. Personal disgrace, the shadow of actual ill-doing, +resting upon either mother or daughter, was too utterly improbable a +thought ever even to enter his mind; but what the trouble could be, or +whence it came, he seemed to be less and less capable of imagining, the +more he thought and puzzled over the matter. And the hint that +by-and-by the mystery might be unravelled, not only to him, but to the +whole world, was far from giving him comfort. Rather than have Lucia's +name dragged out for vulgar comment, he would have been content to let +her secret remain for ever undiscovered; and besides, this unwelcome +revelation promised to come too late, when the Cottage was empty and its +dearly loved occupants were gone far away out of his very knowledge. + +Fortunately for Maurice, Mr. Beresford was later than usual in leaving +his room that day, so that he had two hours in which to grow at least a +little accustomed to his new perplexities before he had to attend his +grandfather in the library. Even when he did so, however, he found it +impossible to force his thoughts into any other channel, and his brain +worked all day painfully and fruitlessly at schemes for finding out Mrs. +Costello's secret, and demonstrating to her that far from its being a +reason for depriving him of Lucia, it was an additional reason for +giving her to him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Maurice tried to relieve his impatience by spending the very first half +hour when he was not required to sit with his grandfather, in writing to +Mrs. Costello. If the Atlantic telegraph had but been in operation she +might have been startled by some vehement message coming in immediate +protest against her decision; but as it was, the letter which could not, +at the very best, reach her in much less than a fortnight, was full of +fiery haste and eagerness. As for reason or argument, it made no attempt +at either. It began with a simple unqualified declaration that what she +had said was, as far as it regarded Maurice himself, of no value or +effect whatever, that he remained in exactly the same mind as when he +left Canada, and that nothing whatever would alter him, except Lucia's +preference for some other person. He went on to say that he could still +wait, but that as the strongest purpose of his life would be to give +Lucia the choice of accepting or refusing him as soon as he had a home +to offer her, it was needless unkindness to try to conceal her from him. +Wherever she might be, he should certainly find her in the end, and he +implored her mother to spare him the anxiety and delay of a search. +Finally he wrote, "I cannot understand in the least what you can mean by +the reason you give for casting me off, but you seem to have forgotten +that if any disgrace (I hate to use the word), either real or imaginary, +has fallen upon you, it is the more and not the less needful that you +should have all the help and support I can give you. That may not be +much, but such as it is I have a right to offer it, and you to accept +it." + +The letter wound up with the most urgent entreaties that she would +answer it at once, and give up entirely the useless attempt to separate +him from Lucia; and when it was finished and sent off, quite regardless +of the fact that it would have left England just as soon if written two +days later, he began to feel a little comforted, and as if he had at +any rate put a stop to the worst evil that threatened him. + +But the relief lasted only a few hours. By the next day he was +tormenting himself with all the ingenuity of which he was capable, and +the task of amusing Mr. Beresford was ten thousand times harder than +ever. He did it, and did it better than usual, but only because he was +so annoyed at his own anxiety and absence of mind that he set himself +with a sort of dogged determination to conquer them, or at any rate keep +them out of sight. The more, however, that he held his thoughts shut up +in his own mind, the more active and troublesome they became, and an +idea took possession of him, which he made very few efforts to shake +off, though he could not at first see clearly how to carry it into +execution. + +This idea was that he must return to Canada. He thought that one hour of +actual presence would do more for his cause than a hundred letters--nay, +he did not despair of persuading Mrs. Costello to bring Lucia to +England, where he could keep some watch and guard over them both; but, +at any rate, he had a strong fancy that he might at once learn the +secret of her distress himself, and help her to keep it from others. He +calculated that six weeks' absence from Hunsdon would enable him to do +this, and at the same time to make arrangements for his father's comfort +more satisfactory than the present ones. The last inducement was, of +course, the one he meant to make bear the weight of his sudden anxiety, +and after much deliberation, or what he thought was deliberation, he +decided that the first thing to be done was to interest his cousin in +his plans and try to get her help. + +But as it happened, Lady Dighton was just at that moment away from home. +She and Sir John were staying at a house which, though nearer to Hunsdon +than to their own home, was a considerable distance for morning +visitors, even in the country. Still Maurice, who had some acquaintance +with the family, thought he might ride over and see her there, and take +his chance of being able to get an opportunity of explaining the service +he wanted her to do him. However, a slight increase of illness in Mr. +Beresford prevented him from getting away from home, and he was obliged +to wait with what patience he could for her next visit to Hunsdon. + +Mr. Beresford's health appeared to return to its usual condition, and +grateful for the comfort Maurice's presence had been to him during his +greater suffering, he seemed to be every day more satisfied with and +attached to his heir. The disadvantage of this was that he required more +and more of Maurice's company, and seemed to dislike sparing him a +moment except while he slept. This was not promising for the success of +any scheme of absence, but, on the other hand, there was so much of +reason and consideration for his grandson, mixed with the invalid's +exactions, that it seemed not hopeless to try to obtain his consent. + +After an interval of more than a week, Lady Dighton reappeared at +Hunsdon, and Maurice's opportunity arrived. It was during their +invariable _tête-à-tête_ while Mr. Beresford slept that the wished-for +conversation took place, and Lady Dighton unconsciously helped her +cousin to begin it by telling him laughing that she had been looking out +for a wife for him, and found one that she thought would do exactly. + +"You must contrive by some means or other," she said, "to get away from +Hunsdon a little more than you have been doing, and come over to Dighton +for a day or two, that I may introduce you." + +"I wish with all my heart," he answered quickly, "that I could get away +from Hunsdon for a little while, but I am afraid I should use my liberty +to go much further than Dighton." + +She looked at him with surprise. + +"I did not know," she said, "that you had any friends in England except +here." + +"I have none. What I mean is that I want to go back to Canada for a week +or two." + +"To Canada! The other side of the world! What do you mean?" + +"Nothing very unreasonable. I am very uneasy about my father, who is +almost as great an invalid as my grandfather, and has no one but an old +housekeeper to take care of him. I should like to go and bring him to +England." + +It was very well for Maurice to try to speak as coolly as possible, and +even to succeed in making his voice sound perfectly innocent and +natural, but he was of much too frank a nature to play off this little +piece of dissimulation without a tell-tale change of countenance. Lady +Dighton's sharp eyes saw quite plainly that there was something untold, +but she took no notice of that for the present, and answered as if she +saw nothing. + +"Have you worse accounts of his health?" + +"No; not worse. But he will be quite alone." + +"More alone than when you first left him? I do not quite understand." + +"Yes; some very near neighbours--old friends of his and my mother's--are +going to leave Cacouna. I had no reason to be uneasy about him while +they were there. Do you think my grandfather could be persuaded to spare +me for six weeks?" + +"Not willingly, I think. Could not my uncle come home without your +going?" + +Maurice felt as if he were caught in his own trap, but he recollected +himself in a moment. + +"There would be many things to do," he said. "Affairs to settle, the +farm to sell or let, and the household, small as it is, to break up." + +Lady Dighton laughed outright. + +"And you imagine that you could do all that, and carry your father off +besides, in the space of a fortnight, which is the very utmost you could +possibly have out of your six weeks! Really, Maurice, I gave you credit +for more reasonableness." + +"I have no doubt I could do it," he said, a little vexed, "and of +course I should try to get back as quickly as possible." + +"Well, let me see if I cannot suggest something a little more +practicable. Is there no person who would undertake the management of +the mere business part of the arrangements?" + +"Yes," Maurice answered a little reluctantly. "I dare say there is." + +"As for the breaking up of the household, I should think my uncle would +like to give the directions himself, and I do not see what more you +could do; and for anything regarding his comfort, could not you trust to +those old friends you spoke of?" + +Maurice shook his head impatiently. + +"They are going away--for anything I know, they may be gone now. No, +Louisa, your schemes are very good, but they will not do. I must go +myself; that is, if I can." + +"And the fact of the matter is that you want me to help you to persuade +grandpapa that he can spare you." + +"Will you help me? I know it will be hard. I would not ask him if I were +not half wild with anxiety." + +Lady Dighton looked at her cousin's face, which was indeed full of +excitement. + +"What a good son you are, Maurice," she said slowly. + +Maurice felt the blood rush to his very temples. + +"I am a dreadful humbug," he said, feeling that the confession must +come. "Don't be shocked, Louisa; it is not altogether about my father, +but I tell you the truth when I say that I am half wild." + +She smiled in a sort of satisfied, self-gratulatory way, and said, +"Well," which was just what was needed, and brought out all that Maurice +could tell about the Costellos. He said to himself afterwards that he +had from the first been half disposed to confess the whole story, and +only wanted to know how she was likely to take it; but the truth was +that, being as utterly unskilful as man could be in anything like +deception, he had placed himself in a dilemma from which she only meant +to let him extricate himself by telling her what was really in his mind. + +So Lady Dighton made her first acquaintance with Lucia, not, as Maurice +had dreamed of her doing, in bodily presence, but through the golden +mist of a lover's description; in the midst of which she tried to see a +common-place rustic beauty, but could not quite succeed; and half +against her will began to yield to the illusion (if illusion it was) +which presented to her a queenly yet maidenly vision, a brilliant flower +which might be worth transplanting from the woods even to the stately +shelter of Hunsdon. It was clear enough that this girl, whatever she +might be, had too firm a hold upon Maurice's heart to be easily +displaced; and his cousin, not being altogether past the age of romance +herself, gave up at once all her vague schemes of match-making in his +service, and applied herself to the serious consideration how to obtain +from her grandfather the desired leave of absence. + +She did not, of course, understand all the story. The impression she +derived from what Maurice told her was that Mrs. Costello, after having +encouraged the intimacy and affection between her daughter and him up to +the time of his great change of position and prospects, had now thought +it more honourable to break off their intercourse, and carry her child +away, lest he should feel bound to what was now an unequal connection. +This idea of Lady Dighton's arose simply from a misconception of +Maurice's evident reserve in certain parts of his confidence. _He_ +thought only of concealing all Mrs. Costello would wish concealed; and +_she_ dreamt of no other reason for the change of which he told her, +than the very proper and reasonable one of the recent disparity of +fortune. + +Maurice was so delighted at finding a ready ally that the moment his +cousin signified her willingness to help him, he began to fancy his +difficulties were half removed, and had to be warned that only the first +and least important step had been taken. + +"In the next place," Lady Dighton said, "we must consult Dr. Edwards." + +"What for," asked Maurice in some perplexity. + +"To know whether it would be safe to propose to my grandfather the loss +of his heir." + +"But for six weeks? It is really nothing." + +"Nothing to you or me perhaps, but I am afraid it is a good deal to him, +poor old man." + +"Louisa, I assure you, I would not ask him to spare me for a day if it +were not a thing that must be done now, and that I should all my life +regret leaving undone." + +She looked at him with an amused smile. People in love do so overrate +trifles; but she was really of opinion that he should go if possible. + +"Yes," she said, "I understand that. And I do not myself see any +particular cause for delaying since it must be done. But still I think +it would be well to ask the Doctor's opinion first." + +"That is easy at any rate. He will be here to-morrow morning." + +"And when do you wish to start?" + +"By the first mail. I would not lose an hour if I could help it." + +"You would frighten your father to death. No, you must wait a week +certainly." + +"I wish I were certain of being off in a week." + +"Unreasonable boy! You talk of going across the Atlantic as other people +do of going across the Channel. See, there is Brown, grandpapa must be +awake." + +They went into the library and found Mr. Beresford quite ready for an +hour or two of cheerful chat about the thousand trifles with which his +granddaughter always contrived to amuse him. Then she went away, turning +as she drove off to give Maurice a last encouraging nod; and not long +after, Mr. Beresford complained of being more drowsy than usual, and +asked Maurice to read him to sleep. + +A book, not too amusing, was found, and the reading began; but the +reader's thoughts had wandered far from it and from Hunsdon, when they +were suddenly recalled by a strange gurgling gasping sound. Alas! for +Maurice's hopes. His grandfather lay struggling for the second time in +the grasp of paralysis. + +They carried him to his bed, dumb and more than half unconscious; and +there day after day, and week after week, he lay between life and death; +taking little notice of anybody, but growing so restlessly uneasy +whenever Maurice was out of his sight, that all they thought of doing +was contriving by every possible means to save him the one disquiet of +which he still seemed capable. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The day after that on which Mr. Strafford paid his first visit to the +jail at Cacouna, was the one fixed for Doctor Morton's funeral. Lucia +knew that other friends would be with Bella, and was thankful to feel +herself at liberty to stay at home--to be with her mother up to the +moment of her going to that interview which Mr. Strafford advised, and +to be on the spot at her return to hear without delay whatever its +result might be. + +In the afternoon, while the whole town was occupied with the ceremony +which had so deep and painful an interest for everybody, Mrs. Costello +and her faithful friend started for the jail. They said little to each +other on the way, but as they drew near the end of their walk, Mrs. +Costello began to talk about indifferent subjects by way of trying to +lift for a moment the oppressive weight of thought which seemed almost +to stupefy her. But the effort was to little purpose, and by the time +they reached the door of the prison she was so excessively pale, and +looked so faint and ill, that Mr. Strafford almost repented of his +advice. It was too late now, however, to turn back, and all that could +be done was to say, "Take courage; don't betray yourself by your face." +The hint was enough, to one so accustomed to self-restraint; and when +the jailer met them, she had forced herself to look much as usual. + +But though she had sufficient command over herself to do this, and even +to join, as much as was necessary, in the short conversation which took +place before they were admitted to the prisoner's cell, she could not +afterwards remember anything clearly until the moment when she followed +Mr. Strafford through a heavy door, and found herself in the presence of +her husband. + +Then she seemed suddenly to wake, and the scene before her to flash at +once and ineffaceably into her mind. It was a clean bare room, with a +bed in one corner, and a chair and table in the middle; the stone +walls, the floor and ceiling, all white, and a bright flood of sunshine +coming in through the unshaded window. Sitting on the only chair, with +his arms spread over the table, and his head resting on them, was the +prisoner. His face was hidden, but the coarse, disordered dress, the +long hair, half grey, half black, lying loose and shaggy over his bony +hands, the dreary broken-down expression of his attitude, made a picture +not to be looked upon without pity. Yet the thing that seemed most +pathetic of all was that utter change in the man which, even at the +first glance, was so plainly evident. This visitor, standing silent and +unnoticed by the door, had come in full of recollections, not even of +him as she had seen him last, but of him as she had married him twenty +years ago. Of _him?_ It seemed almost incredible--yet for the very sake +of the past and for the pitiful alteration now, she felt her heart yearn +towards that desolate figure, and going softly forward she laid her hand +upon his shoulder. + +"Christian!" she said in a low and trembling voice. + +The prisoner slowly moved, as if waking from a doze. He raised his +head, pushed back his tangled hair and looked at her. + +What a face! It needed all her pity to help her to repress a shudder; +but there was no recognition in the dull heavy eyes. + +"Christian," she repeated. "See, I am your wife. I am Mary, who left +Moose Island so many years ago." + +Still he looked at her in the same dull way, scarcely seeming to see +her. + +"Mary," he repeated mechanically. "She went away." Then changing to his +own language, he said with more energy, "She is hidden, but I shall find +her; no fear," and his head sank down again upon his arm. + +His wife trembled as she heard the old threat which had pursued her for +so long, but she would not be discouraged. She spoke again in Ojibway, + +"She is found. She wants to help and comfort her husband. She is here. +Raise your head and look at her." + +He obeyed, and looked steadily at her, but still with the look of one +but half awake. + +"No," he said slowly. "All lies. Mary is not like you. She has bright +eyes, and brown hair, soft and smooth like a bird's wing. I beat her, +and she ran away. Go! I want to sleep." + +Mr. Strafford came forward. + +"Have you forgotten me, too, Christian?" he asked. + +Christian turned to him with something like recognition. + +"No. You were here yesterday. Tell them to let me go away." + +"It is because I want to persuade them to let you go, that I am here +now, and your--this lady, whom you do not remember, also." + +"What does a squaw know? Send her away." + +A look passed between the two friends, and the wife moved to a little +distance from her husband, where she was out of his sight. + +"I wish," Mr. Strafford said, "you could tell me exactly what you were +doing the day they brought you here." + +"I was sleeping," Christian answered. "I lay under the bush, and went to +sleep; and then they came and woke me, and brought me here. I want air!" +he cried, suddenly changing his tone, and springing up, he rushed to the +grated window, and seemed to gasp for breath. The small lattice stood +open, but the prisoner, devoured by fever, could not be satisfied with +such coolness as came in through it. He seized the iron bars with +trembling hands and tried to shake them; then finding it useless, went +back to his chair, and covering his face, burst into tears. + +Mrs. Costello was instantly at his side. In her strange, short married +life she had given no caresses to her tyrant; now, upon this miserable +wreck, she lavished all the compassionate tenderness of her heart. Mr. +Strafford stood by helpless, yielding to the woman her natural place of +comforter. For a moment, as she held his head upon her bosom and laid +her cool soft hand upon his burning forehead, Christian seemed to +recognize her; he looked up into her face piteously, and once or twice +repeated to himself, "Mary, Mary," but memory would not help him +further. She soothed him, however, much as if he had been some wretched +sick child, and after a time persuaded him to lie down on his bed, +where, almost immediately, he fell asleep. + +So they left him, and in going out, heard from the jailer that he often +slept thus for hours together--rarely eating, and asking only for water +and air. + +One thing had been effected by their visit. From the moment when the +prisoner, powerless henceforward to hurt or terrify her, was supported +by his wife's arms, and soothed by her voice, she began to believe, +completely and for ever, in his innocence of the crime of which he was +accused, and to be ready to fight his battle with all her energy and all +her resources. Only the recollection of Lucia prevented her from +instantly avowing the relationship so long concealed; and in the first +warmth of a generous reaction, she almost regretted that she had not +sent her child away, even to England, that she might now be free to +devote herself to Christian. On their return to the Cottage they found +Lucia watching with feverish anxiety for their coming and their news; +but it was not until mother and daughter were shut up together in Mrs. +Costello's room that all could be told. Nor even then; for the wife's +heart had been too deeply touched; and not even her child could see into +its troubled tender depths. But, nevertheless, Lucia caught from her +mother the blessed certainty that, though man's justice might not clear +the prisoner of murder, heaven's did; and they rejoiced together over +this poor comfort, as if all the rest of their burden were easy to bear. + +Afterwards a council was held as to what could be done for Christian's +defence. All legal help possible must be obtained, they decided, at any +risk; but to the two women this did not seem enough. One of them, at +least, would have liked to try any scheme, however difficult or absurd, +for fixing the guilt upon the true criminal, and so saving the false +one; but so far from that, they must not even suffer their agitation and +keen interest to be noticed; the very lawyers must be engaged with +caution or bound to secrecy. As long as their secret _could_ be kept, it +must. And Mr. Strafford could not remain at Cacouna. He had come +promptly to the help of the one unfortunate member of his flock, but the +little community on the island always felt his absence grievously, and +three or four days was the utmost he could spare at a time. Mrs. +Costello greatly desired to see her husband again, but to do so without +Mr. Strafford's presence was a trial from which she shrank, and which he +thought there was not sufficient reason for her to undergo. It was +decided therefore that he should make arrangements by which, and by the +kindness of the jailer, she should be kept constantly informed of his +condition of health, both mental and bodily. "If he should be either +worse in body or better in mind," she said, "I shall go to him at once; +and I have a strong presentiment that he will need me before long." + +A separate consultation from which Lucia was excluded, ended in a +decision to which she would certainly not have consented, however she +might, later, be obliged to yield to it. This was, that if Mrs. Costello +should feel herself called upon to avow her marriage for her husband's +sake, Lucia should first be sent to England and confided to the care of +her mother's cousin, George Wynter, so that she, at least, might be +spared the hard task of facing her small familiar world under a new and +degraded character. But of this plan Lucia suspected nothing. Her +thoughts travelled as often as ever they had done, to that misty _terra +incognita_ which Canadians still call "Home," for now Maurice was there, +and perhaps (but for that thought she reproved herself) Percy also; but +she had now wholly given up her dreams of visiting it, and most surely +would not have resumed them with the prospect of leaving her mother in +sorrow and alone. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +After a time of so much stress and excitement, there followed a pause--a +period of waiting, both for the mother and daughter at the Cottage, and +for the small world of Cacouna, which had been startled by the crime +committed in its very midst. As for the Costellos, when all the little +that they could do for the prisoner had been done, they had only to +occupy themselves with their old routine, or as much of it as was still +possible, and to try to bring their thoughts back to the familiar +details of daily life. Household affairs must be attended to; Mr. Leigh +must be visited, or coaxed out of his solitude to sit with them; other +visits must be paid and received, and reasons must be found to account +to their neighbours for the putting off of that journey which had +excited so much surprise in anticipation. And so, as days went on, habit +gradually came to their assistance, and by-and-by there were hours when +they asked themselves whether all the commotion and turmoil of the last +few weeks had been anything but a dream. + +Beyond the Cottage, too, life had returned to its usual even flow. One +household, it is true, was desolate; but that one had existed for so +short a time that the change in it had scarcely any effect on the +general current of daily affairs. Bella went away immediately after the +funeral. Mrs. Bellairs had begun to despair of rousing her from her +stupor of grief and horror, while she remained in the midst of all that +could remind her of her husband; and, therefore, carried her away almost +by force to the house of some relations near Toronto. When she came +back, it would be to return to her old place in her brother-in-law's +house, a pale, silent woman in widow's weeds, the very ghost of the gay +bride who had left it so lately. + +By Mrs. Morton's absence Lucia was relieved from her most painful task; +for, although she now no longer felt herself the daughter of the +murderer, there was so much disingenuousness in her position as the +most loved and trusted friend of the woman who still regarded her father +as the criminal, as to make it in the highest degree irksome to be with +her. She now tried to occupy herself as much as possible at home; and +while she did so, the calm to which she had forced herself outwardly +began to sink into her heart, and she found, almost with surprise, that +former habits of thought, and old likes and dislikes, had survived her +mental earthquake, and still kept their places when the dust had +settled, and the _debris_ were cleared away. One old habit in particular +would have returned as strongly as ever, if circumstances had +allowed--it was that of consulting and depending on Maurice in a +thousand little daily affairs. Since the first two days of his absence +there had been until now so constant a rush and strain of events and +emotions, that she had not had time to miss him much; on the contrary, +indeed, she had had passing sensations of gladness that he was not near +at certain crises to pierce with his clear eyes and ready intuition, +quite through the veil of composure which she could keep impervious +enough to others. But now that the composure began to be more than a +mere veil, and that her whole powers were no longer on the full stretch +to maintain it; now, too, when everything outwardly went on the same as +it had done three months ago, before Mr. Percy came to Cacouna, or the +story of Christian had been told; now, she wanted the last and strongest +of all old habits to be again practicable, and to see her old companion +again at hand. She remained, however, totally unsuspicious of all that +had passed between her mother and Maurice. She even fancied, sometimes, +that Mrs. Costello did Maurice the injustice of believing him changed by +the change of his circumstances, and that her affection for him had in +consequence cooled. + +"Of course," she said to herself, "if he were here now, and with us as +he used to be, we should always have the feeling that by-and-by, when +the truth comes to be known, or when we go away, we should have to part +with him. But, still, it would be nice to have him. And I do not believe +that, _at present_, he is changed towards us. Mr. Leigh thinks he wants +to come back to Canada." + +So she meditated more and more on the subject, because it was free from +all agitating remembrances, and because Mrs. Costello was silent +regarding it; and if poor Maurice, chafing with impatience and anxiety +while he watched his helpless half-unconscious grandfather, could have +had a peep into her mind, he would have consoled himself by seeing that +little as she thought of the _kind_ of affection he wanted from her, she +was giving him a more and more liberal measure of such as she had. + +A little while ago the same glimpse which would have consoled Maurice +might have comforted Mrs. Costello; but since she had begun to regard +Lucia as separated from him by duty and necessity, she rejoiced to think +that he had never held any other place in her child's heart than that to +which an old playfellow, teacher, and companion would under any +circumstances have a right. Her own altered conviction as to Christian's +guilt did not affect her feelings in this respect, for she knew that it +was too utterly illogical to have any weight with others; and +anticipating that even Maurice would be unable, were he told the whole +story, to share in it, she felt that as regarded him, guilt or unproved +innocence would be precisely the same thing; and that, however his +generosity might conceal the fact, Lucia would always remain in his +belief the daughter of a murderer. To suffer her child to marry him +under these circumstances was not to be thought of, even if Lucia +herself would consent; so, in spite of the half-frantic letters which +Maurice found time to despatch by every mail, and in which he used over +and over again every argument he could think of to convince her that +whatever her difficulties might be, she had no right to refuse what she +had once tacitly promised, she resolutely gave up, and put away from +her, the hopes she had long entertained, and the plans which had been +the comfort of her heart. + +It was settled, without anything definite being said on the subject, +that they were to remain at the Cottage until the Assizes, or just +before; so that Christian, in any need, might have help at hand. When +his trial was over, their future course would be decided,--or, rather, +Mrs. Costello's would, for it depended on the sentence. If that should +be "Not guilty," she would claim the unhappy prisoner at once, and take +him to some strange place where she could devote herself to caring for +him in that helplessness which renewed all his claims upon her. If it +were "Guilty," she would go immediately to the seat of Government and +never cease her efforts till she obtained his pardon. She felt no fear +whatever of succeeding in this--his wretchedness and imbecility would +be unanswerable arguments--no one would refuse to her the miserable +remnant of such a life. + +Lucia heard, and shared in arranging all these plans. She was still +ignorant that they were not intended to include herself, and Mrs. +Costello shrank from embittering the last months of their companionship +by the anticipations of parting. Thus they continued to live in the +tranquil semblance of their former happiness, while winter settled in +round them, and the time which must inevitably break up the calm drew +nearer and nearer. + +Mrs. Bellairs and her sister came back from their visit. Bella was still +silent and pale--still had the look of a person whom some sudden shock +has benumbed,--but she no longer shut herself up; and as much as their +deep mourning would allow, the household returned to their former +hospitable, cheerful ways. Mrs. Bellairs again came frequently to the +Cottage. She saw now, after her absence, a far greater change than she +had before realized, in both mother and daughter; and thinking that +variety and cheerful society were the best remedies, if not for both, +certainly for Lucia, she did all she could to drag the poor girl out, +and to force her into the company of those she most longed, but did not +dare, to avoid. There was one comfort; wherever Bella was, no allusion +to the murder could be made; but wherever she was not, Lucia constantly +heard such sayings as these:-- + +"Yes, it has been mentioned in the _Times_ even, such a peculiarly +horrid thing, you know, poor man." "Just like a savage. Oh! it's all +very well to talk of Indians being civilized, but I am quite convinced +they never are, really. And then, you see, the real nature breaks out +when they are provoked." + +Some more reasonable person would suggest, "But they say that at Moose +Island Mr. Strafford has done wonders;" and he answered, + +"Ah! 'they say.' It is so easy to _say_ anything. Why, this very man, or +brute, comes from Moose Island!" + +"Does he? But, of course, there must be some bad. Let us ask Miss +Costello. She knows Mr. Strafford." + +And Lucia would have to command her face and her voice, and say, "I only +know by report. I believe Mr. Strafford's people are all more or less +civilized." + +Sometimes she would hear this crime used as an argument in favour of +driving the Indians further back, and depriving them of their best +lands, for the benefit of that white race which had generously left them +here and there a mile or two of their native soil; sometimes as a proof +that to care for or instruct them, was waste of time and money; +sometimes only as a text whereon to hang a dozen silly speeches, which +stung none the less for their silliness; and it was but a poor +compensation for all she thus suffered when some one would speak out +heartily and with knowledge, in defence of her father's people. + +She said not a word to her mother of these small but bitter annoyances; +only found herself longing sometimes for the time when, at whatever +cost, her secret might be known, and she be free. In the meantime, +however, Mrs. Bellairs guessed nothing of the result of her kindness; +for Lucia, feeling how short a time might separate her for ever from +this dear friend, was more affectionate than usual in her manner, and +had sometimes a wistful look in her beautiful eyes, which might mean +sorrow, either past or future, but had no shadow of irritation. + +Mr. Strafford came up to Cacouna twice during Christian's imprisonment. +The first time he found no particular change. A low fever still seemed +to hang about the prisoner, and his passionate longing for the free air +to be his strongest feeling. There was no improvement mentally. His +brain, once cultivated and active, far beyond the standard of his race, +seemed quite dead; it was impossible to make him understand either the +past or future, his crime (if he were guilty), or his probable +punishment. In spite of the feeling against him, there were charitable +men in Cacouna who would gladly have done what they could to befriend +him, but literally nothing could be done. Mr. Strafford left him, +without anything new to tell the anxious women at the Cottage. + +But the second time there was an evident alteration in the physical +condition of the prisoner. He scarcely ever moved from his bed; and when +he was with difficulty persuaded to do so, he tottered like a very old +and feeble man. Even to breathe the air which he still perpetually asked +for, he would hardly walk to the window; and there were such signs of +exhaustion and utter weakness, that it seemed very doubtful whether, +before the time of the Assizes, he would not be beyond the reach of +human justice. Mr. Strafford went back to the Cottage with a new page in +her sorrowful life to tell to Mrs. Costello. To say that she heard with +great grief of the probable nearness of that widowhood which, for years +past, would have been a welcome release, would be to say an absurdity; +but, nevertheless, it is true that a deep and tender feeling of pity, +which was, indeed, akin to love, seemed to sweep over and obliterate all +the bitterness which belonged to her thoughts of her husband. She wished +at once to avow their relationship; and it was only Mr. Strafford's +decided opinion that to do so would be hurtful to Lucia and useless to +Christian, which withheld her. Clearly the one thing which he, unused to +any restraint, needed and longed for, was liberty; and even that, if it +were attainable, he seemed already too weak to enjoy. His ideas and +powers of recollection were growing still weaker with every week of +imprisonment, but nothing could be done--nothing but wait, with dreary +patience, for the time of the trial. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +The time of the Assizes drew near, and Mrs. Costello looked forward to +it with feelings of mixed, but almost wholly painful, anticipation. She +was now in daily expectation of receiving a letter from her cousin, +which should authorize her to send Lucia at once to England, and she had +not yet dared to speak on the subject. She thought, with reluctance, of +sending her child to the neighbourhood of Chester, where her own youth +and unfortunate marriage might still be remembered, or, if almost +forgotten, would be readily called to mind by the singular beauty of the +half-Indian girl; and she doubted how far the only other arrangement +which suggested itself to her, that of placing her daughter at school, +might be practicable. She had, also, to add to her other perplexities, a +lurking conviction that, whenever Lucia did become aware of the plans +that had been made for her, those plans stood no small chance of being +entirely swept away; or, if carried out at all, that they would be +finally shaped and modified according to Lucia's own judgment and +affection for herself, of which two qualities she had for a long time +been having daily stronger proofs. But in whatever way she regarded the +future, it was full of difficulties and darkness; and she had no longer +either strength or courage to face these hopefully. The fainting fits +which had twice alarmed Lucia, and which she spoke of as trifling and +temporary indispositions, she herself knew perfectly well to be only one +of the symptoms of a firmly-rooted and increasing disease. She had taken +pains to satisfy herself of the truth; she knew that she might live for +years; and that, under ordinary circumstances, there was very little +fear of the immediate approach of death; but she knew, also, that every +hour of agitation or excitement hastened its steps; and how could she +hope to avoid either? The very effort to decide whether she ought to +part with her child, or to suffer her to remain and face the impending +revelations, was in itself an excitement in which life wasted fast. + +But in this, as in so many human affairs, forethought was useless; and +the course of events, over which so many weary hours of calculation had +been spent, was already tending in a direction wholly unthought of and +unexpected. The first indication of this was the increasing illness of +Christian. + +When Mr. Strafford returned to Moose Island, after his second stay at +Cacouna, he had begged Elton, the kind-hearted jailer, to send word to +Mrs. Costello if any decided change took place in the prisoner before +his return; and as she was known to be his friend and correspondent, +this attracted no remark, and was readily promised. A little more than a +fortnight before the expected trial, Elton himself came one day to the +Cottage, and asked for Mrs. Costello. She received him with an alarm +difficult to conceal, and, guessing his errand, asked at once if he had +a worse account of his prisoner to send to Mr. Strafford? + +"Well, ma'am," he answered, "I don't know whether to call it a worse +account or not, considering all things; but he is certainly very ill, +poor creature." + +"What is it? Anything new, or only an increase of weakness?" + +"Just that, ma'am. Always a fever, and every day less strength to stand +against it. The doctor says he can't last long in the way he's going +on." + +"And can _nothing_ be done?" + +"Well, you see, he can't take food; and more air than he has we can't +give him. It is hard on those that have spent most of their lives out of +doors to be shut up anywhere, and naturally he feels stifled." + +"Do you say he takes no food?" + +"Next to none. It is not to say that he can't take the regular meals, +but we have tried everything we could think of, and it is all much the +same." + +"I should like to see him again. Can I do so?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am. There need be no difficulty about that; but he knows +nobody." + +Elton got up to leave. + +"I will write to Mr. Strafford," Mrs. Costello said, "and meantime I +will come myself to-morrow, if you can admit me then." + +"Certainly, ma'am, and I am much obliged to you." + +Mrs. Costello sank back into her chair when he was gone, and covered her +face with her hands. Disease and death then would not wait for that +trial, to which she had looked as the inevitable first step towards the +prisoner's release. He was about perhaps to be emancipated in a speedier +way than by man's justice. But if so, would not he be always supposed +guilty? Would not the blot upon her and her child be ineffaceable? +Whether or not, he must not die alone, untended by those who were +nearest to him, and dependent on the charity and kindness of strangers. +She called Lucia, and told her what she had just heard. + +"I shall write to Mr. Strafford," she said, "and if there seems no +special reason for doing otherwise, I will wait for his coming before I +make any change; but if he cannot come just now, or if I should find it +needful for--for your father's sake, Lucia, our secret must be told at +once." + +At that word "your father" a sudden flush had risen to the cheeks of +both mother and child. They had both been learning lately to _think_ of +the father and husband by his rightful titles, but this was perhaps the +first time he had been so spoken of; each felt it as the first step +towards his full recognition. + +Lucia was silent for a moment, and Mrs. Costello asked, "Do you think +that is being too hasty?" + +"Oh! _no_, mamma. I think it should be done at once. But you will let me +go with you?" + +"Not to-morrow, darling; perhaps afterwards." + +"Mamma, I ought to go." + +Mrs. Costello in her turn was silent, thinking whether this new +emergency ought not to hasten the execution of her plans for Lucia. +Finally, she decided that it ought; but it was with some trepidation +that she began the subject. + +"I see plainly enough," she said, with an effort to smile, "that I ought +to go, and that my strongest duty at present will be at the jail, but I +am not so sure about you." + +"But you do not suppose that I shall let you wear yourself out while I +stay at home doing nothing?" + +"I wish you to go away for a time." + +"Me! Away from you?" + +"Would it be so hard?" + +"Impossible. I would not leave you for anything." + +"Not even to obey me, Lucia?" + +"Mamma, _what_ do you mean?" + +"I wish you to go for a little while to England, where you have so often +wished to go." + +"And in the meantime what are you going to do?" + +"At present you see how I shall be occupied. When the trial is over, I +hope to bring your father here and nurse him as long as he requires +nursing." + +"And then?" + +"Then we will be together somewhere; I do not yet know where." + +"And where am I to go in England?" + +"My cousin will take care of you for me. Remember, it is only for a +little while." + +"Have you been plotting against me long, mother?" + +"My child, I have been obliged to think of your future." + +"And you thought that I was a baby still--only an encumbrance, to be +sent away from you when you had other troubles to think of?" + +"My best comforter, rather." + +"Well then, mother, I have my plan, which is better than yours, and more +practicable, too." + +"Mine is perfectly practicable; I have thought well of it." + +"It is impracticable; because I am not going to England, or indeed to +leave you at all." + +"But, Lucia, I have written to my cousin." + +"I am very sorry, mamma, but I cannot help it. Indeed, I do not want to +be disobedient, or to vex you, but you must see that if I _did_ go it +would only make us both wretched, and besides, it would not be _right_." + +Mrs. Costello sighed. + +"How not right?" + +"I think, mother, that when people know who we are--I mean when my +father comes here--there will be a great deal of speculation and gossip +about us all, and people will watch us very closely, and that it would +be better if when you bring him home, everything should be as if he had +never been away from us. Do you know what I mean?" + +"I suppose I do," Mrs. Costello answered slowly. "You mean that when we +take him back, we should not seem to be ashamed of him?" + +Lucia hid her face against her mother's dress. + +"Oh! mamma, is it wrong to talk so? He is my father after all, and it +seems so dreadful; but indeed I shall try to behave like a daughter to +him." + +Yet even as she spoke, an irrepressible shudder crept over her with the +sudden recollection of the only time she had seen the prodigal. + +"My poor child!" and her mother's arm was passed tenderly round her, "it +is just that I wish to spare you." + +Lucia looked up steadily. + +"But ought I to be spared, mother? It seems to me that my duty is just +as plain as yours. Do not ask me to go away." + +"I am half distracted, darling, between trying to think for you and for +him. And perhaps all my thought for him may be useless." + +"At least, think only of him for the present." + +"If he should die before the trial?" + +"If he could only be cleared! Perhaps it would save him yet." + +"Yes. It seems to be imprisonment which is killing him; but nothing less +than a miracle could make any change now, and there are no miracles in +our days." + +"Ah! mamma, has not a miracle been worked already?" + +"How?" + +"Only a little while ago remember how we thought and spoke of him--and +now--" + +"You are right, my child; but the agencies which have worked this +miracle are very earthly ones--pain and sorrow, and false accusation." + +"Mamma, I think this is better than the old life of terror, and perhaps +hatred." + +"Far better, far better. Yes, through dark and painful means a better +end is coming. But it is hard to think that you must live through all +your life under the shadow of a supposed crime. For us who have sinned +life is nearly over, our punishment was just, and it will soon be ended. +It is you, my child, whom I have so tried to shield, who must bear the +heaviest penalty." + +"No, mother, do not think so. When all this is over we shall go away, +you and I, and be very happy together again; and the happiness will be +more equally balanced than it was in the old days when you had so much +care and I none. And then, if ever I am left alone, I shall go and be a +Sister of Charity or one of Miss Nightingale's nurses, and be too busy +and useful to be unhappy." + +Mrs. Costello stooped down and kissed her child's forehead. + +"I thought you might have had a brighter fate than that, darling. +Perhaps I thought more of seeing you a happy woman than a good one; but +if you are never to have the home I wished for you, you will find, at +any rate, that a single woman's life may be full of usefulness and +honour." + +Ah! that brighter fate! Mrs. Costello thought of Maurice, and sighed for +the loss to _two_ lives. Lucia's heart still turned loyally to the one +lover who had claimed it, but both knew that the "brighter fate" was no +longer a possibility now. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Lucia walked with her mother to the gates of the jail, but she could not +obtain permission to go any further. Although the proposal to send her +to England was, in fact, abandoned, there seemed no reason why she +should be brought sooner than was needful into contact with what could +not but be painful; and she was obliged to yield in this matter to her +mother's judgment. + +They parted, therefore, at the gates; and Mrs. Costello was admitted +without delay to the cell where Christian was confined. A cell, properly +speaking, it was not; for they had removed him since her former visit, +and he now occupied a good-sized room on the upper floor, which was +nearly as bare and as glaringly white as the other, but more airy. His +low wooden bedstead was drawn near to the window, which, cold as it was, +stood open, while a small box-stove, heated almost red hot, kept the +temperature of the room tolerably high. On the bed, partly dressed, and +wrapped in a blanket, lay the prisoner. He neither moved nor paid any +attention when his visitor came in, and she had time to see all the +change confinement and illness had made in him. And the change was, +indeed, startling. All the flush of intemperance had left his face, and +at this moment his fever had subsided also, and left him only the +natural dark but clear tint of his Indian blood; his hair had been +smoothly combed, and looked less grey than when it hung tangled and +knotted; his extreme weakness gave him an aspect of repose, which +brought back the ghost of his old self--something of the look of that +Christian who had been, to a girl's fancy, so fit a hero of romance. + +It was but a likeness, truly, shadowy and dim, but it seemed to bridge +over the interval--the long, long weary years since the hero changed +into the tyrant, and to make far easier that task of comforting and +helping which duty, and not love, had imposed. + +She came to his side, and still he did not notice her. His eyes were +fixed on the pale, grey, snowy sky, and he seemed deaf to the slight +sounds of her movements. She sat down and watched him silently. From the +first moment she knew that all, and more than all, Elton had said was +true. She saw death unmistakable, inevitable, and close at hand, and +reproached herself for not having come sooner. But in that strange calm +and stillness, even self-reproach seemed to be curbed and +repressed--even a quickened beating of the heart would have been out of +place. So they remained until fully half an hour had passed, when the +door of the room again opened; this time to admit the doctor. + +He was an elderly man, kind, busy, and quick in his words and motions. +He came in briskly, and looked rather surprised at seeing Mrs. Costello. +She only bowed, however, and drew back as he came towards the bedside. +He was followed into the room by the jailer's wife, who had +compassionately tended the prisoner ever since his illness increased. + +Christian seemed to wake from his stupor, or dream, at the sound of the +doctor's voice. He answered the questions put to him mechanically but +clearly, and with his old purity of accent and expression. The dialogue, +however, even with Mrs. Elton's comments, was but a short one, and as +soon as it was ended, Mrs. Costello came forward and stopped the doctor +on his way from the room. + +"Will you tell me," she said in a low voice, "exactly what you think of +him?" + +He looked at her again with some surprise. + +"I am interested in the question," she went on, regulating her voice +with a painful effort. "I assure you it is not from mere curiosity I +ask." + +"He is very low, very low indeed; but allow me to say, this is not the +place for you." + +"I will not do myself any harm," she answered, with a faint smile; "you +shall not have any occasion to scold me." + +"How long have you been here?" + +"About half an hour. And you may feel my pulse if you like; it is +perfectly steady." + +She held out her wrist; the pulse was, in fact, quite regular, rather +more so than usual, and there was nothing to show that the sick room was +"not the place for her." + +"Now tell me," she said; "he is dying, is not he?" + +"Yes. Best thing that can happen to him, poor wretch." + +"You don't think he will live to be tried?" + +He shook his head. + +"More than doubtful." + +"But it is only a fortnight, and there seems to be no acute disease." + +"He would have a better chance of living if there were. He is completely +worn out--dying of exhaustion. It is a question if he lasts another +week." + +"Tell me, please, exactly what can be done for him." + +"Very little indeed. And Mrs. Elton is a good nurse." + +The same look of inquiry as before was in the doctor's face while he +gave this answer, and Mrs. Costello felt that some explanation was +necessary. + +"I have no doubt she is. But I knew him--knew something of him--many +years ago," she said; "and Mr. Strafford, the clergyman at Moose Island, +you know, confided him to my care." + +She spoke hurriedly, but without faltering, and the doctor was +satisfied. He told her briefly all that could be done for his patient, +and then went away, with a last warning not to stay too long. + +This short conversation had been carried on rapidly and in very low +tones. Mrs. Elton had left the room, and Christian seemed quite +unconscious of the presence of the speakers. When the doctor was gone, +his wife again came to his bedside, and seeing that he had not yet sunk +back quite into his former lethargic state, she laid her hand gently on +his without speaking. + +He did not move, but merely raised his languid eyes to her face. +Something there, however, seemed to fix them, and he lay looking at her +with a steady intent gaze, as if trying to recognise her. + +"Christian," she said very softly, with a trembling voice, "do you +remember me?" + +"I remember," he answered in a half whisper, "not you, but something +like you." + +"I am changed since then," she went on; "we are both changed, but we +shall be together again now." + +He was still watching her, and there seemed to be a clearer +consciousness in his gaze. + +"Are you Mary?" he asked after a moment. + +"I am Mary, your wife," she answered. + +"There was something else," he went on, slowly groping as it were for +broken memories of the past. "There was another." + +"Our child?" she asked, "Do you remember her?" + +"Yes; is she here?" + +"No. Would you like to see her?" + +"No matter. I lost you. Where have you been?" + +"Near here. Forget that; now I shall not leave you again for long." + +"I am tired; I think I shall sleep." + +And the light began to fade out of his eyes, and the same kind of dull +insensibility, not sleep, crept over him again. + +She left him at last in much the same state as she found him; and after +a long talk with Mrs. Elton, who was at first a little inclined to be +jealous of interference, but came round completely after a while, she +left the jail and started for home. + +It was a dreary walk, through the snowy roads and under the +leaden-coloured sky. She had to pass through a part of the town which +lay close to the river, where the principal shops and warehouses stood. +Passing one of the shops, or as they were generally called, "stores," +she remembered some purchases she wanted to make, and went in. While she +was occupied with her business, some loud voices at the further end of +the store attracted her attention, and she was aware of a group of men +sitting upon barrels and boxes, and keeping up a noisy conversation, +mixed with frequent bursts of laughter. + +The store was not one of the best class even for Cacouna, but Mrs. +Costello had gone into it because it had a kind of "specialité," for the +articles she required. It was most frequented by rough backwoodsmen and +farmers, and to that class the noisy party seemed to belong. Some little +time was necessary to find from a back shop one of the things Mrs. +Costello asked for, and while she waited she could not help but hear +what these men were saying. A good many oaths garnished their speeches, +which, deprived of them, were much as follows: + +"You did not go into mourning, anyhow?" + +"Not I. Saved me a deal of trouble, _he_ did." + +"You'll be turned out all the same, yet, I guess." + +"They have not turned me out yet. And if Bellairs tries that trick +again, I'll send my old woman and the baby to Mrs. Morton. That'll fix +it." + +There was a roar of laughter. Then, + +"They are sure to hang him, I suppose?" + +"First hanging ever's been at Cacouna if they do." + +"I guess you'll be going to see him hung, eh, Clarkson?" + +"I reckon so; but it's time I was off." + +One of the speakers, a thickset, heavy-browed man, came down the store, +stared rudely at Mrs. Costello as he passed, and going out, got into a +waggon that stood outside, and drove away. + +At the same moment the shopman came back and wondered at his customer's +trembling hand as he showed her what he had brought. She scarcely +understood what he said. She had turned cold as ice, and was saying over +and over to herself, "The murderer, the murderer." She hurried to finish +her business and get out into the open air, for in the store she felt +stifled. She had never before seen, to her knowledge, this Clarkson, +whom she accused in her heart; and now his evil countenance, his harsh +voice and brutal laugh had thrown her into a sudden terror and tumult. +As she walked quickly along, she remembered a story she had heard of +him, when and how she scarcely knew, but the story itself came back to +her mind with singular distinctness. + +A poor boy, an orphan, had been engaged by Clarkson as a servant. Much +of the hard rough work about the kind of bush farm established by the +squatter, fell to his share; he was not ill fed, for Mrs. Clarkson saw +to that, but his promised wages never were paid. The lad complained to +his few acquaintance that nearly the whole sum due to him for two years' +service was still in his master's hands, and though he dared not let +Clarkson know that he had complained, he took courage, by their advice, +to threaten him with the law. One day soon after this, Clarkson and his +servant were both engaged loading a kind of raft, or flat boat, with +various produce for market. A dispute arose between them, the boy fell +or was pushed overboard, and though the creek was quite shallow, and he +was known to be able to swim, he was never seen from that time. + +This was the story which had been whispered about until Mrs. Costello +heard it, and which now returned to her mind with horrible force. A +murderer, a double, a treble murderer--(for was not Christian dying from +the consequences of _his_ guilt?); she felt at that moment no +resignation, but a fierce desire to push aside all the cruel, complete, +_false_ evidence, and force justice to recognize the true criminal. + +"Coward that I am!" she cried in her heart. "But I will at least do what +I can. To-morrow I will let the truth about myself be known, and try +whether that cannot be made to help me to the other truth. To-morrow, +to-morrow!" + +She reached home exhausted, yet sustained by a new energy, and told +Lucia her story and her determination. To her, young and impatient of +the constant repression and concealment, this resolve was a welcome +relief; and they talked of it, and of the future together until they +half persuaded themselves that to restore to Christian his wife and +daughter would be but the beginning of a change which should restore him +both life and liberty. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The arrival of letters at the Cottage was somewhat irregular and +uncertain. Mails from England and the States reached Cacouna in the +evening, and if a messenger was sent to the post-office the letters +could be had about an hour afterwards. Since Maurice had been in +England, the English mails were eagerly looked for, and Mr. Leigh never +failed to send at the very first moment when it was possible there might +be news of him. Lately Maurice's correspondence had been nearly equally +divided between his father and Mrs. Costello; and Mr. Leigh had wondered +not a little at the fretted impatient humour which showed itself plainly +at times in his share of the letters written in that silent and shadowy +sickroom at Hunsdon. But Maurice said nothing to him of the real cause +of his discontent--very little of his plan of returning to Cacouna; and +it was Mrs. Costello who received the notes which acted as safety valves +to his almost irrepressible disturbance of mind. He continued to send +her, once a week, a sheet full of persuasions and arguments which the +moment they were written seemed unanswerable, and the moment they were +despatched appeared puerile and worthless. Still they came, with no +other effect than that of making the recipient more and more unhappy, as +she perceived how her own mistake had helped to increase Maurice's +hopes, and to darken his life by their destruction. + +One of these letters arrived on the very evening of Mrs. Costello's +visit to the jail. It was shorter and more hurried than usual, and spoke +of Mr. Beresford being worse--so much worse that his granddaughter had +been sent for hastily, and, as every one supposed, for the last time; +but it was just as peremptory as any former one, in declaring that +nothing could or should prevent the writer from seeking for, and finding +Lucia wherever she might be, the moment he was free to leave England. + +Mrs. Costello read this note with some uneasiness. She saw that on the +question which of two declining lives should waste fastest, much of the +future now depended. If death came first to the rich and well-born +Englishman, in his stately house, Maurice would be set at liberty, and +by his presence at Cacouna would add to her difficulties; if, to the +miserable prisoner who had been for so many years her terror and +disgrace, and was now thrown upon her care and pity, she should yet be +able to fly with Lucia and hide herself, not now indeed from an enemy, +but from too faithful a friend. + +In the meantime, however, since she had decided to make her marriage +known to all the little world of Cacouna, she began to feel that the +Leighs, both father and son, had a right to have the truth simply and +immediately from herself. She said nothing to Lucia that evening on this +subject, but after going to her room for the night, she sat down and +wrote a very brief but clear explanation of her secret, for Maurice; +adding only a few words of affectionate farewell, and an intimation that +it was better for all direct communication between them to cease with +this letter. + +Next morning at breakfast she told Lucia what she had done, saying +simply that she preferred writing to Maurice, to leaving him to find out +the truth by more indirect means; and added that she intended going at +once to Mr. Leigh's and making him her first confidant in Cacouna. Lucia +could only assent. _Somebody_ must be the first to hear the story, and +who so fit as their old and dear friend? + +"If Maurice were but here!" she said, with a sigh, "he would be such a +comfort, I know, for nothing would make any change in him." + +Mrs. Costello echoed the sigh, but not the wish. + +"If he will but stay away!" she thought, and said nothing. + +She put on her bonnet as soon as breakfast was over, and walked slowly +up the lane to the farmhouse. Lucia watched her anxiously, and many +times during the next two hours went to the windows to see if she were +returning, but it was after twelve before she came, and then she looked +pale and exhausted from the morning's excitement. + +She lay down, however, at Lucia's entreaty, and by-and-by began to tell +her what had passed. + +In the first place Mr. Leigh had been utterly astonished. Through all +the years of their acquaintance the secret had been so well kept that +he had never had the smallest suspicion of it. Like all the rest of her +neighbours he had supposed Mrs. Costello a widow, whose married life had +been too unhappy for her to care to speak of it. The idea that this dead +husband was a Spaniard had arisen in the first place from Lucia's dark +complexion and black hair and eyes, as well as from the name her mother +had assumed; it had been, in fact, simply a fancy of the Cacouna people, +and no part of Mrs. Costello's original plan of concealment. It had +come, however, to be as firmly believed as if it had been ever so +strongly asserted, and had no doubt helped to save much questioning and +many remarks. + +All these ideas, firmly rooted in Mr. Leigh's mind, had taken some +little time to weed out; but when he heard and understood the truth, it +never occurred to him to question for a moment the wisdom or propriety +of her flight from her husband or of the means she had taken to remain +safe from him. He thought the part of a friend was to sympathize and +help, not to criticize, and after a few minutes' consideration as to how +help could best be offered, he asked whether she intended that very day +to claim her rightful post as Christian's nurse. + +"I did intend to do so," she answered, "but for two or three reasons I +think I had perhaps better wait until to-morrow. Mr. Strafford may +possibly be here then." + +"You will be glad to have him with you," Mr. Leigh answered, "but it +seems to me that an old neighbour who has seen you every day for years, +might not be out of place there too. Will you let me go with you to the +jail?" + +"Dear Mr. Leigh! you cannot. You have not been out of the house for +weeks." + +"All laziness. Though indeed I could not pretend to walk so far. But we +can have Lane's covered sleigh, and go without any trouble." + +Mrs. Costello still protested; but in her heart she was perfectly well +aware that Mr. Leigh's presence would be a support to her in the first +painful moments when she must acknowledge herself the wife of a supposed +murderer--and more than that, of an Indian, who had become in the +imagination of Cacouna, the type and ideal of a savage criminal. So, +finally, it was arranged that she should be accompanied to the prison on +the following day by her two faithful friends (supposing Mr. Strafford +to have then arrived), and that in the meantime she should merely pay +her husband a visit without betraying any deeper interest in him than +she had shown already. + +Mr. Leigh asked whether he should tell Maurice what he had himself just +heard, and in reply Mrs. Costello gave him the note she had written, and +asked him to enclose it for her. + +"I thought it was better and kinder to write to him myself," she said. +"It will be a shock to Maurice to know the real position of his old +playfellow." + +Mr. Leigh looked at her doubtfully. + +"It will be a surprise, no doubt," he said, "as it was to me, and he +will be heartily sorry not to be here now to show you both how little +change such a discovery makes. But do you know, Mrs. Costello, it has +struck me lately that there was something wrong either with you and +Maurice, or with Lucia and Maurice?" + +"There is nothing wrong with either, I assure you. You know yourself," +she answered with a smile, "that Maurice never forgets to send us a note +by every mail." + +"That is true; but it does not altogether convince me; Maurice is +worried and unhappy about something, and yet I cannot make out that +there is anything in England to trouble him." + +"On the contrary," Mrs. Costello said, as she rose, "except for Mr. +Beresford's illness I think he has everything he can reasonably wish +for--and more." + +She held out her hand to say good-bye, feeling a strong desire to get +away, and escape from a conversation which was becoming embarrassing. +Mr. Leigh took it and for one second held it, as if he wished to say +something more, but the feeling that he had really no ground but his own +surmises for judging of Maurice's relations with either Lucia or her +mother, checked him. + +Mrs. Costello hurried home. She knew as well as if he had said so, that +her old friend guessed his son's attachment and was ready to sanction +it; she could easily understand the generous impulse which would have +urged him to offer to her and her child all the support and comfort +which an engagement between the two young people could be made to +afford; but she would not even trust herself to consider for a moment +the possibility of accepting a consolation which would cost the giver so +dear. Maurice, she felt, ought to marry an English-woman, his mother's +equal; and no doubt if he and Lucia could be kept completely apart for +two or three years, he would do so without reluctance; only nothing must +be said about the matter either by Mr. Leigh or to Lucia. As for her +daughter, the very circumstance which had formerly seemed most +unfavourable to her wishes was now her great comfort; she rejoiced in +the certainty that Lucia had never suspected the true nature or degree +of Maurice's regard. It was in this respect not to be much regretted +that Lucia still thought faithfully of Percy--not at all as of one who +might yet have any renewed connection with her life, but as of one dead. +The poor child, in spite of her premature womanliness, was full of +romantic fancies; while Percy was near her she had made him a hero; now +since his disappearance, she had found it natural enough to build him a +temple and put in it the statue of a god. And it was better that she +should mourn over a dead love, than that she should a second time be +tormented by useless hopes and fears. + +That afternoon Mrs. Costello and Lucia went together into Cacouna, +taking with them some small comforts for the invalid, but Lucia was not +yet permitted to see him. She parted from her mother at the prison +door, and went to pay a visit to Mrs. Bellairs and Bella, the last time +she was ever likely to see them on the old frank and intimate footing. +Even now, indeed, the intimacy had lost much of its charm. She loved +them both more than ever, but the miserable consciousness of imposture +weighed heavily upon her, and seemed to herself to colour every word she +uttered. She did not stay long; and making a circuit in order to pass +the jail again, in hopes of meeting her mother, she walked sadly and +thoughtfully through the winter twilight towards home. In passing +through the town she noticed an unusual stir of people; groups of men +stood in the streets or round the shop doors talking together, but it +was a time of some political excitement, and the inhabitants of Cacouna +were keen politicians, so that there might be no particular cause for +that. + +Mr. Strafford was more than half expected at the Cottage that evening. +The boat might be in by five, and it was nearly that time when Lucia +reached home, so she took off her walking-things, and applied herself at +once to making the house look bright and comfortable to welcome him, +all the while listening with some anxiety for the sound of her mother's +return. But Mrs. Costello did not come, and Lucia began to think that +she must have gone to the wharf to meet Mr. Strafford, and that they +would arrive together. She made Margery bring in the tea-things, and had +spent no small trouble in coaxing the fire into its very brightest and +warmest humour, the chairs into the cosiest places, and the curtains to +hang so that there should not be the slightest suspicion of a draught, +when at last the welcome sound of the gate opening was heard, and she +ran to the door; there indeed stood Mr. Strafford, but alone. + +Lucia forgot her welcome, and greeted him with an exclamation of +surprise and disappointment; then suddenly recollecting herself, she +took him into the bright sitting-room and explained why she was +astonished to see him alone. + +"I came straight from the wharf," he said, "and have seen nothing of +Mrs. Costello, but I will walk back along the road and meet her." + +This, however, Lucia would not hear of. + +"Margery shall go a little way," she said; "mamma cannot be long now." + +So Margery went, while Mr. Strafford questioned Lucia as to all she +knew of Christian's condition. She told him, with little pauses of +listening between her sentences, for she was growing every moment more +uncontrollably anxious. At length both started up, for the tinkle of +sleigh bells was heard coming up the lane. Again Lucia flew to the door, +and opened it just as the sleigh stopped. + +"Mamma!" she cried, "are you there?" and to her inexpressible relief she +was answered by Mrs. Costello's voice. + +"But why are you so late?" was the next question. + +"I will tell you all presently. Pay the man, dear, and let him go. Or +stay, tell him to come for me at ten o'clock to-morrow morning." + +Mrs. Costello was sitting by the fire when Lucia came back from her +errand. She looked excessively pale and tired, but in her face and in +that of Mr. Strafford as he stood opposite to her there was a light and +flicker of strong excitement. Both turned to Lucia, and Mrs. Costello +held out her hand. + +Lucia came forward, and seeing something she could not understand, knelt +down by her mother's knee and said, "What is it?" + +"Good news, darling, good news at last!" Mrs. Costello tried to speak +calmly, but her voice shook with this unaccustomed agitation of joy. "He +is innocent!" she cried, and covered her face with her hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +It was long before the one single fact of Christian's innocence--proved, +unquestionable innocence--had become sufficiently real and familiar for +the mother and daughter to hear or to tell how the truth had come to +light, and the justice of Heaven been swifter and surer than that of +man. But at length all that Mrs. Costello knew was told; and in the deep +joy and thankfulness with which they saw that horrible stain of murder +wiped out, they were ready to forget even more completely than before, +all the disgrace which still clung to the miserable prisoner, and to +welcome him on his release with no forced kindness. + +"On his release? Ought he not to be with them now?" + +Lucia asked the question. + +"He does not yet even know all," Mrs. Costello answered. "He is so +excessively weak that they dared not tell him till to-morrow." + +"To-morrow, then, he will be here?" + +"No, that is impossible. There is much to be done first; but very soon I +hope." + +Yet both doubted in their hearts whether the shadow--ever deepening--of +approaching death could yet be so checked as to suffer the prisoner to +breathe the free air for which he pined. + +Meanwhile, the story was being told by every fireside in Cacouna with +more of wonder and of comment than by that one where it had the deepest +interest. And it was a tale that would be remembered and repeated for +years, though no living man could tell it all. + +That morning Clarkson had been for some hours at Cacouna. He had various +places to go to, and both sales and purchases to make, but he found +time, as usual, to visit more than one place where whisky was sold; and +when at last he drove out of the town, he had but just enough power of +self-control to keep himself from swaying about visibly as he sat in his +sleigh. He was in boisterous spirits, and greeted every acquaintance he +met with some rough jest--pointless but noisy--singing snatches of +songs, and flourishing his whip with an air of tipsy bravado. At a small +tavern near the sawmill he dismounted for the last time. + +It was a little after noon, and several of the men employed about the +mill were lounging round the stove in the tavern when Clarkson went in. +He found some of his own particular associates among the group, and, +being in a generous humour, he pulled out a dirty dollar-note and +ordered glasses round. These were followed by others; and when, after +another half-hour, he got into his sleigh again, he was quite beyond the +power of guiding his horse, or even of seeing where he was going. He was +more noisy than ever; and as he started off, some of his more sober +companions shouted warnings after him, and stood watching him as he +went, with a pretty strong feeling that he was not likely to reach home +safely. + +In fact, he had proceeded but a little way across the open plain where +Dr. Morton's body had been found when he took a wrong direction, and, +instead of keeping a tolerably straight line towards his own home, he +turned to the left, following a track which led to the water's edge, +and ran beside it, over broken and boggy ground, until after making a +semicircle it rejoined the principal road on the further side of the +plain. No sober man would have chosen this track, for it was heavy for +the horse, and was carried over several rough bridges across the large +drains which had lately been cut to carry off the water from the swamp. +The deep snow which had fallen, with little previous frost, lay soft and +thick over the whole ground; it covered the holes in the bridges, and so +choked up the drains that in many places they were completely concealed, +and what appeared to be a smooth level surface of ground might really be +a dangerous pitfall. Here, however, Clarkson chose to go. He flogged his +horse unmercifully, and the sleigh flew over the ground, scattering the +snow and striking every moment against some roughness of the road which +it concealed. They passed one of the drains safely, though the round +logs of which the bridge was formed shook and rattled under them; but +between that and the next, the tipsy driver turned quite out of the +track, and drove on at the same headlong pace towards the open trench. +At the very brink the horse stopped; he tried to turn aside, but a +tremendous lash of the whip urged him on; he leaped forward and just +cleared the drain, but the weight of the sleigh dragged him backwards, +and the whole mass crashed through the snow and the thin ice under it +into the bottom of the cutting. + +Some of the men who had watched Clarkson drive off from the tavern had +not yet returned to their work, and the place where the accident +happened was not so far off but that something of it could be seen. Two +or three started off, and soon arrived at the spot where the sleigh had +disappeared. + +The drain, though deep, was not very wide, and if, even at the very +moment of the fall, Clarkson had been capable of exerting himself, he +might have escaped; as it was, he lay among the broken fragments of his +sleigh and shouted out imprecations upon his horse, which had been +dragged down on the top of him. But when the poor animal was freed from +the harness, and with as much care as possible removed from the body of +its master, a much harder task remained. Clarkson was frightfully +hurt--how, they could hardly tell, but it seemed as if his head and arms +were all that had escaped. The rest of his body appeared to be dead; he +had not the smallest power to move, and yet there was no outward wound, +and his voice was as strong as ever. They raised him with the greatest +gentleness and care, and bringing up the bottom of the broken sleigh, +laid his helpless limbs on it compassionately, and carried him back to +the tavern, paying no heed to the flood of curses which he constantly +poured out. + +When they reached the tavern, they found the doctor already there, and, +going out of the house, they waited till he should have made his +examination and be able to tell them its result. After some time he +came, closing the door behind him and looking very grave. + +"What's wrong with him, sir?" one of the men asked. + +"Everything. He cannot live many hours." + +There was a minute's silence, and then somebody said, + +"Should not his missus be fetched?" + +"Yes, poor woman, the sooner the better. Who will go?" + +"I will, sir," and one of the oldest of the group started off +immediately to the mill to get the necessary permission from his master. + +"Now," said the doctor, "there's another thing. Who will take my horse +and go into Cacouna and fetch Mr. Bayne out here? I do not mean to leave +Clarkson myself at present." + +Another volunteer was found, and the doctor, having scribbled a pencil +note to Mr. Bayne, sent him off with it and went back into the house. +There was already a change in his patient. An indefinable look had come +over the hard, sunburnt face, and the voice was weaker. Why the doctor +had sent for Mr. Bayne, whom for the moment he regarded not as a +clergyman, but as a magistrate, he himself best knew. Clarkson had no +idea of his having done so; nor had he yet heard plainly that his own +fate was so certain or so near. But it was no part of the doctor's plan +to leave him in ignorance. He went to the side of the settee where the +dying man lay, and sitting down said, + +"I have sent for your wife." + +Clarkson looked at him suspiciously. + +"What's that for?" he asked. "Can't they take me home? I should get well +a deal sooner there than in this place." + +"You cannot be moved. In fact, Clarkson, there is no chance of your +getting well anywhere." + +Clarkson turned his head sharply. + +"Say out what you mean," he cried with an oath. + +"I intend to do so. You are not likely to live till night." + +The wretched man tried to raise himself, but his will had no power over +his body. He turned his head round with a groan, and hid his face +against the wall. + +There were other people in the house; but since Clarkson had been +brought in, they kept as much as possible at the further end, and could +not hear what passed unless it was intended that they should. Presently +Clarkson again looked round, and there was a new expression of terror +and anxiety in his eyes. + +"Are you _sure_?" he asked. "Quite certain I can't get well?" + +"Quite certain. There is not the shadow of a chance." + +"Look here, then; I have something to say." + +"It had better be said soon." + +"I say, Doctor, is that Indian fellow really going to die?" + +"What Indian fellow?" + +"The one in jail--the one that they say killed Doctor Morton." + +"He is very ill. Why do you say that they _say_ he killed Doctor +Morton?" + +"Because he did not do it, and I know who did." + +"Is that what you have to tell?" + +"I'd have let him hang, mind; I'd never have told a word. But it's to be +me after all!" He stopped and groaned again heavily. + +"Look here, Doctor," he went on, "you'll just remember this, will you? +My missus knows nothing about it--not a word; and don't let them go and +bother her about it afterwards. Will you promise?" + +"The best way to keep her from being troubled is to tell the truth +yourself." + +"Well, I'll do it then, for her. She's a good one." + +He was silent again for a minute, resolute not to let even the thoughts +of his good wife, who loved him through all his faults, change his hard +manner to any unusual softness. + +In the pause the sound of sleigh bells outside was heard, and through +the window the doctor caught sight of his own little sleigh, with Mr. +Bayne in it, coming up to the door of the house. + +"Now, Clarkson," he said, "you see that the best thing for everybody +is, that you should tell the exact truth about that murder. I am not +going to talk to you about the benefit it may be to yourself to make +what amends you can for the wrong you have done, but I can tell you that +Christian has friends who would be glad to see him cleared; and if you +will tell all the truth now, late as it is, I think I may promise that +they will look after your wife and children." + +The doctor spoke fast, having made up his mind to deliver this little +speech before they were interrupted. Then he went to the door and opened +it, just in time to admit Mr. Bayne. + +When they came together to Clarkson's side, he was lying quite quiet, +considering. His paralysed condition and fast increasing weakness seemed +to keep down all excitement. He was perfectly conscious, but it was a +sort of mechanical consciousness with which emotion of any kind had very +little to do. Mr. Bayne, who did not yet know why he had been sent for, +but thought only of the dying man's claim upon him as a clergyman, spoke +a few friendly words and sat down near the settee. + +Clarkson motioned the doctor also to sit down. + +"Must I tell _him_?" he said in a low voice. + +"You had better. He is a magistrate, you know." + +"Yes; all right. Tell him what it is about; will you?" + +"Clarkson wants to tell you the exact truth about the murder which took +place here in autumn," the Doctor said. "There is not much time to +lose." + +"That's it." And Clarkson began at once. "To begin with, it was not the +Indian at all. He never saw Doctor Morton that I know of, and I am +certain he never saw him alive that day. He happened to be lying asleep +under the bushes, that's all he had to do with it." + +"But who did it then?" Mr. Bayne asked. + +"Who should do it? He wanted to turn me out of my farm that I had +cleared myself; one day he pretty nearly knocked me down, and every day +he abused me as if I was a dog. _I_ killed him." + +He stopped. All the exultation of his triumph was not quite conquered +yet. He had killed his enemy. + +"That day," he went on, "I was going down to the mill; I had a big stick +in my hand that I had but just cut, and I thought what a good one it +would be to knock a man down with. I was going along, in and out among +the bushes, when I caught sight of him coming riding slowly in front. I +knew he was most likely going to the creek, for it seemed as if he could +not keep from meddling with me continually, and I did not want to talk +to him, so I slipped into a big bush to wait till he was gone by. I +declare I had no thought of harming him, but he always put me in a rage, +so I did not mean to speak to him at all. Well, he came close up, and +all of a sudden I thought I should like to pay him out for hitting me +with his whip, and I just lifted up my stick and knocked him over. It +was a sharper blow than I meant it to be, for the blood ran down as he +fell. He lay on the grass, and I was going to walk back home when I saw +that my stick was all over blood, and there was some on my hands too. +That made me mad with him, because I thought I might be found out by it. +I went a little way further to hide the stick, and I saw a man lying +down. Then I thought _he_ might have seen me and I should have to quiet +him too, but he was fast asleep, and did not move a finger; that made me +think of putting it on him. He had a big knife stuck in his belt, but it +had half fallen out, and I took it that I might put some of the blood on +it. When I came back with it to the place, I found that Doctor Morton +had moved. I had not meant at first to kill him, but when I saw that he +was alive I was vexed, and thought if I left him so he would be sure to +know who had hit him, so I finished him. I wanted to make people believe +that it was the Indian who had done it, and they did. That is all I've +got to tell." + +Nearly the whole story had been told in a sullen, monotonous tone, and +when it was finished Clarkson shut his eyes and turned a little away +from his auditors, as if to show that he did not mean to be questioned. +They did indeed try to say something to him of his crime, but he would +not answer, and presently the doctor, after leaning over him for a +moment, motioned Mr. Bayne to be silent. Death was quickly approaching, +and it was useless to trouble the dying man further. After a little +while the man who had gone for Mrs. Clarkson arrived, with the poor +woman half stunned by the shock of his news, and the two gentlemen left +husband and wife together. + +Later Mr. Bayne came back to his post in the more natural and congenial +character of a Christian priest; but Clarkson was not a man to whom a +deathbed repentance could be possible. The one human sentiment of his +nature--a half-instinctive love of wife and children--was the only one +that seemed to influence him at the last, and from the moment of his +confession he spoke little except of them. Gradually his consciousness +began to fail, and he spoke no more. Two hours later the doctor and Mr. +Bayne quitted the house together. All was over. Clarkson's turbulent +life had ended quietly, and all that was left of him was the body, over +which a faithful woman wept. + +When Mr. Bayne returned to Cacouna he went straight to Mr. Bellairs and +told him the truth; not many minutes after, Mr. Bellairs hurried to the +jail. He felt anxious that he himself, the nearest connection of Dr. +Morton, should be the first to make what reparation was possible to the +innocent man who had already suffered so much. He did not know how grave +Christian's illness had become, and he thought the hope of speedy +liberation would be the best possible medicine to him. But when he saw +Elton and asked for admission to the prisoner, he heard with dismay that +the discovery had come too late, and that his plan was impracticable. +Elton did not hesitate in the least about letting him enter the room. + +"Half the town might go in and out," he said, "and he would take no +notice of them, but I do not know about telling him of a sudden. +Perhaps, sir, you'd ask Mrs. Costello?" + +"Mrs. Costello! Why? Is she here?" + +"Yes, sir; and she seems to be to know more about him than even my wife +who nursed him what she could, ever since he's been ill." + +"It might be as well to consult her, then; could you ask her to speak to +me?" + +"Well, sir, if you like to go up into the room; it's a large one, and +you may talk what you please at the further side; he'll never hear." + +Accordingly they went up. Mrs. Costello was sitting beside her husband, +and had been talking to him. He had been for a short time quite aroused +to interest in what she said, but very little fatigued him, and they +were both silent when the door softly opened to admit the unexpected +visitor. Mrs. Costello rose with a strange spasm at her heart. She +foresaw news, but could not guess what, and she trembled as Mr. Bellairs +shook hands with her. + +"Do you think," he said at once, "that it would be safe to tell him good +news?" + +She looked at him eagerly, and he in turn was startled by the +passionate interest that flashed into her face. + +"What news?" She asked in a quick vehement whisper. + +"That he is proved innocent; that the murderer has confessed." + +"Is it true?" + +"It is perfectly true. I have just left Mr. Bayne, who heard the +confession." + +"Thank God!" + +She felt her limbs giving way, and caught at the corner of the table for +support, but would have fallen if Mr. Bellairs had not prevented it, and +laid her on a sofa which had been lately brought into the room. + +He hurried to the door, and just outside it met Mrs. Elton, who came to +Mrs. Costello's assistance. It was very long, however, before the +faintness could be overcome, and when that was at last accomplished, +Christian had fallen asleep; they waited then for his waking, and +meanwhile Mrs. Costello heard from Mr. Bellairs the outline of what had +happened. + +At last Christian awoke, and Mrs. Costello begged herself to tell him as +much of the truth as it might be safe for him to hear, but she found it +extremely difficult to make him understand. If she could have said to +him, "You are free, and I am going to take you away from here," it would +have been easy; as it was, she even doubted whether he at last +understood that the accusation which had caused his imprisonment was +removed. But to herself the joy was infinite. The last few weeks had +taught her to look at things in a new aspect, and the removal of the +last horrible burden which had been laid upon her made all the rest seem +light. + +Mr. Bellairs, much wondering at her agitation, wished to accompany her +home, but she longed to be alone, and sending for a sleigh, she left the +jail, and reached home at last with her happy tidings. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Mrs. Costello leaned back in her chair, and Mr. Strafford watched her +from under the shadow of his hand. Since the winter set in she had taken +to wear a soft white shawl, and her caps were of a closer, simpler make +than they used to be--perhaps these changes made her look older. It was +impossible, too, that she should have passed through the trouble of the +last few months without showing its effects to some degree, and yet it +seemed to her old friend that there was more alteration than he could +see occasion for. Her face had a weary, worn-out look, and the hand that +lay listlessly on the arm of her chair was terribly thin. Those fainting +fits, too, of which Lucia had told him, and the one which she had had +that day, were alarming. He knew the steady self-command which she had +been used to exert in the miseries of her married life, and judged that +her long endurance must have weakened her physical powers no little +before she was so far conquered by emotion. He consoled himself, +however, with the idea that her sufferings must be now nearly at an end, +and that she was so young still that she could only need rest and +happiness to recover. He said this to himself, and yet meantime he +watched her uneasily, and did not feel at all so sure of her recovery as +he tried to persuade himself he did. + +There had been a long silence; for, after Mrs. Costello had told her +story, there was enough to occupy the thoughts of all, and after a while +each feared to break upon the other's reverie. And as it happened, the +meditations of the two elder people had turned in almost the same +direction, though they were guided by a different knowledge of +circumstances. Mrs. Costello knew that to be true which Mr. Strafford +only vaguely feared; she was thoroughly aware of the precarious hold she +had on life, and how each fresh shock, whether of joy or sorrow, +hastened the end. Her one anxiety was for Lucia, and the safe disposal +of her future. She told herself often that her cares were exaggerated, +but they would stay with her nevertheless, and rather seemed to grow in +intensity with every change that occurred. But to-night, certainly, a +gleam of the hope which she had of late, so carefully shut out, again +crossed her mind. How great a change had come since morning, since last +night, when she wrote that final decisive letter to Maurice! It was +already on its way to England, she knew, for it chanced to be the very +time for the mail starting; and there would be an interval of a week +between its arrival and that of any later intelligence. For a week +Maurice would believe Lucia's father to be a murderer, and if _then_, in +spite of all, he remained faithful to his old love, would he not have an +unanswerable right to claim her--would there be any excuse for denying +his claim since her father was proved to be innocent? The belief that he +would be faithful was, after all, strong in Mrs. Costello's mind; she +who had known Maurice all his life knew perfectly that no +considerations, which had himself in any way for their object, would +have the smallest weight with him against his love, or even against what +he chose to consider his honour. + +Her face unconsciously brightened while she thought over all these +things, and suffered herself again to dwell on her old favourite idea +without being in the least doubtful as to Lucia's final consent. Yet +while she thus laid the foundation for new castles in the air, Lucia +herself was busy with thoughts and recollections not too favourable to +her mother's plans. + +Percy, not Maurice, filled _her_ mind. She went back, in her fancies, to +the night when he had told her she must go with him to England, and she +had been so happy and so ignorant of all that was to separate them. Then +she thought of the next day, and how she had sent him away, and told him +that it would disgrace him to marry her. Somehow the disgrace which had +weighed so heavily on her then seemed marvellously light now, since she +had known one so much deeper; and in the blessed sense of freedom which +came to her through Clarkson's confession, she was ready to think that +all else was of small consequence. Did not girls marry every day whose +fathers were all that her father had been? Ah, not _all_; there was +always that Indian blood, which, though it might be the blood of kings +and heroes, put its possessor on a level with the lowest of Europeans, +or rather put him apart as something little higher than a brute. She +knew this; but to-night she would not think of it. She would only see +what she liked; and for the first time began to weave impossible fabrics +of hope and happiness. Where was he, her one lover, for she thought of +no other? She had no fear of a rival with him, not even of that Lady +Adeliza, of whom she had heard, and whom she had once feared. Now she +knew that he really had loved _her_, and feared nothing; for even +supposing that he would in time forget her, love had not had time to +change yet. And need it change at all? She and her mother were going +by-and-by to Europe, and there they might meet. Who could tell? + +But all these things which have taken so long to say took but a few +minutes to think; and of the three who sat together, neither would have +guessed how long a train of ideas passed through the brains of the +others in the interval of their talk. Mrs. Costello was the first to +rouse herself. + +"You do not yet know," she said to Mr. Strafford, "what my plans for +to-morrow are. I meant to ask you to go with me to the jail, and Mr. +Leigh has kindly offered to join us." + +"You have quite decided, then, to let everybody know?" + +"I _had_ quite decided; and now, even if I still wished to keep the +secret, it is too late." + +"Why?" + +"I have already told Mr. Leigh and his son; and besides that, Mr. +Bellairs and Mrs. Elton must both have wondered why I should be more +excited by what we heard to-day than anybody else." + +"That is true; but, from what you have told me, I had begun to doubt +whether you need acknowledge your relationship. It seems by no means +certain now that to do so would be of much benefit to Christian." + +"It would give me the right to be with him constantly. We have made up +our minds, both Lucia and I, as to what we are to do. Don't, please, try +to alter our plans." + +"I hesitate," he answered, "only because you have already suffered so +much, and I fear the excitement for you." + +"All the excitement possible on that subject is over. You will see that +I shall take what has to come yet quietly enough. And I am certain that +you will not tell me that a wife is excusable if she neglects a dying +husband." + +"Assuredly not. You will be glad to have Mr. Leigh with you?" + +"For some things, yes. Yesterday I thought that there was no one whose +presence could have been such a comfort to me; for, except himself, our +greatest friends here are, as you know, the nearest connections of Dr. +Morton; so that till this confession, which has done so much for us, I +could not have asked for sympathy or help from them." + +"No; but now they would give it readily enough if they knew. What do you +think of going first to Mrs. Bellairs, or asking her to come to you? It +seems to me that, if that were not the most comfortable thing for you, +it would be for Lucia." + +Lucia looked eagerly at her mother. + +"Yes, mamma," she said; "let me go into Cacouna in the morning, and ask +her to come and see you. Do tell her first, and let her tell Bella." + +Mrs. Costello understood how her child caught at the idea of being +relieved from the sense of deceit which had lately weighed upon her +whenever she was in the company of her two friends. The idea, too, of +telling her secret to the kindly ear of a woman rather than to men, was +an improvement on her own purpose. She assented, therefore, thankfully. + +"Only," she said, "there is no need for you to go. I will write a note +to Mrs. Bellairs, and I think she will come to us." + +But, as it happened, the note, although written, was not sent. On the +following morning, just as breakfast was over at the Cottage, Mrs. +Bellairs' pony and sleigh came to the door, and, after a hasty inquiry +for Mrs. Costello, Mrs. Bellairs herself came in. + +"William told me," she said, "that he had seen you yesterday, and that +you were not well; so I thought the best thing I could do was to come +myself, and see how you were to-day." + +There were a few minutes of talk, like, and yet unlike, what might have +taken place between the same party at any other time--unlike, for each +was talking of one thing, and thinking of another; even Mrs. Bellairs, +who had, of course, heard from her husband the history of her friend's +extraordinary and unaccountable agitation at the jail, and was full of +wonder and curiosity in consequence. + +After a little while Mr. Strafford left the room. Lucia was watching for +an opportunity to follow him, when her mother signed to her to remain, +and at once began to speak of what had happened yesterday. + +"That unhappy man's confession," she said, "must have been a relief to +you all, I should think; but you cannot guess what it was to us." + +"It was a relief," Mrs. Bellairs answered, "for it will save so much +horrible publicity, and the going over again of all that dreadful story; +but it is shocking to think of that poor Indian, shut up in prison so +long when he was innocent. But William will not rest till he is at +liberty." + +"I fear he will never be that. He is dying." + +"Oh! I hope not. William told me he was very ill; but when we get him +once free, he must be taken good care of, and surely he will recover." + +"I think not. I do not think it possible he can live many days; and no +one has the same interest in the question that I have." + +She stopped a moment, and then, drawing Lucia towards her, laid her hand +gently on her shoulder. + +"Dear friend," she said, "you have spoken to me often about this child's +beauty; look at her well, and see if it will not tell you what her +father was." + +Mrs. Bellairs obeyed. Lucia, under the impulse of excitement, had +suddenly risen, and now stood pressing one hand upon the mantelpiece to +steady herself. Her eyes were full of a wistful inexplicable meaning; +her whole figure with its dark and graceful beauty seemed to express a +mystery, but it was one to which no key appeared. + +"Her father?" Mrs. Bellairs repeated. "He was a Spaniard, was not he?" + +"I have never said so. People imagined it, and I was glad that they +should, but it is not true." + +"Who then? She is dark like a Spaniard or Italian." + +"Are there no dark races but those of Europe?" + +"_What_ do you mean? Tell me, for Heaven's sake!" + +"You have always thought me a widow, yet my husband is still alive. I +left him long ago when he did not need me; now he is ill and in prison, +and I am going back to him. He is Christian, whom you have all thought a +murderer." + +"Christian! the Indian? Impossible! Lucia, can this be true?" + +"It is true." + +"And you knew it all this time?" + +"Yes. All the time." + +"My poor child, what misery! But I cannot understand. How can this be?" + +"Do you not shrink from us! We tell you the truth. We are not what you +have always known us; we are only the wife and daughter of an Indian." + +"Don't--don't speak so. What difference can it make to me? Only, how +could you bear all you must have borne? It is wonderful. I can scarcely +believe it yet." + +"Do not suppose that Lucia has been deceiving you all these years; _she_ +only knew the truth a few months ago." + +"But there is no deceit. You had a right to keep such a secret if you +chose." Mrs. Bellairs rose. She stepped to Lucia's side and kissed her +pale cheeks. "You must have had Indian courage," she said, "to be so +brave and steady at your age." + +Lucia returned the kiss with an earnestness that expressed a whole world +of grateful affection. Then she slipped out of the room, and left the +two friends together. + +They both sat down again; this time side by side, and Mrs. Costello told +in few words as much of her story as was needful. She dwelt, however, so +lightly on the sufferings of her life at Moose Island that any one, who +had known or loved her less than Mrs. Bellairs did, might have thought +she had fled with too little reason from the ties she was now so anxious +to resume. She spoke very shortly, too, of the fears she had had during +the past summer of some discovery, and mentioned having told Lucia her +true history, without any allusion to the particular time when it was +told. Mrs. Bellairs recollected the meeting with the squaw at the farm, +and inquired whether Lucia then knew of her Indian descent. + +"No," Mrs. Costello said, "that was one of the things which alarmed me. +I did not tell her till some time after that; not, indeed, until after +Bella's marriage." + +"Poor child! and then for this terrible trouble to come! No wonder you +are both changed." + +"Do you think _her_ changed?" Mrs. Costello asked in alarm. "She has +been so brave." + +"She has grown to look much older and as if she thought too much; that +is all. And _that_ is no wonder." + +Mrs. Costello was silent for a moment. She knew that Lucia had had +another burden, especially her own, to bear, and it seemed to her that +Mrs. Bellairs must know or guess something of it too. If she did, it +would be as well for her to know the exact truth. She made up her mind +at once. + +"I found that it was necessary to tell her," she said, "just before Mr. +Percy went away." + +Mrs. Bellairs looked at her inquiringly. + +"I was afraid," she answered, "that he was likely to cause you some +uneasiness." + +"He did more than that," Mrs. Costello said. "He gave Lucia her first +hard thoughts of her mother. But after all I may be doing him injustice. +Did you know that he really wanted to carry her away with him?" + +"He _did_! And she refused him?" + +"She refused him, when she knew her own position, and the impossibility +of her marrying him." + +"Dear Mrs. Costello, what complications! I begin to understand now all +that has puzzled me." + +"You had some suspicion of the truth?" + +"Of part of it. I don't like Edward Percy, and I was afraid he was +gaining an influence with Lucia which would make her unhappy. I even +thought at one time that he was really in earnest, but from some news we +received a few days ago I set that down as a mistake." + +"News of him? What was it?" + +"That he is engaged to a lady whom his father wished him to marry; and +that they are to be married almost immediately." + +"I am very glad," Mrs. Costello said, "and there is nothing to be +surprised about. He was tempted for the moment by a pretty face, but he +was not a man to waste time in thinking about a girl who had refused +him." + +She said this; but she thought in her heart, 'He is not like Maurice. If +Lucia had refused him so, he would have known that she loved him still; +and while she did so, he would have had no thoughts for any other.' She +asked, however, + +"Did you hear from _him_ that this was true?" + +"No. But it was from an old college friend of my husband's who is now in +England." + +"I do not see any use in telling Lucia. She dismissed him herself, and +is, I hope, fast forgetting him in all these other affairs that have +come upon us." + +"Surely she cannot have cared enough for him to feel the separation as +she would have done if he had really been worth loving," Mrs. Bellairs +added; and then they left the subject, quite forgetting that reason and +love seldom go hand-in-hand, and that Lucia was still devoutly believing +in two falsities: first, that Percy was capable of a steady and faithful +affection, and secondly, that he must still have something of that +affection for her. Even at this very moment she was comforting her heart +with this belief; and the discovery that her mother's dearest friends +showed no inclination to desert them in their new character, filled her +with a kind of blind sweet confidence in that one whom, as she now +thought, she had treated so ungenerously, and who did not yet know their +secret. + +In the parlour, meanwhile, many things were discussed. Mrs. Bellairs +assured her friend that the necessary arrangements for Christian's +release had already been commenced, and that Mr. Bellairs would see that +there was not a moment's delay which could be avoided. On the other +hand, however, there was strong in Mrs. Costello's mind the doubt +whether her husband would live to be removed. The utmost she now hoped +for, with any certainty, was to have liberty to be with him constantly +till the end. Finally, she told Mrs. Bellairs of her intention of going +to the jail that day and announcing her claim to the first place by the +prisoner's sick bed. Mrs. Bellairs thought a little over this plan, then +she said, + +"It is impossible that in this weather you can be constantly going +backwards and forwards between here and the jail. At our house you would +be scarcely three minutes' drive away, and there is always the sleigh +and Bob. You and Lucia must come and stay with us." + +And to this plan after much opposition and argument they were all +obliged to give in; Mr. Strafford and Lucia were called into council, +but Mrs. Bellairs was resolved. + +"You shall see nobody," she said. "You shall be exactly as much at +liberty as if you were at home, and it will spare you both time and +strength for your nursing. It will do Bella good, too; and if we can be +of any use or comfort to you, it will seem a kind of reparation." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The end of the conference was that Mr. Strafford started alone for the +jail, while Mrs. Costello and Mrs. Bellairs went together to Mr. Leigh, +to explain to him the new state of affairs; and after that, drove back +to Cacouna, whither Lucia also was to follow later. Mr. Strafford could +at that time spare but one day for his friends. He was to leave by the +evening's boat; and the Cottage was for the present to be deserted, +except by Margery. + +Mr. Strafford was admitted with, if possible, even less hesitation than +usual to Christian's room. Every one understood now that the prisoner +was entirely innocent, and in the revulsion of feeling, every one was +disposed to treat with all tenderness and honour as a martyr the very +man who, if he had never been falsely accused, they would probably have +regarded only with disgust or contempt. + +Not that there was room for either feeling _now_. It was as if this +man's history had been written from beginning to end, and then the ink +washed from all the middle pages. What memory he had left, went back to +the days when he had been a pupil of the Jesuit priests, and the traces +of that time remained with him, and were evident to all. But all was +blank from those days to these, when he lay in the wintry sunshine +dying, and scarcely conscious that he was dying in a prison. When a +voice out of that forgotten past spoke to him, his recollection seemed +to revive for a moment, and he answered in English or in Ojibway, as he +was addressed. At other times, if he began to speak at all, it was in +French, the most familiar language of his boyhood, and sometimes scraps +of the old priestly Latin would come to his lips as he lay half dozing, +and dreaming perhaps of his life in the mission-school, and the time +when he was to have been a teacher of his own people. Chiefly, however, +he lay quite silent, and seemed neither to see nor to hear what took +place around him. His face, where the hand of death was already +visible, had more of its original beauty than Mr. Strafford had ever +seen on it before; and as he came near to the bedside, he for the first +time began to comprehend, what had always till now been an enigma to +him, why Mary Wynter had loved and married her husband. + +Christian roused himself little when he perceived his visitor, and Mr. +Strafford seized the opportunity of speaking to him on the subject of +his imprisonment, as a step towards the great news he had to tell. + +"You will be glad," he said, "when you can go away from here. It will be +very soon now, perhaps." + +"No," was the answer. "I do not want to go now. If they could take away +a large piece of that wall," he went on dreamily, "so that I could +breathe and see the sky, that is all I care for now." + +"You would like, however, to know that you _can_ go away when you +please?" + +Christian looked at him earnestly. + +"But it is a prison," he said. "How do you mean, that I can go away?" + +"Do you recollect why you were brought here?" + +"Yes. They thought I had killed somebody. It was all a mistake. I knew +nothing about it; but everybody thought I did." + +"They know now that it _was_ a mistake. The man who really did it, has +told all." + +"And now?" + +"Now you are proved to be innocent. In a very short time you will be +free." + +"Free? I shall be free?" + +For a moment the dying man raised himself upright. His eyes flashed and +his face glowed as if that thought of freedom had yet power to bring him +back to life. Then he fell back again, and clasped his thin hands over +his eyes. + +"Too late," he muttered, "too late!" + +Then he began to talk about things that belonged to that former life +which seemed constantly present to his mind. He talked to himself at +first in a half whisper; then, noticing Mr. Strafford, who still sat by +his bedside, he took him for one of his former masters, and spoke to him +in French. + +"Mon père," he said, "pray do not be angry with us. We lost our way, and +that is why we have been so long. The woods are green still, but the +ground is soaked with rain, and it is hard to get through the bushes, +and we are very tired." + +A long sigh of weariness followed the words; and the prisoner fell into +one of his frequent dozes. + +So the great news had been told, and this was all its effect. Yes, +Christian was right; it was too late. Clarkson's work had been well +done; and his second victim was past all human aid. + +Mr. Strafford sat and watched; and while he watched, he thought over all +that he had known of the lives of these two, Christian and his wife, who +now occupied his mind so fully. He was still thinking when the doctor +came to pay his daily visit. The two had not met before, but each knew +the other well by report; and to-day each was anxious to question the +other on the same subject. Mr. Strafford, however, was most anxious, and +began first. + +"You know, of course," he said, "what I suppose all Cacouna is talking +of. I want to know whether Clarkson's confession has really come too +late?" + +"Too late for what, my dear sir? For this poor fellow's justification?" + +"Not exactly that, but for his liberation." + +The doctor shook his head. + +"I have my doubts," he said. "The only thing to be hoped is, that when +he hears that he is really at liberty, it may give him a little +rousing--just stimulate him sufficiently to allow of his being moved +into freer air." + +"If that is the only hope, it has failed already," Mr. Strafford +answered, and told what had taken place. + +"Then," said the doctor, "I give him up. I am afraid his life is just a +matter of days, perhaps of hours; but let me go and talk to him a +little, and then I will tell you my opinion." + +He went to the bedside, and began talking in his brisk, cheerful way, to +his patient, who was now awake. It was evident, however, that the effort +to understand and remember was weaker even than it had been yesterday, +and that this was the effect of increased physical prostration. There +was no longer any fever to supply temporary strength; but life was dying +out quietly, but hopelessly. + +Mr. Strafford still waited, with some anxiety, for the decisive +sentence. He had made up his mind that other questions beside and beyond +that of Christian's own fate might be made to depend upon it; and it +cannot be said truly that he felt much sorrow at the idea of its being +unfavourable. It was clear and decided enough, at any rate. + +"He may live for two or three days. To attempt to move him would be only +to hasten his death." + +"You are certain that there is no hope?" + +"Not a shadow." + +"Do you think it likely his mind will grow any clearer towards the +last?" + +"I do not think it; in fact, it is extremely improbable. You see, his +wandering is simply the result of weakness; as the weakness increases, +the mental faculties will probably cease gradually to act at all. One +can't, of course, say positively when; if he becomes quite unconscious +to-night, death will probably follow in the course of the next +twenty-four hours." + +"Poor fellow! There is little, then, that can be done for him?" + +"Next to nothing. He wants a nurse to give him some little nourishment +when he wakes up, and that is pretty nearly all." + +"I shall bring him the best possible nurse," Mr. Strafford said. "Mrs. +Costello wishes to come and remain here." + +The doctor looked at him curiously. + +"Mrs. Costello is my patient also," he said; "I am half inclined to +forbid her coming." + +"She is your patient, doctor! How is that? I thought she was looking +ill, though she denies it." + +"She is not ill; but as you are an old friend and adviser, I don't mind +telling you that her health is in a critical state, and that I have +forbidden her all excitement and fatigue." 'Much use,' he added to +himself, in a parenthesis. + +Mr. Strafford looked troubled. + +"She must come here, nevertheless," he said. "Even if it were possible +to keep her away, it would do no good. She would excite herself still +more." + +"Mr. Strafford," said the doctor, "If I thought that Mrs. Costello was +coming here out of mere charity, I should tell her that charity begins +at home, and that she had more reason to think of herself and her +daughter than of any prisoner in the world. However, I _don't_ think it; +and, therefore, all I have to say is, if you have any regard for her or +for Miss Costello, don't let her do more than is absolutely necessary. +Good morning." + +And the busy little man hurried off, and left Mr. Strafford with a new +uneasiness in his mind. + +Mrs. Elton, who came in and out at intervals to see if Christian wanted +anything, made her appearance immediately after, and he took the +opportunity of leaving. He hurried straight to Mrs. Bellairs' house, +where he found the two friends but just arrived. Mrs. Costello was +preparing to start for the jail, but he contrived to give a hint to Mrs. +Bellairs, and they together persuaded her to take an hour's rest before +doing so. + +Mrs. Costello had begged Mrs. Bellairs to tell Bella the secret which +she herself had just heard; and to do so without loss of time; but she +did not wish to be present, or to go through another agitating scene +that day. The two sisters, therefore, left her to rest, and to consult +with Mr. Strafford, while Bella, already excited and disturbed by the +revelations of the preceding day, heard this new and still more +surprising intelligence. It did not, certainly, take many minutes to +tell; but there was so much beyond the mere facts; so many recollections +of words or looks that had been passed by unnoticed at the time; so +much wonder at the courage with which both mother and daughter had faced +the cruel difficulties of their position, that it was nearly an hour +before the conversation ended, and they came back to their guests. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Mr. Strafford was glad to be left alone with Mrs. Costello. He had been +considering seriously what he had heard from the doctor, and what he had +himself seen of Christian's state, and had come to a decision which must +be carried out at once. + +He answered all her questions with this view clearly before him, and +explained to her solicitously how very little consequence it now was to +Christian whether the hands that ministered to his few remaining wants +were those of his own kindred or of pitying strangers. When he thought +he had made this quite evident to her, he reminded her that there was no +further question of removing either from Christian himself, or from his +wife and daughter, the stain of an undeserved ignominy; he was at this +very moment regarded by all who knew anything of the circumstances as a +victim sacrificed to save Clarkson, and justified by the manifest +interference of Providence--placed thus in a better position as regarded +public opinion than he could have been by any other train of events. +Thus no idea of compensation need longer be entertained; the generous +yearning towards the oppressed must die now that oppression was ended; +and the only result of declaring the long-concealed marriage would be to +bring upon the two women who had already suffered so much in consequence +of it, a fresh torture of wonder and notoriety--in short, there was no +longer any sufficient reason for the relationship becoming known, and +Mr. Strafford came gradually to the point of suggesting this to Mrs. +Costello. + +She heard him with surprise. As he went on telling her all that was +meant to prepare her for this idea, she listened and assented without +suspecting what was coming, but when she did understand him she said +much as she had done before, + +"It is too late to make any change now; three or four persons already +know." + +"But," Mr. Strafford answered, "they are just the persons whom you can +trust, and whom, most likely you would have wished to tell, at any +rate." + +"That is true. You think then that the truth may still be kept secret?" + +"I see no reason why it should not. Doctor Hardy suspects it, but +medical men know how to keep family secrets, and as for whatever wonder +your illness may have excited in either Mrs. Elton or her husband, the +doctor himself can easily set that at rest by saying what I am afraid is +too true, that you are subject to fainting fits." + +"You must give him a hint to do so then, please; and I know that the +others whom I have told will keep silence faithfully. But then I am not +yet quite convinced that silence ought to be kept." + +"You still feel, however, that _not_ to keep it is in some degree to +sacrifice Lucia?" + +"Yes. But you know that we have long ago weighed that matter. Heaven +knows that my heart is in the same scale as my darling's happiness, and +just for that very reason I am afraid to alter our decision." + +"You are right in saying '_we_.' I helped you to decide once, and I +wish to change your decision now; for we yielded then to what we both +believed to be the claim of duty, arising out of Christian's +imprisonment and danger. Now, however, that he is quite safe, and that +his very imprisonment proves to be one of the very best things that +could happen to him, the case is reversed; and he is no longer the first +person to be thought of." + +"You do not wish to prevent me from nursing him?" + +"Certainly not. I only think that you can nurse him just as effectually +and tenderly without all the world knowing the claim he has upon you." + +"You are quite certain that his memory and power of recognition will not +return?" + +Mr. Strafford repeated what Dr. Hardy had said. + +"I must think," Mrs. Costello answered. "Everything has come upon me so +quickly and confusingly, that I cannot decide all at once. Give me a +little while to consider." + +She leaned back wearily, and Mr. Strafford, taking a book, went and sat +down at the further end of the room. So they remained till Mrs. Bellairs +and Mrs. Morton came in together. + +When they did so, Mrs. Costello looked up with a half smile, + +"I am something like the old man in the fable," she said, "every new +piece of advice I receive alters my plans." + +"How?" asked Mrs. Bellairs. "Who has been advising you now?" + +"No new adviser, at any rate. My old and tried friend there, who, I +believe, gives quite as much thought to my affairs as if they were his +own." + +Mr. Strafford came forward. + +"I have been trying to persuade Mrs. Costello," he said, "that a secret +which half-a-dozen people know may yet be a secret." + +"Even when half the half-dozen are women? I am sure, Mr. Strafford, we +are indebted to you, if I guess truly what you mean." + +A look, grave enough, passed between the two, though they spoke lightly. + +"I have been thinking over all you say," Mrs. Costello went on, +addressing Mr. Strafford, "and I have decided to follow your advice. But +if at any moment, even the last, there should seem sufficient reason for +changing my opinion, remember that I do not promise not to do so." + +Mr. Strafford was fully satisfied with this; he knew, or thought he +knew, perfectly, that Christian's condition was such as to ensure no +further change of conduct regarding him; and not long after, he and Mrs. +Costello returned together to the prison. + +For two or three hours they sat beside the prisoner, and talked at +intervals to each other, or to him, with long pauses of thought between. +There was much for both to think of. The necessity of action seemed to +be all over, or at least, to be suspended as long as Christian's life +should last; and in this time of waiting, whether it were hours or days, +all that could be done was to build up plans for the future which, when +they were built, any one of the various possible changes of +circumstances might at once overthrow. + +But so entirely had Mrs. Costello identified herself with her daughter +in all her habits and thoughts, that that dwelling on the future, which +is the special prerogative of youth, seemed as natural to her as though +her own life had all lain before, instead of behind her; and she found +herself perpetually occupied with the consideration of what was best to +be done for that future which had been so often taken, as it were, out +of her guidance. + +Sitting by her husband's deathbed, however, the long-estranged wife +seemed to live a double life. The recollection of the past--of the short +and secret courtship with its illusions, greater and more perilous than +love's illusions commonly are--of her first days of married life, when, +in spite of her rash disobedience, she was feverishly happy; of the +awaking, and total disenchantment, and the wretched years that followed, +all came to her in a floating, broken vision, filling her with emotions +which had, at last, lost their bitterness. She yielded to them without +resistance and without effort, and sank into a long silence, which was +broken at last by Mr. Strafford. + +"I must leave you," he said. "The boat starts in half an hour, and I +want to see Mrs. Bellairs for a moment." + +Mrs. Costello roused herself. + +"Good-bye, then," she answered. "Dear Mr. Strafford, you know I have +long ago given up trying to thank you for all you do for me; you must +accept obedience as a proof of gratitude." + +"See that you do obey me then," he replied smiling, "by taking care of +yourself. Have you any message for Lucia?" + +"Do you not think she might come here?" + +"Yes, perfectly well. Shall I tell her you expect her?" + +"Please." + +"And you will return to Mrs. Bellairs with her?" + +"We shall see. I do not promise." + +"Well, I will not ask too much. Good-bye." + +He went to the bedside, took Christian's hand and bade him also +good-bye. He was roused for a moment, but his thoughts still returned to +the old days. + +"Adieu! father," he said; "I think I shall be gone when you come back. +Do you know that I am going on a journey? They will not tell me where, +but I shall not forget you all here. Ask the Saints to bring me safe +back." + +Mr. Strafford knelt by the bed for a moment, and asked a heavenly guide +for the poor wanderer on this his last journey, but he seemed to hear +nothing and went on murmuring to himself, + +"Ave Maria, gratia plena--" + +When her friend was gone, and Mrs. Costello came back to her seat, he +was still feebly repeating "pro nobis peccatoribus, pro nobis +peccatoribus," with a faint trembling voice, as if even to the dulled +faculties, through the deepening shadow of death, some faint distorted +gleam of the truth had pierced, and the soul was, in truth, less torpid +than the brain. + +His wife sat by his side, and listened, deeply touched. She perceived +that the part of his life with which she was associated, was dead to +him; she could only stand aside and watch while the shadows of an +earlier time gathered closely round him. But the more she understood +this, the more a painful tenderness filled her heart towards him; she +almost fancied that she had loved him all these years, and only found it +out now that he had forgotten her. She began to grow impatient for +Lucia's coming, and to long for the moment when she should be able to +say, + +"My child, this is your father." + +The broad clear light of sunshine upon snow had begun to soften towards +twilight when Lucia came. + +Mrs. Bellairs brought her, but stayed below, that that meeting might +have no witnesses. A trembling hand upon the lock warned Mrs. Costello, +and she met her daughter at the door and brought her in. + +Lucia had been struggling all day--ever since she knew that she was, at +last, to see her father--to forget the one moment when they had met +before; and all her efforts had been worse than useless. She came in, +agitated and distressed, with the vision of that night clear and vivid +before her recollection. So it was at the threshold. Her mother led her +to the bedside, and the vision fled. Her eyes fell upon a face, little +darker than her own, where not the slightest flush even of life-like +colour remained, where a perfect calm had given back their natural +nobleness to the worn features, and where scarcely a line was left to +show the trace of life's sins or sufferings. She stood for a moment half +bewildered. She knew that what she saw was but the faintest shadow of +what had been, and, turning, she threw her arms about her mother's neck, +and whispered, + +"Ah, mamma! I understand all now." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Mother and daughter watched for some time in silence. At last Lucia +whispered, "May I go and tell Mrs. Bellairs that I shall remain with +you?" + +"Is she here, then? Go, rather, and ask her to come to me for a moment." + +Lucia went, and came to Mrs. Bellairs with such strange gladness in her +face that she looked as she had not done for months past. + +"Will you go up to mamma?" she said. "My father seems to be asleep, and +she wishes to see you." + +And the two went upstairs together without further words. Mrs. Bellairs +feared lest another strange face at the bedside might disturb the dying +man; she lingered, therefore, at a little distance, but she, too, looked +with wonder at the silent figure lying there in a kind of peaceful +state, all unlike the vagrant Indian--the supposed criminal--she had +heard of. Mrs. Costello came to her, and Lucia sat down in her mother's +place. + +"I brought you a message from William," Mrs. Bellairs said. "The order +for his release is come. He is free. Is it too late?" + +"Come a little nearer and see for yourself. You will not disturb him. +Yes, dear friend, it is too late for any release but one to reach him +now." + +Mrs. Bellairs' lip trembled. "Ah, how cruel it seems!" she said. "How +can you forgive us?" + +"Forgive _you_? Why?" + +"It seems as if we were to blame, because it was my poor Bella's loss +that brought this on him." + +"It was Clarkson's wickedness, nothing else. But do not let us talk of +that. Some good has come out of the evil, as you see." + +The eyes of both the friends rested on the father and daughter so +strangely brought together. The strong likeness between them was +unmistakable, yet Lucia's beauty had never been more vivid and striking +than now when she watched her dying father, with the light of such +varied emotions flickering on her face. + +"Poor child!" Mrs. Costello went on. "This is better than I ever hoped +for her." They went nearer, and Mrs. Bellairs bent down and kissed +Lucia's cheek. + +"Make your mother go home with me," she whispered. "This will be more +than she is equal to." Then turning again to her friend she went on, "I +see you are right, and I must go back and tell my husband. You will come +with me?" + +"No. I have a presentiment that I shall not be needed here long; while I +am, I must stay." + +"But you cannot be sure, and you must not tire yourself out at the +beginning." + +"I shall not tire myself. I can rest here perfectly, only I cannot leave +him." + +"We met the doctor just now. He said he was coming here again. Will you +come if he advises it?" + +Mrs. Costello again shook her head. + +"You all think too much of me. You must leave me here, dear Mrs. +Bellairs, and Lucia can stay for an hour or two if she wishes; and tell +Mr. Bellairs how much we thank him, and that nothing can be done now." + +Lucia looked wistfully at her mother's pale face. + +"Cannot you trust me to watch here for a little while? There seems to be +so very little to do," she said; but Mrs. Costello had made up her mind, +and their friend left them both together. + +As she went down, the doctor was coming in. She would not leave the jail +until she had heard his report; so she sat down to wait in Mrs. Elton's +sitting-room. + +Doctor Hardy had little expectation of finding any change. He had said +to Mr. Strafford that the next four-and-twenty hours might bring the +final one, but even that would come softly and gradually. He knew also +that he should find Mrs. Costello installed as nurse, and guessed that +she had more than an ordinary interest in her task; but for the first +moment he doubted whether she knew the true state of her patient. This +doubt, however, she soon ended, for she asked, as he had been asked +before. + +"Do you think it likely he may become conscious again?" + +He shook his head. + +She sighed. + +"It is better so, no doubt, but I wish so much for five minutes even." + +Then she remembered that she was speaking out her thoughts to one who +was not in her secret. She hesitated a moment, but as her eye fell upon +Lucia, she decided to trust this one more. Her voice trembled, however, +as she spoke. + +"You have seen already," she said, "that we are not strangers; I think I +ought to tell you the truth. I am his wife; we were married long ago in +England, and separated when Lucia was a baby." + +Doctor Hardy bowed. He did not know exactly what to say, and saw no +necessity for confessing that he had, some time ago, surmised pretty +nearly the facts he was now told. + +Mrs. Costello went on: "I intended to acknowledge my marriage, but since +it can be of no benefit to my husband, my friends have persuaded me not +to do so. But you can imagine how much I wish----" She faltered and +stopped, looking at the dying man, who was never to know what care and +love surrounded him at last. + +"There is certainly a possibility that the stupor may pass off for a +time," the doctor said, "but, my dear madam, for your sake I cannot +wish it. You must be content to know that there is no pain or distress +attending this state, and that it is by far the best for you and for +him." + +He went up to the bed and gently touched Christian's hand. It was quite +powerless and chilly, but at the touch he opened his eyes, and seemed +dimly to recognize his visitor. One or two questions were asked, and +answered as if in a dream; then the weary eyes closed again, and all +around seemed forgotten. + +The doctor gave some slight directions and then left; but to Mrs. +Bellairs he said, + +"It is nearly over. Mrs. Costello will stay to-night, but probably +before morning you will be able to get her away." + +They went out together; but an hour later Mrs. Bellairs came back to +wait, lest in the night the two who watched upstairs might want a friend +at hand. The jailer's wife sent her husband to bed, and making a bright +fire, sat up with her guest as they had previously agreed. + +Night wore on, however, and all remained still and undisturbed. About +midnight Christian's doze deepened into a sound sleep, and Lucia too, +sitting in the warmth of the store, slept in spite of herself. For +nearly an hour the room was so still that Mrs. Costello could count +every tick of her watch, and every change in the flickering sound of the +wood fire. _She_ had no inclination to sleep. + +For this one hour she felt herself a wife like other wives--a wife and +mother,--watching her husband and her child. It was still a mystery to +her how this could be, but the feeling had its own exquisite sweetness, +how dearly soever that sweetness was bought; and she drank it in +greedily. Now and then she rose softly to assure herself that all was +well, and each time the even breath and calm face spoke of rest that +might have been life-giving, if there had yet been in the worn-out frame +the faintest power of revival. + +But between one and two o'clock Christian awoke. He did not move, but +his wife, looking at him, saw his eyes open, and an indescribable +difference in his aspect which made her heart leap, for she knew that +his mind had awakened also, for that one last recognition that she had +so longed for. She said nothing, however, but brought a few spoonfuls of +wine and gave to him. He took them, watching her silently all the while, +but not seeming fully to recognize her until she came and knelt down at +his side, taking his cold hand in hers. Then he smiled, and turning a +little towards her, said "Mary!" + +She could not answer, but she bent her head down for a moment upon the +hand she held. + +"You have been here before?" he went on. "I remember seeing you. You +have forgiven me, then?" + +"Quite. Think of other things now." + +"I can't think of anything except that I must be dying, and that I am +glad you are here." + +"I have been near you all the while you have been here; I shall not +leave you again." + +"No, not again--it will be such a little while, and I cannot hurt you +now. Have you been happy?" + +"Sometimes. I had our child." + +"Where is she?" + +"Here. She was tired and has fallen asleep." + +"Don't wake her yet. I know I forget a great deal--everything seems far +off--but just at last I wanted you, and you are here." + +Both were silent for a minute. Then he spoke again-- + +"Mary, why did you marry an Indian?" + +"Because I loved him," she said, her voice half choked by sobs. + +"It was a pity. You knew nothing. They cheated you into it; but I think, +though he was a brute, he loved you always. In his way, you know, as +much as he could." + +His mind seemed to be beginning to wander again, and his voice grew +weaker. She rose, crying quietly, and gave him a little more wine. Then +she touched Lucia and said, "Come, my child." + +Lucia was instantly awake. She followed her mother to the bedside. + +"Here is our daughter. Can you see her?" + +"Not very well. Is she like you?" + +"No. She is an Indian girl--strangers say she is beautiful, but to me +she is only my brave, good child." + +"I am glad. She will make amends. It is all right now; you will be free +and safe. Good-bye." + +He was silent for awhile, lying with closed eyes; and when he spoke +again it was in Ojibway. He seemed to be talking to his own people, and +to fancy himself out in the woods with a hunting party. After a time +this ceased also, and then he began to talk confusedly in the three +languages which were familiar to him, and in broken, incoherent +sentences. His voice, however, grew fainter and fainter. The wine which +they gave him at short intervals seemed to revive him each time for a +moment; but neither of them could doubt that the end was very near. + +But as it came nearer still, the delusion that had been strongest lately +came back to the dying man. He again fancied himself a child--the +favourite pupil of the Jesuit fathers. He began to repeat softly, +lessons they had taught him--prayers and scraps of hymns, sometimes +Latin, sometimes French. Once, after a pause, he began to recite, quite +clearly, a Latin Psalm-- + +"O Domine, libera animam meam: misericors Dominus et justus; et Deus +miseretur.... Convertere, anima mea, in requiem tuam, quia Dominus +benefecit tibi"-- + +Again there was a silence, for he was deaf to all earthly voices, and +the wife and daughter knelt side by side and listened to those strange +broken sentences, which seemed to come from a mind dead to all outward +influences, yet not wholly unconscious of its own state. + +Once he said "Mary;" but though she held his hand still clasped in +hers, his wife could not make her voice heard in answer. Then he talked +again murmuringly of old times; and last of all when the low musical +tones had grown very feeble, but were musical still, Mary heard, "Mon +Dieu, j'espère avec une ferme confiance"--There the words seemed to +fail, until they grew audible again for one last moment--"la vie +éternelle." + +So he grew silent for ever in this life. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The cold grey of the early winter morning was just beginning to be +warmed by the first flash of crimson before sunrise, as Mrs. Bellairs +drove away from the prison gates with the two who had kept so strange a +vigil. Neither of them noticed the sky then, or they might have seen how +after the shadows began to disappear, and the snowy glimmer which had +shone palely all night, was swallowed up in the growing brightness of +morning, everything began to be tinged with rosy splendour, and life +fresh and joyous, sprang up to meet the sun. It was winter still--all +last year's leaves and flowers were dead, and there was the hush of snow +and frost upon everything; but over all, after storm and night came +light and gladness, and the flowers would bloom again in their season. + +It was quite early still and few people were stirring. They saw no one +on their arrival except Bella, who was ready to run down and admit them +the moment their sleigh-bells were heard. Mother and daughter went to +their room, where the fire had been burning all night in readiness for +their coming, and where Mrs. Bellairs herself brought them some coffee. +Then Lucia lay down and was soon asleep; and Mrs. Costello seeing that +she was so, followed her example. + +There was no vehement grief to keep her waking in these first hours of +her widowhood, but rather a sense of infinite calm. The thought of her +husband, so long a daily torture and irritation, was now a sacred +memory--the last few hours had been to her the renewal of her marriage +vows, to which death had brought only a fuller ratification, after +life's long divorce. She was very weak and weary; and but for the child +beside her, would have been glad to enter herself that unseen world +whose gates seemed so near, and to have rested there; but it was not +time yet. So she lay and thought, calmly and soberly, till she too +dropped asleep. + +She kept in her room all day till quite evening. Mr. Bellairs had +undertaken to make all the needful arrangements, and it was not +necessary that any one should know that the real direction of affairs +rested with her. Her first occupation was to write to Mr. Strafford, +telling him of Christian's death, and of her own wish, that the body +should be taken to Moose Island for burial. It would have to be removed +as soon as possible from the jail, and she desired that it might be +carried at once to her old home, where she and Lucia would be ready to +receive it. This letter was sent off by a special messenger; but as +there could be no doubt of the answer, all went on at Cacouna as if it +had already arrived. In the evening, when Mrs. Costello came down to +join the rest of the family in the drawing-room, she had changed little +of her usual gentle manner. There might be a deeper shade of gravity, +but she was not, and did not appear, sad. Lucia and Bella were sitting +together, talking softly. They had been speaking of the last few +months--not saying much--but growing into a closer sympathy with each +other, as they understood how great had been their community of sorrow, +than they had ever felt in the unclouded years of their girlish +friendship. It was long since Lucia had given up her fancies about +Bella's marriage. The shock of her widowhood had shaken off all the gay +affectations of the bride and brought her within the comprehension of +Lucia's steadier and more transparent nature. And now that the secret +which had stood so grimly between them was told, nothing remained to +spoil the comfort of their intercourse. + +Except its shortness. While they talked, an occasional sentence spoken +by one or other of the elder group reached their ears, and once they +stopped their conversation to listen. Mrs. Costello was saying, in +answer to some question-- + +"To France, I think. Indeed I am sure we shall go there first." + +"But," said Mrs. Bellairs, "such a voyage at this time of year! Do wait +till spring." + +"Except that it will be cold, I do not think the voyage will be worse +now than at any other time," Mrs. Costello answered quietly. + +"But, Lucia!" said Bella, "surely you are not going away now?" + +"It seems that we are. Mamma has said nothing to me about it to-day, +and I thought she might have given up the idea." + +"Until to-day, then, you knew she intended it?" + +"Yes." Lucia's cheeks grew rosy as she answered, for she remembered why +the idea of European travel had seemed pleasant to her. One word from +her companion might have set all those fluttering thoughts and hopes at +rest; but Bella guessed nothing of them, and neither saw Lucia's change +of colour, nor, if she had seen it, would have understood its cause. + +"Do you think you will be long away?" she asked. + +"I have no idea _now_. I think that before, mamma did not mean to come +back at all." + +"And you can leave Canada, and all of us so easily?" + +"Oh! no, no;" and Lucia blushed more deeply than before. "Oh! Bella, I +am a real Canadian girl. I should long for Canada again often, often, if +I were away,--and for all of you." + +"I don't see," Bella said, half sadly, half crossly, "what good it does +people to go away. There is Maurice, who seems to have everything he can +wish for, and yet, according to Mr. Leigh, he is perfectly restless and +miserable, and wants to come back." + +"Poor Maurice! if he is coming back I wish he would come before we go; +but I suppose he cannot leave while Mr. Beresford lives." + +"I don't see why you should care. You will see him in England; shan't +you?" + +"No. Mamma can't go to England. But perhaps he might come over to see us +in France, if we stop there." + +"Of course, he will. And if by that time you are both home sick, you can +come out together again, you know." + +Lucia shook her head. + +"Maurice will be a great man, and have to stay at home and look after +his estates, and by-and-by you will all forget us when he and Mr. Leigh +are living together in Norfolk, and mamma and I are wandering--who knows +where?" + +Bella's hand fell softly upon her friend's; but they said no more. The +others, too, had grown silent, and there was little more talk among them +that night. + +But after they had separated, and the mother and daughter were alone, +Lucia asked whether their voyage was still really to take place +immediately? + +Mrs. Costello was sitting thoughtfully watching a little disk of glowing +light formed by the opening in the stove door; she took her eyes from it +slowly, and paused so long before answering that Lucia began to doubt +whether she had heard. + +"Yes," she said at last, speaking deliberately, as if she were still +debating the question in her own mind. "I believe we shall be able to +arrange everything here so as to reach New York in time for the Havre +steamer of the 28th. That will be our best way of going." + +"That is, four weeks from to-day?" + +"We may not need so long. But I wish to be at liberty to spend a week at +the island, if, when we get there, I should wish to do so. I am not sure +even about that. It may be more pain than pleasure. And we may trust +ourselves now to say good-bye to our friends here; and if we sail on the +28th, we must leave Cacouna, on the 26th at the latest. The time will +soon pass." + +"Yes, indeed," Lucia answered with a sigh. + +"But, mamma," she went on a minute afterwards. "Why cannot we wait till +spring?" There was a kind of tremble in her voice as she spoke, for she +felt a strange mixture of desire and reluctance for this journey. On one +hand, she wished to reach Europe quickly, because Percy was there, and +because even if they never met again, she believed she should be able to +hear of him, and to satisfy herself that he still thought of her. On the +other, she was really a little afraid of the winter voyage. She had +never even seen the sea, and had a kind of mysterious awe of it. +Stronger, however, than any selfish feeling was a keen anxiety which had +taken possession of her with regard to her mother's health, the +feebleness of which became daily more apparent; so that her double +wishes neutralized each other, and she could scarcely tell whether if +the decision rested with her, it would have been to stay or to go. + +But she wanted to hear her mother's reasons, so she asked-- + +"Why cannot we wait till spring?" + +Mrs. Costello again paused before answering. She, like Lucia, had more +thoughts on the subject than she was willing to express; but she had one +powerful reason for losing no time, which she decided that Lucia ought +to know. + +"Because I am anxious to see my cousin, who is almost our only relation, +and to introduce you to him." + +"But why, mamma? As we cannot go to England what good will it do us just +to see him for a moment?" + +"I cannot go to England, but there is nothing to prevent you from doing +so." + +"Oh, dear, that old idea still! It is quite useless, mamma. You shall +not send me away from you." + +Lucia knelt by her mother's side, and looked up into her face with eyes +full of mingled entreaty and resolution. Mrs. Costello drew her close +within her arm. + +"No, my darling. I have given up that idea altogether. Indeed, there is +no longer any need for it, and I should grudge losing you out of my +sight for a single day now. But, don't you understand that a time may be +coming when we shall have to part, whether we will or no?" + +"Ah! not yet. There is plenty of time to think of that." + +"Perhaps. But I doubt it. At any rate I have less reason than most +people to count on long life." + +Again Lucia looked up. A cold, unspeakable terror filled her heart, and +she tried to read the secret which her mother's calm face hid from her. +Mrs. Costello delayed no longer to tell her all the truth. + +"Many months ago," she said, "I was convinced that the disease of which +my mother died, had attacked me. I suppose there might be some +hereditary predisposition towards it, and too much thought and care +brought it on. I determined not to allow myself any fancies on the +subject. I sent for Doctor Hardy, and contrived to see him several times +during the autumn without letting you suspect anything. He could only +acknowledge that I was right, and tell me to avoid excitement and +fatigue. You know how possible _that_ was. And so this mischief has been +going on fast, and the end may be nearer than even I think it is." + +Her voice faltered at the last words, and Lucia, who had listened to +every one with the feeling that so many knives were being plunged +through and through her heart, slipped down from her resting-place, and +crouched on the floor, hiding her face and stifling the sobs that shook +her whole body. She longed to cry out, to clasp her arms round her +mother, to struggle, with all the force of her great love, against this +fate; and yet, so well had she understood, so clearly she remembered, +even through her agony, the need for quietness, that she kept a force +upon herself like iron, trying to steady the pulses that throbbed so +wildly, with one thought, or rather one impulse, "I must not trouble +_her_." + +Mrs. Costello looked at her child for a moment in silence. Even she did +not yet fully understand the force of that quality which Lucia herself +had once ascribed to her Indian blood, but which, in truth, had little +affinity with common fortitude, for it was simply a conquest of self, +gained without thought or conscious effort, by the greater power of +love. But such contests cannot last long. This was fierce and cruel, but +it ended as love willed. The poor child dragged herself up again to her +mother's knee, and drew the pale, fair face down to her own flushed and +burning one; but one kiss, silent and full of anguish, was all that she +dared venture yet. But she longed to hear more, and presently Mrs. +Costello spoke again, not daring yet to go back to the point of which +they had last spoken, but returning to the subject of their journey. + +"The steamer calls at Southampton," she said. "I intend to write to +George, and tell him the time of our sailing, so that, if he wishes, he +can meet us there. We will go from Havre to Paris, and stay there for +awhile; afterwards, I think we should be more comfortable in a country +town, if we can find one not too inaccessible." + +There was something in this sentence peculiarly reassuring. Lucia +instinctively reasoned that, since her mother could make plans for their +future so far in advance, the danger of which she had just spoken must +be remote. What is remote, we readily believe uncertain; and thus, after +a few minutes of absolute hopelessness, she began to hope again, +tremblingly and fearfully, but still with more ardour than if the +previous alarm had been less complete. + +"Dear mamma," she said, "Doctor Hardy may be very clever, but I am not +going to put any faith in him. When we get to Paris you must have the +very best advice that is to be had, and you will have nothing to do but +take care of yourself." + +"Very well," and Mrs. Costello smiled, reading the hope clearly enough, +though she had not fully read the despair. "And in the meantime you may +hear what I want to say to you about my cousin." + +"Yes, mamma. But you know I don't like him, all the same. I know I +should have hated him just as you did when you were a girl." + +"I hope not. At any rate, you must not hate him now, for I have asked +him to be your guardian, and he has consented." + +Lucia shuddered at that word "guardian," and the thought implied in it, +but she determined to say no more about her prejudice against Mr. +Wynter. + +"You know," Mrs. Costello said, "that it would be much more comfortable +for me to know that you were left in the care of my own people than with +any one else. It will be three years before you are of age. To suppose +that you may need a guardian, therefore, is neither improbable nor +alarming; and my reason for proposing to settle in France is, that you +may be within a short distance of him." + +Lucia could only assent. + +"I shall try," her mother continued, "to persuade him to pay us a visit +there, and to bring his wife, who is a good woman, and I am sure would +be kind to my child. I long very much, Lucia, sometimes, to know that, +though I can never see the dear old home again, you may do so." + +"Have they any children?" Lucia asked, her thoughts dwelling on the +Wynters. + +"They have lost several, George told me. There are three living, and the +eldest, I think, is about your age." + +They had talked themselves quite calm now. The idea of her own death had +only troubled Mrs. Costello with regard to Lucia; and now that she was +in some measure prepared for it, it seemed even less terrible than +before. Lucia, for her part, had put by all consideration of the subject +for the present; to think of it without agonies of distress was +impossible, and at present to agitate herself would be to agitate her +mother--a thing at any cost of after-suffering to be avoided. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Next morning Mrs. Costello and Lucia prepared to return to the Cottage. +They were to remain there till the following evening, and then Mr. +Bellairs proposed to drive them down to the first village below Cacouna +at which the steamboats called, that they might there embark for Moose +Island, instead of being obliged to do so at the Cacouna wharf, where +they were certain to meet inquisitive acquaintances. But a short time +before they were to leave their friends, Doctor Hardy called. + +He asked to see Mrs. Costello, and was taken into the small room where +Mrs. Bellairs usually passed her mornings. No one else was present, and +he told her at once that he had called to ask her assistance in an +affair which he feared would be painful to her. + +She smiled gravely. "I am too grateful to you, doctor," she said, "not +to be pleased that you should have anything to ask." + +"I don't know," he went on, "whether Mr. Bellairs has told you the +details of Clarkson's death--I mean as to what appeared to influence him +in making his confession?" + +"No," she answered, rather wondering what this could have to do with +her. + +"I think," the doctor proceeded, "that for all his brutality in other +respects, Clarkson was a good husband, and as fond of his wife and +children as if he had been a model of virtue. At all events, his last +thought was of his wife; and I rashly promised to see that she did not +suffer on his account. But I can't keep my promise without help." + +He paused, not at all sure how Mrs. Costello might feel on the subject; +and whether all that she and her husband had suffered might have +completely embittered her towards the whole family of the murderer. + +"Certainly," she answered, "it would be very hard to punish the innocent +for the guilty; and I have heard nothing but good of Mrs. Clarkson." + +The doctor felt relieved. + +"I believe there is nothing but good that could be told of her," he said +warmly. "I have known something of her for a long time, and there is not +a more decent, respectable woman in the township. It is a mystery how +she ever married that wretched fellow; but after she had married him she +was a good wife, and did what little she could to keep him out of +mischief. What is strangest of all, however, is, that she is almost +heart broken, poor soul, not for his wickedness, but for his death." + +"Poor thing! But the circumstances of his death must have made it more +horrible to her?" + +"It is a mercy that she does not seem to have understood that. She is +very ill, and seems not to have had time to think yet--except that she +has a vague idea that her children will starve." + +"They shall not do that. You shall tell me what to do for them--that is +my affair." + +"Thank you. I thought you would feel for her. But the plan I have in my +mind depends chiefly on Mrs. Morton, and I feel that it is asking a +great deal to expect _her_ to do anything." + +"It is indeed. I should be almost afraid to speak to her on the +subject." + +"If she had had her way, I imagine, matters would never have been so bad +between Doctor Morton and Clarkson. I know she was inclined to be +indulgent--perhaps too indulgent--when this poor woman came to her about +their rent." + +"She is very kind hearted. But after her goodness has been so cruelly +abused, how can one expect her now to be even just? But, indeed, you +have not yet told me what you wish her to do?" + +"I should like to get permission for the widow and children to stay +where they are through the winter. The poor woman is very ill; she had a +baby born yesterday morning, which is, happily, not likely to live, and +at present, I believe, it is just the thought of her children that keeps +her alive. She can't at the best be moved for some weeks, and I think if +Mrs. Morton could know how she is really situated, she could not help +wishing to spare her more trouble." + +"I dare say you are right, and that you do Mrs. Morton more justice +than I do. But Lucia might be able to help us; do you mind taking her +into our councils?" + +"Quite the contrary; pray consult her." + +Mrs. Costello opened the drawing-room door and called Lucia. Then she +explained to her shortly the doctor's wishes, and asked whether Bella +had ever alluded in their conversations to Mrs. Clarkson. + +"Yes; two or three times," Lucia answered. "She heard somehow yesterday +that she was ill, and told me. She is very sorry for her, and I think +she would be glad to do anything she can." + +"Thank you, Miss Costello; you will help me, I see," cried Doctor Hardy, +delighted. + +Mrs. Costello smiled, "You had better leave it in Lucia's hands, +doctor," she said. "But tell me first whether there is anything in +particular that we can do? Is Mrs. Clarkson too ill to see any one?" + +"That depends very much upon who it is. Anybody who could relieve her +mind about those unfortunate children of hers would do her good." + +"Perhaps I may go over then, if we have good news for her." + +The doctor said good-morning, and went away, tolerably satisfied that +his promise to the dying man would be fulfilled without further trouble +on his part. + +"When women take up a thing of that sort," he meditated, "they seldom do +it by halves. Now I would venture to bet something handsome that all +these three, who have cause, if ever women had, to hate the very name of +Clarkson, will be just as kind and pitiful to that poor thing as if she +were the only sufferer among them. _She's_ all right, if we can but get +her on her legs again." + +This opinion was not altogether a mistaken one. Lucia went immediately +to Bella and told her simply that Doctor Hardy was much concerned about +Mrs. Clarkson, and that she herself was going to Beaver Creek to see +what could best be done for the poor woman and her family. A quiver +passed over Mrs. Morton's face. She could not yet quite free herself +from the impulse of revenge which would have held her back from help and +pity; she had the natural feeling which Mrs. Costello had half +unconsciously imputed to her, that she ought to be the last to console +the widow and children of the murderer; such feelings, however had but +a momentary power over her; the idea which was most at home in her mind +and took root to the extinction of the others, was just the simple +womanly one that there was somebody in deep trouble whom she could help. +She said shortly and without any exclamations or questions, "I will go +with you; Elise wants Bob to take your mamma home, and it will take us +too long to walk, so I will send down to Lane's at once for a sleigh. +Tell Mrs. Costello, Lucia, and then get ready." + +There was nothing for anybody to say against Bella's going. She had +always been decided and independent in her doings, and since her +widowhood nobody thought of advising or persuading her. Mrs. Bellairs +looked grave when she heard of this expedition, and took an opportunity +of begging Lucia, to try to prevent any exciting scene, and to insist +upon coming home again immediately; but even she said nothing to her +sister. + +The two sleighs came to the door at the same time, and as Mrs. Costello +and Mrs. Bellairs drove off towards the cottage, Bella and Lucia started +in the opposite direction. They had not much to say to each other on the +way; and both, as they passed the fatal spot where the murder had been +committed affected to be occupied with their own thoughts, that they +might neither meet each other's eyes nor seem to remember where they +were. They soon began to pass along the white and scarcely-trodden track +which ran beside the creek. All was silent and desolate. The water, +almost black by contrast with the snow, washed against the bank with a +dull monotonous sound just audible; the fishing-hut had been transformed +into a great heap of snow, and the branches, heavily laden, hung quite +motionless under the cold grey sky. Not a sign of life appeared till +they came in sight of the log-house and the light curl of smoke from its +chimney. Neither had seen the place before--to Lucia, indeed, it had +possessed no interest till the events of the last month or two, and she +looked out with the sort of shuddering curiosity which is naturally +excited by the place where we know a great crime to have been hidden in +the daily life of the inhabitants. But Bella remembered many small +incidents connected with this fatal property of hers--and if a wish +could have brought those dark sullen waters to cover the whole farm and +hide it out of sight and memory, they would have risen that moment. Yet, +after all, the unchangeable fact of _her_ suffering and sorrow was no +reason for others suffering; she put aside for the present all the pangs +of personal feeling, and prepared to go into the house with a face and +manner fit for her mission. + +When they reached it, all was so very still inside that they hesitated +to knock; and while they paused, the woman who had undertaken the office +of nurse, and who had seen the sleigh arrive, softly opened the door and +admitted them. She pointed to the bed to show them that her patient was +asleep; and they sat down to wait for her waking. The house contained +but one room, with a small lean-to which served the purpose of a back +kitchen, and made it possible for the other apartment to have that look +of almost dainty cleanliness and order which the visitors noticed. No +attempt had ever been made to hide the logs, of which the walls were +built. A line of plaster between each kept out the wind, and gave a +curious striped appearance to the inside. The floor was of boards, +unplaned, but white as snow, and partly covered by a rag carpet. In the +middle of the room stood the stove, and a small table near it. An +old-fashioned chest of drawers of polished oak, a dresser of pine wood +and some rush-seated chairs had their places against the walls; but in +the further corner stood the chief piece of furniture, and the one which +drew the attention of the visitors with the most powerful attraction. It +was a large clumsy four-post bedstead, hung with blue and white homespun +curtains, and covered with a gay patchwork quilt. The curtains on both +sides were drawn back, and the face and figure of the sleeper were in +full view. She lay as if under the influence of a narcotic, so still +that her breathing could scarcely be distinguished. Two or three days of +intense suffering had given her the blanched shrunken look which +generally comes from long illness; her face, comely and bright in +health, was sunk and pallid, with black marks below the closed eyes; one +hand stretched over the covers, held all through her sleep that of a +little girl, her eldest child, who was half kneeling on a chair, half +lying across the bed, with her head resting on the pillow. At the foot +of the bed stood a wooden cradle--the covering disarranged and partly +fallen on the floor, while the poor little baby, wrapped in an old +blanket, lay in the nurse's arms, and now and then feebly cried, or +rather moaned, as if it were almost too weak to make its complaint +heard. A boy of about six sat in a low seat silently busy with a knife +and a piece of wood; and a younger girl, tired of the sadness and +constraint around, had climbed upon a chair, and resting one arm on the +dresser, laid her round rosy cheek on it, and fallen asleep. + +Mrs. Morton and Lucia were both strangers to the nurse. She merely +understood that they had come with some kind intentions towards her +charge, and when she had put chairs for them near the stove and seen +them sit down to wait, she returned to her occupation of rocking and +soothing the poor little mite she held in her arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +At last there was a movement, and a faint sigh as the sleeper awoke. +Bella, by a kind of instinctive movement, rose, and holding out her +arms, took the baby that the nurse might be at liberty to attend to the +mother. It was a strange moment. The little creature had ceased moaning, +and lay quite tranquil, its tiny face looking whiter and more wax-like +under the shadow of the heavy crape veil which hung partly over it. It +even seemed to nestle closer to the heart through which its touch sent +so keen a stab of pain, and the young widow bent low over it as her eyes +were blinded for an instant by a vision of what might have been. What +might have been! The happiness she had just begun to taste, the hope +that would have made her future bright, had been crushed together by +this child's father--yet the frail little creature lay tenderly cradled +in her arms. She looked at it; she touched the soft cheek with her cold +and trembling lips; she seemed by her own will to press the sting +through and through her heart; and as she did so, she saw and accepted +her part in life--to have henceforth no individual existence, but to +fill her solitary days with thoughts of charity, and to draw from the +recollection of her own anguish the means of consolation for the griefs +of others. + +Lucia turned away. She guessed something, though but little, of her +friend's thoughts, and moved towards the bed, to be ready to speak to +Mrs. Clarkson. The little girl, released by her mother's waking, slipped +down, and joined her brother, and Lucia, seeing herself perceived, went +round to the place she had occupied. + +"I do not know whether you know me, Mrs. Clarkson," she said. "I am +Lucia Costello. Doctor Hardy told my mother of your illness, and she +sent me to see whether we cannot be of some use to you or the little +ones." + +Lucia had puzzled beforehand over what she should say, but finally her +little speech was just what happened to come into her head at the +moment. However, it made small difference, since the speech and the +manner were both kind, and kindness was the first thing needed. + +Mrs. Clarkson looked at her with a mixed expression of gratitude and +eagerness. + +"It's not for me, miss," she said earnestly, "but for the poor little +ones. I used to be a good one to work, but, you see, I can't work for +'em now--not at present." + +And tears of extreme weakness filled her eyes. + +Lucia laid her hand softly on the thin fingers that lay nervously +catching at the edge of the sheet. + +"Don't be the least afraid about them," she answered. "Mamma and the +doctor will see that they are taken care of; only we thought you would +be glad to know that people were thinking about them. There is another +visitor here who can do you more good than I can--Mrs. Morton." + +Lucia moved aside, and Bella took her place. Mrs. Clarkson looked up +anxiously, with her whole desire written on her pale face, and was +answered at once, + +"You must make haste and get well," Bella said with a smile. "As soon as +you are able, I want to talk to you about business. You will have to +manage all the improvements I am going to make." + +"Me? But you don't mean to let us stay?" + +"Indeed I do." + +The poor woman tried to cover her eyes with her thin hand, but had not +strength. She whispered, "Thank God," as the heavy drops rolled from +under her quivering eyelids. + +"I am going away directly," Bella said, "because you ought to rest; but +I want you to understand first, that I have not the least intention of +disturbing you in your house. We have both paid dearly enough for our +connection. It shall rest now without any further dispute. I will come +again and see you. About money, it will be quite time enough to think +when you are better. Try to keep free from anxiety for these little +ones' sakes." + +She was still holding the baby, soothing it with a gentle rocking +motion; and so she moved round again from the bedside and stood by the +stove. The child seemed to be asleep, and, reluctant to disturb it, she +still delayed giving it up, though it was time to go away. The nurse had +lingered for a moment tending the mother; then she came and stood ready +to take the child. Both were looking down on the pale little face, when +they saw it suddenly change. All at once the eyes opened wide, the +muscles were drawn and contracted, a line of foam started out between +the lips. One violent convulsion passed over the limbs, then they fell +loose and nerveless; the eyes closed, the lips parted--the life, +scarcely twenty-four hours old, had passed away. + +So sudden, so strange was the event--the almost instantaneous gliding +from life to death--that Bella had not altered her position, or loosened +her clasp when the final change, so awful and yet so beautiful, settled +down upon the baby's face. Then she put it into the nurse's arms, and +they looked at one another. They dared not speak, for the mother would +have heard them, and their consultation how to tell her must needs be a +speechless one; but what consultation could have altered the fact, or +softened the awe and terror with which they bent over that little +lifeless form? Lucia came from the low chair where the two elder +children sat together, and where she had been talking softly to them; +she came to Bella's side, and saw the truth. It was but by a gesture +that her cry of horror could be repressed, but it was repressed, and for +a minute the three paused irresolute and tearful, wondering what to do? + +Then the nurse said softly, + +"She's got to know it, poor soul! It's best tell her at once," and +stepped to the bedside. + +But there was no need to tell anything. With that strange quick +intuition which so often saves the actual speaking of such tidings, the +mother seemed to see what had happened. + +"He's gone?" she said, with a weak quivering voice. "My baby!" And her +eyes seemed to devour the still little form which she had not strength +to put out her hand to touch. The kind woman laid down the child for a +moment where the mother's lips could touch its cold cheek. + +"Don't fret," she said, while tears rolled down her own face; "there's +three on 'em yet, as wants their mother to take care on 'em." + +She seemed to have touched with instinctive skill the right chord for +consolation. Mrs. Clarkson spoke again after a minute with a steadier +and calmer voice, + +"You'll lay him by me now?" she said. "It can't wake him out of his +sleep, and I'd like to see him till the last. Is Mrs. Morton there +still?" + +Bella came to her. + +"Did you see him go?" she asked. "I was very thankful to you before, but +I am more now, because you came just in time. Don't you think the little +ones that never spoke in this world will be able to speak up there?" + +"Yes, I think so," Bella answered, fancying that her mind began to +wander. + +"And so you see my man is sure to ask what we were all doing, and the +little one would be able to tell him how good you'd been to us." + +She stopped; tears flowed softly, but she was too weak for violent +grief; and so the two girls left her, after having given the nurse money +for present use, and learned what comforts were most needed. + +On their return they did not stop at all in Cacouna, but drove straight +to the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs was still there, and sent word to her +sister by Margery to dismiss the sleigh and come in, that they might +return home together. They found the two ladies sitting "conferring by +the parlour fire," and eager to hear the result of their visit to Beaver +Creek. Lucia saw that the narration must come from her; for Bella, worn +out by the painful excitement of the morning, was incapable of +describing what had so greatly moved her, and could scarcely bear even +to hear the baby's death spoken of as a thing not to be regretted. + +"Poor little creature!" Mrs. Bellairs said. "Even the mother by-and-by +may be glad it is gone." + +"Elise!" Bella cried impatiently, "how can you be so cruel? And you are +a mother yourself!" + +"You forget, dear, what a fate those children have; and yet, since you +feel so pitifully towards them, it certainly does not become me to be +less charitable;" and the kind-hearted woman wiped furtively the tears +of genuine compassion which she had been shedding over the sorrows of +the Clarksons, and never thought of defending herself from her sister's +blame; though, to tell the truth, she had not in her whole nature a +single spark of cruelty or uncharitableness, and that Bella knew +perfectly well. + +Lucia went on to mention the things really needed by the squatter's +family. Mrs. Costello turned to Bella, + +"Do you really mean," she asked, "to keep them on the farm after this +winter?" + +"Yes. I certainly shall not allow them to be turned out as long as they +like to stay. I am going to have the land cleared and put under +cultivation. I suppose it will be necessary to have a kind of foreman or +manager of some sort there; and it has occurred to me that Mrs. Clarkson +might take him as a lodger. But before that can be done, the house would +have to be enlarged and several alterations made. I must consult William +about it." + +Both Mrs. Costello and Mrs. Bellairs were surprised to hear the young +widow speaking with so much of her old spirit and decision. The fact was +that the consciousness that there was something to be done for others +had made Bella aware that, in spite of her aching heart, she was still +able to do what duties remained to her; and without hesitation, or, +indeed, any thought about the matter, she was prepared to take upon +herself the management of her own affairs, and to change her +brother-in-law's position from that of guardian, resumed since her +widowhood, to that of adviser only. In the very depths of her misery she +had passed her twenty-first birthday, so that now she would have had in +any case the right of acting for herself. It was the very time to which, +not many months ago, Mr. Bellairs had looked forward with some anxiety, +and which he had thought so well provided for by her marriage; now, in +the utter change which had come both to her circumstances and feelings, +there was little reason why even the most careful guardian should feel +any reluctance to resign his office. But since her widowhood she had so +visibly shrunk from all mention of her property, and especially of that +part of it which had been the cause of her husband's dispute with his +murderer, that her friends naturally wondered now to hear her speak of +the management of those very lands in a way which showed that the +subject had actually occupied her thoughts. + +"I promised Dr. Hardy," Mrs. Costello said, "that the care of providing +for the children should be mine. Indeed, I feel bound to do something. I +think until they are old enough to be of some use to their mother, it +would be well to give her a little allowance for their schooling and +clothes; but I shall be away. Will you manage this for me?" + +It was so arranged. Mrs. Costello was to leave a certain sum in Mrs. +Morton's hands, to be paid monthly to Mrs. Clarkson for the benefit of +her children; and, this being settled, the little party had time to turn +their thoughts to subjects of more personal interest. They would not +meet again until the Costellos returned from Moose Island, which would +probably not be for a week at least. The messenger who had carried to +Mr. Strafford the news of Christian's death had returned, and brought a +letter which only confirmed Mrs. Costello's plans--she and Lucia were to +be, for as long a time as they could spare, the guests of their old +friend, and Christian was to be laid in the burial ground where so many +of his own people already slept. + +At last the two sisters left the Cottage, and once more Mrs. Costello +and Lucia remained alone in the familiar room. How much seemed to have +happened since they were last alone here! and, through great suffering, +how much good seemed to have been wrought! The little home seemed +pleasanter than ever, and for a moment Mrs. Costello asked herself if it +was really necessary that they should leave it? But clearly, if not +_necessary_, it was best. It was best, probably, that Lucia and Maurice +should not meet again, and certainly that Lucia should be placed within +reach of her future guardians. But Mrs. Costello sighed over her plan. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mr. Bellairs came, according to his promise, and drove Mrs. Costello and +Lucia to Fairfield, where they were to take the boat for Moose Island. +It was a distance of about five miles; and as they glided along rapidly +and smoothly, Lucia remembered with a sigh that this was probably the +last sleigh drive of any length that she would have before leaving +Canada. Perhaps it was not right, considering what the object of their +present journey was, that she should be at liberty to have any such +thoughts; it might have been more decorous if she had been absorbed by +the grave and sombre ideas which the occasion demanded; but Lucia was at +heart too frank and natural to try to force upon herself the +affectation of a grief she did not feel. It had come into her heart, +while Christian was slowly wearing out the last days of his unhappy +life, to care for him as her father, to be deeply sorry for him, and to +desire to comfort him; but now that his sufferings were over, she +honestly thought that there was no further reason for grieving on his +account. She was sad, however, for very simple and childish reasons; and +this idea that it was her last sleigh drive actually brought tears into +her eyes. Everything was so lovely! The road along which they passed lay +like a broad white line between the dark woods and the river. The sun, +setting over the opposite shore, brought out millions of sparkling +points brighter than diamonds on the surface of the snow, and the +gorgeous colours of the sky, deeper and more vivid even than in summer, +filled her heart with an inexpressible and ever-changing delight. That +wonderful union of spotless purity and glorious colour seemed almost +supernatural--as if it needed but for men's eyes to be opened that they +might see plainly the city of "pure gold like unto clear glass" which +stood upon those many-hued foundations, and the forms with garments +white as snow which might come down and walk unsullied over the +white-robed earth. But to see all this loveliness for the last time! To +enjoy for the last time this luxury of nestling down among the sleigh +robes, and being carried silently and swiftly forward, with nothing to +disturb the dreamy, fanciful mood of the moment! She was actually +crying, letting large heavy tears drop quietly down upon her +furs--crying with the first premonitory attack of homesickness--when the +village came in sight, and she had to rouse herself and dry her eyes, +lest her mother should turn round and see her. + +By-and-by they turned down the road to the steamboat wharf, and found +themselves among a little group of people. The boats only stopped here +when they were signalled to do so; but to-night there happened to be +other passengers going, and Mr. Bellairs advised Mrs. Costello to remain +in the sleigh till the 'Reindeer,' which was just in sight, should +arrive. They sat still, accordingly, while he stood beside them talking; +and when the boat had stopped at the landing, they went on board and +straight down to the ladies' cabin. It was by this time growing dusk; in +the low cabin, with its small windows, there was but a faint glimmer of +daylight remaining, and as soon as the boat was again under way, the +hanging lamps were lighted and people who had till then lingered on deck +began to come down by twos and threes. Mrs. Costello and Lucia took +possession of a sofa; their voyage was to end about ten o'clock, and for +the few hours it would last they were disposed to keep quiet and avoid +observation. It happened that the number of passengers was large, the +last boat having been detained at some of the Lake ports, and the +continuance of navigation at that time of year being so uncertain; and +the greater part of the women on board having come from places much +further west than Cacouna, formed a crowd of strangers, among whom two +veiled and muffled figures easily passed unnoticed. + +The cabin had grown very quiet, and the dull monotonous noise of the +paddles had lulled Lucia almost to sleep, when she was startled by the +touch of her mother's hand upon her arm. + +"It is very nearly time we were there," Mrs. Costello said. "If it is a +fine night we ought to be able to see the island." + +They drew their cloaks closely round them and went up on deck. The night +was brilliantly clear and starlight, though there was no moon, and +already the lights of the small American town of Claremont, where they +were to land, were in sight, with their bright reflection shining in the +river below them. To the left a large dark mass seemed to lie upon the +water, and to that Mrs. Costello's eyes turned. + +"There is the island," she said in a low voice. "Your birthplace, Lucia, +and my first Canadian home." + +But in vain Lucia strained her eyes to distinguish the size or form of +the land. The end of the island which they were approaching was still +thickly wooded, and the drooping branches added still more vagueness to +the outline. Only as they came nearer a small clearing was dimly +distinguishable, where a kind of promontory ran out into the river, and +on the point of land a small white house. + +Mrs. Costello laid her hand upon Lucia's. + +"Look!" she said, "can you see that space where the house stands? What a +lonely place it looks! I wonder how I lived there for six years. I can +see even the place where the canoe used to lie on the beach. There is +one there now!" She stood straining her eyes to watch the scene once so +familiar, until the steamer, drawing towards the landing-place, +completely hid it from her. Then the lights on shore flashed out more +brightly close at hand, and the figures of men waiting on the wharf +could be distinguished. Just as the cable was thrown on shore a boat +came flying across the river from the island. It drew up to the wharf, +and next moment Mr. Strafford was seen coming through the little crowd +to receive his visitors. They landed immediately, and he led them to his +boat. + +"You remember this crossing?" he said to Mrs. Costello; "it was by this +way that you left the island." + +"With my baby in my arms. Yes; I am not likely to forget it." + +They took their places in the boat, where an Indian boy was waiting. Mr. +Strafford took an oar, and they glided out of the light and noise of the +shore into the starry darkness. + +Very few words passed as they crossed the river. Mrs. Costello's mind +was full of thoughts of her life here, and Lucia looked forward with +wondering curiosity to the sight of an Indian settlement. She was +conscious, too, that the feeling of terror and dislike, which for so +many years of her life had been always awakened by the sight of one of +her father's people, was not even now altogether extinguished. Since she +had known her own origin she had tried to get rid of this prejudice more +earnestly than before, but the habit was so strong that she had not yet +quite mastered it. She sat and watched the shadowy outline of the Indian +boy's figure in the boat, and lectured herself a little on the folly and +even wickedness of her sensations. + +They had to pass round the lower end of the island, where the village +lay, in order to reach Mr. Strafford's house; but the lights were all +extinguished, and the inhabitants already asleep. They coasted along, +passing a little wooden pier, and some fishing-boats and canoes lying +moored beside the beach, and at last came to a boarded landing-place +with a small boat-house at one end. Here they stopped, and Mr. Strafford +bidding his boy run up to the door and knock, assisted the strangers to +land. They were scarcely out of the boat when a bright gleam of +lamplight flashing from the open door showed them a sloping path, up +which they went, and found themselves in a bright warm room, all glowing +with lamplight and firelight. A very neat little old woman in a +Quaker-like cap and dress was ready to welcome them, and in front of +the great blazing fire a table stood ready for supper. The old woman Mr. +Strafford introduced as his housekeeper, Mrs. Hall, and Mrs. Costello +recognized her as her own successor in the charge of that school for +Indian women and girls of which she had told Lucia. + +The room in which supper was laid, and into which the outer door opened, +was large and square. At each end two smaller ones opened off it--on one +side Mr. Strafford's study and bedroom, at the other Mrs. Hall's room +and the one which had been prepared for the guests. Here also a fire +burned brightly on the hearth, shining on the white walls and on the bed +where, years ago, Mrs. Costello had watched her baby through its first +illness. She sat down for a moment to recall that time, and to recognize +bit by bit the familiar aspect of the place; then she made haste to lay +aside her wrappings and get ready for supper. + +It was quite ready by this time--the most luxurious meal Mrs. Hall's +resources could provide. There was coffee--not to be praised in itself, +but hot, and accompanied by an abundance of cream. There were venison +steaks, and a great pile of buckwheat cakes that moment taken from the +fire, with a glass dish of clear golden maple syrup placed beside them, +and expressly intended for Lucia's benefit. Altogether not a meal to be +despised. + +When supper was over, and Mrs. Hall had left them, Mr. Strafford began +to ask Mrs. Costello for particulars of the arrangements made for the +removal of Christian's remains, and when they would probably arrive at +the island. + +Mr. Bellairs had had some difficulty, she told him, in finding means of +transport, but the matter had been finally settled by his engaging a +sailing-boat belonging to a fisherman. The coffin had been put on board +early in the morning, and the boat started at once. It ought, therefore, +to reach the island early to-morrow. + +"All here is ready," Mr. Strafford said. "I suppose three o'clock in the +afternoon will do to fix for the funeral; the boat is sure to be here +long before that." + +"Oh! yes, long before. Do the people know?" + +"Yes, I suppose most of them do. There are not very many who remember +you, but Mary Wanita will be here in the morning to see you. Shall you +dislike it?" + +"On the contrary, I shall be very glad. Mary was a true friend." + +They talked a little longer, sitting round the fire, when the great logs +began to break through in the middle and fall down on the hearth outside +the andirons, sending up clouds of sparks as they were put back into the +fire. The night was very still; and in the pauses of their talk they +could hear the mournful wash of the river as its steady current pressed +against the landing-place below. To the two elder people, who said +nothing to each other of their fancy, another presence, shadowy and +silent, seemed to take its place among them at the fireside--a fair, +serene presence, matronly and gracious, which had passed away from human +eyes years ago. And they paused and thought of her as she had been that +winter night when she took the fugitive mother and child into her kindly +home, and gave them all her womanly pity and help. What lonely years had +passed here since then! + +By some instinctive sympathy their eyes met, and each knew what the +other's thoughts had been. Mr. Strafford rose. + +"To-morrow," he said, "we shall have time for a long chat; to-night you +must be tired. I hope Mrs. Hall has done what she could to make you +comfortable." + +There could be no doubt about that. For two or three days nothing had +occupied the good woman's thoughts but this strange and wonderful +arrival of strangers--of ladies, too--at the house where so few +strangers ever came; and she had exerted all her backwoods' ingenuity to +repair what deficiency of comfort there might be. + +They were in no humour either to be critical; and Lucia was soon asleep, +while her mother lay listening to the sound of the river, and thinking +of the many things which this very room brought so freshly to her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +It was late when Mrs. Costello fell asleep, and very early when she +woke, startled out of her dreams by a long wailing sound. She listened, +and in the dark winter morning could hear the wind sweeping through the +pines and round the house with loud intermittent gusts, like moans and +outcries of pain. The moments of silence between these gusts had +something weird and awful, and she could not resist the desire to get up +and look out at the weather. But just as she drew aside the blind, a +cloud of frozen snow was dashed against the glass, rattling sharply, +while the wind again passed on with its ominous wail. Nothing whatever +could be seen; the pale dim dawn was veiled by mist and snow, and each +time the icy particles were driven against the window, they left behind +them a thicker curtain of frost. Mrs. Costello went shivering back to +bed, but she did not sleep again. She began to consider anxiously how +far the boat that was carrying her dead could have come before the storm +commenced. At midnight it had been quite calm, probably indeed till four +or five o'clock; and if the sailors had foreseen the change, they would +most likely have made all possible speed. If they did so, the wind and +current both being in their favour, they ought to be here now; but if, +as was quite equally likely, they had stopped last night at some port, +would they venture out in this storm? + +She began to regret that she had not caused the body to be sent by land, +so as to have only to cross the narrow current which divided the island +from the Canadian shore. She had decided against this plan on account of +the greater distance and the difficulty of transport, but now these +seemed less formidable than the uncertainty and possible danger of the +route she had chosen. + +She was glad when Lucia awoke, and she could speak of her uneasiness. By +this time the wind had grown more violent, and blew continuously, and +the rattling of snow like frozen dust against the window seemed never +to cease. A dim daylight had begun to creep into the room, but it was +even colder and more cheerless than the darkness. Presently a young +Indian girl, whom Mrs. Hall had trained for service, came softly into +the room and began to coax the still burning embers of the fire into a +blaze. She went about her work with a silent deftness which would have +done credit to the best of housemaids, and yet in all her motions there +was something of that free natural grace which belongs to her people. +When she had done, and was standing for a moment to see if the fire +'drew' properly, Mrs. Costello spoke to her. She understood no English, +however, or at least she understood none addressed to her by a strange +voice, and said so in her own soft musical language. When the question +was repeated in Ojibway, however, her face brightened, and she was +perfectly ready to answer all Mrs. Costello chose to ask. + +She said the weather had only changed towards six o'clock. No boat, +however, had arrived, but it might be on the other side of the island, +where the passage was broader and safer than on this, the Canadian +side. + +As soon as she was gone the two women, anxious and uneasy, rose and +dressed that they might be ready. Ready for what they scarcely knew; but +they had the feeling common enough when nothing can possibly be done, +that it would be a comfort to be prepared to do something. + +They found Mrs. Hall superintending the laying of the breakfast-table, +and Mr. Strafford hearing their voices came out of his study and joined +them. He had not the least inclination to sympathise with the fears in +which Mrs. Costello was a little disposed to indulge, with regard to the +safety of the boat; but he confessed a doubt as to its arrival before +the hour named, or indeed that day at all. This uncertainty threw a +shadow over the whole party. It was impossible to avoid making pauses in +their conversation whenever the wind seemed either to rise more +fiercely, or to be lulled into a momentary calm; and after breakfast was +over, and Mrs. Hall in cloak and hood had started for her school, they +began to make frequent journeys to the windows, and interrupt their talk +to say to each other, + +"There is less drift, I think." + +"Yes; certainly it is clearer. I can see the water." Or, + +"The wind is surely higher than ever, and it will be against them." + +"On the contrary, it is almost directly favourable, but the question is +whether they would venture out at all in such a storm." + +At last, however, towards twelve o'clock the wind did unmistakably begin +to abate. Mr. Strafford had been out, and on his return affirmed that +the storm was almost over. It might return again towards night, but if +the boatmen knew their business, they should be able to take advantage +of the next few hours and reach the island while the calm lasted. + +"There is no sign of their arrival at present then?" Mrs. Costello asked +anxiously. + +"I have not been round the island," Mr. Strafford answered. "No one +seems to have seen anything of a boat at all. However, they would need +to be close in shore to be distinguishable through the drift." + +"But it seems that there is very little chance of their being here by +three o'clock. Would not it be better to decide that in any case the +funeral will not be till to-morrow?" + +"I think it would. I intend going by-and-by up the island, and will +take care to arrange that first, and also about the reception of the +boat when it does arrive." + +Mrs. Costello looked up anxiously. + +"Are you going quite to the other end of the island?" she asked. + +"Yes; to your old house. The woman who lives there is very ill, and, you +know, I am doctor and parson both in one." + +"Will you take me with you?" + +"You! Impossible! You would be frozen to death." + +"It would not hurt me; and I confess I have so little control of myself +to-day that sitting here quietly by the fire is just the hardest thing I +could have to do." + +Mr. Strafford examined her face, and perceived that she had really grown +painfully nervous and excited. He turned to Lucia. + +"What do you think?" he asked. "Ought I to say yes or no?" + +"Say yes, please, and let me go too." + +"But, my dear friends, what good can you possibly do? If the drift and +mist clear away, you may be able to see a little way up the river, but +your doing so will not bring the boat one bit faster." + +"That is true; but it may end our uncertainty a little sooner." + +"I doubt even that. One cannot calculate on having more than an hour or +two of clear daylight between the subsiding of the storm and sunset; and +even if it were possible for you to stand watching all that time, I do +not believe the boat would come while there was daylight enough to see +it." + +"Who is the sick woman? Did I ever know her?" + +"No; she came to the island after you left." + +"Don't you think she would let us sit for a while in her outer room? It +has a window looking right up the river, and she, I suppose, is in the +inner one, so that we need not disturb her." + +"You seem to have decided," Mr. Strafford said, smiling, "so I give up. +Yes, poor Martha has not been out of the inner room for weeks, and you +can sit by the window you speak of as long as you please. I am sure you +will be welcome; only, remember I do not approve of your going at all." + +However, they remained obstinate. As soon as dinner was over they +wrapped themselves warmly, and started with Mr. Strafford for the house +on the promontory. Mrs. Costello felt her heart beat faster and faster +as they followed the well-remembered paths, which, now that a veil of +snow covered all the improvements made under Mr. Strafford's teaching, +seemed quite unchanged since she traversed them last. She recalled the +sensations of that night, the bitter cold, and clear starlight round +her, and the tumult of fear, anger, and hope within. To-day what a +difference! Then she was flying from her husband's tyranny, now she was +going to meet his corpse, and to receive it with tenderness and honour. +Her heart was too full for her to speak. Her companions guessed it, and +left her in peace. + +Mr. Strafford had a thousand things to explain and describe to Lucia. +The island was his kingdom; its prosperity his own work; and it was one +of his greatest pleasures to find a stranger who was interested in all +he could tell him. This young girl, too, whom he had known from her +birth, whom he had seen so many times in his wife's arms, who had been +the baby-playfellow of his daughter, had a claim, stronger than she +herself could understand, on the solitary and childless man. He would +have liked to keep her with him always, and see her devote her life, as +he had devoted his, to the cause of her father's people. Her frank and +yet modest manner, joined to what he knew of her conduct lately, pleased +and satisfied him. He took a certain speculative delight in examining +her character, and deciding that, after all, the union of the Indian and +Anglo-Saxon races would be favourable to both. Talking, therefore, in +the most friendly humour with each other, they pursued their way through +the loose and uneven snow, sometimes stumbling into a deep drift, +sometimes crossing a space swept almost bare by the wind. Mrs. Costello +leaned on her old friend's arm. Scarcely half the distance was passed +when she began to be conscious of a feeling of exhaustion from cold and +fatigue, but her determination to go on sustained her; she kept her veil +closely over her face that the others might not see her paleness, and +exerted all her energies to overcome her fatigue. At length they +approached the shore. The sky had lightened considerably, and they could +see some distance up the river. Both sky and water were of a leaden +dulness; only the effects of the morning storm could be seen in the +great waves, tipped with foam, which still rolled sullenly upon the +beach. But there was no sail in sight. A small canoe, which was +labouring to make its way from the island to the American shore, was the +only speck upon the broad, swift-flowing stream; and the party, after +pausing for a moment to make quite certain that it was so, turned +towards the house on the point, where they meant to keep their watch. + +They had been seen from within; and as they came to the gate of the +small enclosure in front, a little girl opened the door to admit them. +They passed immediately into the room where, on the evening of her +flight, Mrs. Costello had found Christian and his companions. Its aspect +was very little changed. The house and furniture, such as it was, had +been sold years ago to its present occupants; Mr. Strafford had rescued +such small articles as the fugitive wife's desk, workbox, and various +trifles which had been in her possession before her marriage, but other +things remained just as they had been. Two children, girls of ten and +twelve, were the only occupants of the room, and they cast curious +glances at the two ladies who followed the clergyman into their domains. + +He spoke to them in Ojibway, asking first for their mother, and then +why the younger sister was not at school? + +"It was so stormy this morning," the elder answered. "She is going this +afternoon." + +"It is quite time she was gone, then. These ladies will stay with you, +Sunflower, while I go in to see your mother. Tell her I am here." + +"Sunflower"--always thus called instead of by her baptismal name of +Julia--obeyed; and while she was away, Mr. Strafford placed a chair for +Mrs. Costello in front of a window which commanded the long reach of the +river towards Cacouna. She sat down, and commenced her watch, which a +glance at the American clock hanging on the wall told her would not be a +very long one. + +The younger girl had wrapped herself in a great shawl, and hurried off +to school; the elder one was occupied at the further end of the room, +making bread of Indian meal, and baking it in thin cakes upon the stove. +Mr. Strafford was with the invalid, and the mother and daughter sat +silently at the window and watched. The afternoon advanced. The American +clock struck one quarter after another. It was already half-past four. +Mr. Strafford came back; but, seeing the absorbed attitude of Mrs. +Costello, he would not disturb her, and the silence continued. At last +she moved. She had been looking, with intense eagerness, at one point +far away in the distance. She turned round to Mr. Strafford. + +"Look!" she said; "it _is_ a sail." + +He rose, and looked as she pointed. + +"I see nothing," he answered. + +"Lucia!" she said impatiently, "can't you see it?" + +But Lucia shook her head. She had fancied several times already that she +saw something. + +Mrs. Costello said no more just then. A minute or two afterwards, +however, she spoke still more positively. + +"It is a boat with two sails. It is coming down quickly now. They must +have waited for the storm to be over." + +Next moment the others saw something faintly marked against the horizon. +It _was_ a sail. + +But Mrs. Costello either was gifted with longer sight, or her excitement +sharpened her faculties. She declared that it was certainly the expected +boat; it was one, she knew well, and could recognize distinctly. + +They began to speculate as to the time of its arrival; and while they +spoke, still watching eagerly, they did not notice how the sky darkened. +The horizon still remained light; it even grew brighter; but the +brightness was only a line, surrounded with a silvery border; the black +cloud spread out overhead. By-and-by the wind began to rise again in +long, wailing blasts, as it had done that morning. The edges of the +cloud seemed to be torn into long, jagged fringes, and there fell sharp, +momentary showers of snow and sleet, hissing as they touched the water. +The boat came on fast now; but at intervals it was hidden; once, when a +denser obstacle than usual of rain and drift and frosty mist had come +between it and the land, there appeared in the lull that followed +another object much further away, but moving down the river also. It was +a large steamer coming down from the lakes, and hurrying on before the +storm. + +Again the distance was hidden. Again, after a longer interval, the two +boats were seen--the small one tacking from side to side, using every +contrivance to hasten its course, and reach the port; the other holding +steadily and swiftly on its way. + +But as the wind increased there came with it a dense fog. Gradually it +settled down over the river and then the wind sank, blowing only, as at +first, in single gusts, which wailed horribly round the house and +through the trees about it. There was nothing to see now, but still the +three kept their places at the window, and hoped the fog might rise if +but for a moment, and show them where the boat was. + +Sometimes, indeed, the fog did vary in intensity. A current of wind +seemed to sweep through it, and then they could distinguish the lights +which the steamer was now burning at the mast head, and guess how far +distant that still was. But these lights seemed at last to be almost +close at hand; and the boat, which had been at first so much before the +steamer, ought to be quite near also. It might be even now passing the +place where they were, on its way to the village at the further end of +the island. + +Mr. Strafford reminded Mrs. Costello of this, and proposed that they +should start on their return. + +"If we delay much longer," he said, "it will be quite dark, and besides, +the paths are getting every moment more choked up." + +She rose instantly. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, "I ought to have thought;" but still, as +she fastened her cloak, she continued to keep her eyes fixed upon the +veil of fog which hung between her and the river. + +Mr. Strafford and Lucia both stopped to say a few words to Sunflower, +who was still busy with her cakes, but Mrs. Costello never ceased to +look out until she was obliged to follow the others from the house. The +air was bitterly cold; and, hastened by storm and mist, the night was +coming on fast. They paused for a moment outside the wicket; and Mrs. +Costello, looking at Mr. Strafford with a consciousness that her wish +was foolish and unreasonable, said-- + +"I should like to go down quite to the shore, just for a moment, to try +if I can see anything." + +He turned instantly and walked with her to the very extremity of the +little point, Lucia following. + +They stood exactly on the spot where she had landed as a bride, and +looked out into the darkness. Suddenly she grasped Mr. Strafford's arm. + +"Listen!" she said, "there are oars close by." + +"Impossible," he answered. "See, the steamer's lights are just there +opposite us. It must be turning round to go into Claremont." + +But she bent her head forward listening. For even through the beat of +the paddles, which she could now distinguish plainly, it still seemed +that she heard the sound of oars, and she thought, + +"They have given up trying to use their sails, and taken to rowing." + +Suddenly a current of wind passing along the surface of the water lifted +the fog. Just to their right, towering high in the air and holding a +swift, steady course, came the steamer; but in front of it, scarcely a +dozen yards from its huge bulk, lay the little boat. In that moment, as +the fog rose and showed the danger, a single cry of terror burst from +the boatmen and from those on shore. Instantly afterwards a shout was +heard on board the steamer, and the engines were reversed; but the space +was awfully small, and the monster, carried by the strong current, bore +on still. Lucia hid her face; Mrs. Costello, still leaning forward, +tightened her grasp on the arm that supported her. Mr. Strafford +unconsciously spoke aloud, + +"In the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, Good Lord deliver +us." + +And as he spoke the crash came. Next moment the boat had disappeared, +and the steamer still swept on. + +Neither of the three on shore saw more than this. At the moment when +the boat was struck and sunk, Mr. Strafford felt Mrs. Costello's clasp +loosen on his arm. He turned just in time to save her from falling, and +carried her back into the house in one of those fainting fits which so +much alarmed Lucia. It did not, however, last long; and when she had a +little recovered, he left her and went out again. + +The fog had once more settled down, but he could distinguish the many +lights which now gleamed from the deck and from the windows of the +steamer which still lay where it had been stopped. Voices were audible, +too, and he contrived to make out that boats had been let down to search +for the fisherman and his companions. This was all that could be learned +here, and he became anxious to reach home, that he might himself cross +to Claremont and learn what was known there. + +He went back to the house, therefore, and found Mrs. Costello quite +determined, in spite of her weakness, to start at once on their walk +back. With painful forebodings and regrets, therefore, they left the +promontory, and walked as fast as they were able towards the village. + +Little was said on the way; but as soon as they were near his house, Mr. +Strafford told his companions of his intention. Neither could find +anything to say against it; but Mrs. Costello looked anxiously at him +while he explained that he meant to take a good boatman with him and +burn a bright light. Then she held out her hand to him to express the +thanks she had no words for. + +They found Mrs. Hall unhappy at their absence, and ready to do +everything possible for their comfort; but it was not until she had seen +Mr. Strafford push off from the landing-place that Mrs. Costello could +be induced to lie down and rest. + +Then there was nothing more to be done, and she submitted readily; and +so great was her exhaustion that she almost instantly fell asleep. Lucia +and Mrs. Hall sat watching her, and two hours passed before she woke. + +At last, she moved, and Lucia was glad to see that her face was less +pale than when she lay down, and that she looked up at her with a smile. + +"Is Mr. Strafford come back?" she said. "He will bring us good news, I +think." + +"He has not come yet," Lucia said; but almost as she spoke, footsteps +were heard outside. Mrs. Hall hurried to open the door, and Mr. +Strafford came in. + +"They are safe?" Mrs. Costello asked. + +"Yes; all three. There was the man and two boys--one of them his son. +The steamer's boat picked up the boys almost immediately. The man's arm +is broken; and he was carried a little way down the stream before they +found him." + +"Are they at Claremont?" + +"Yes. They will go back home by the steamer to-morrow, and you will hear +more of them when you return to Cacouna." + +"And the boat?" + +"No one knows anything of that. In the darkness and confusion it must +have floated away with the current." + +There was another question to ask, but she stopped, scarcely knowing how +to ask it. Mr. Strafford understood her silence. + +"The man told me," he said, "that the coffin was on deck, and that when +the steamer struck them the boat capsized. He himself clung to the side +for a moment when it was upside down in the water, so that everything on +board, which was not secured, must have gone to the bottom." + +So it was. Standing beside the home of her married life, she had +witnessed her husband's burial. After his stormy life he was not to +rest in quiet consecrated ground; but to lie where the current of his +native river washed over him continually and kept him in perpetual +oblivion. It was better so. No angry feelings had followed him to his +death; but having been freely forgiven, it was well that he should leave +no memorial behind him--not even a grave--but pass away and be +forgotten. When all was over, Mrs. Costello felt this. For Lucia's sake, +it was well--let the dead go now, and make way for the living. + + + END OF VOL. II. + + + + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, Volume 2, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 2 *** + +***** This file should be named 18122-8.txt or 18122-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/2/18122/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship 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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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 2 + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill + +Release Date: April 5, 2006 [EBook #18122] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 2 *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship 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. II.</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> + + +<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> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<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>Mrs. Costello had felt it a kind of reprieve when she heard from Mr. +Strafford that they might delay their journey safely for a month. The +sober middle age which had come upon her before its time, as her life +rolled on out of the anguish and tumult of the past, made home and +quietness the most desirable things on earth to her, and her health and +spirits, neither yet absolutely broken, but both strained almost to the +extent of their endurance, unfitted her for the changes and excitements +of long travel. So she clung to the idea of delay with an unacknowledged +hope that some cause might deliver them from their present terrors, and +yet suffer them to remain at Cacouna.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the meantime all went on outwardly as usual. The duties and +courtesies of every-day life had to be kept up,—the more carefully +because it was not desirable to attract attention. Besides, Mrs. +Costello felt that an even flow of occupation was the best thing for +Lucia, whom she watched, with the keenest and tenderest solicitude, +passing through the shadow of that darkness which she herself knew so +well. Doctor Morton brought his wife home most opportunely for her +wishes. A variety of such small dissipations as Cacouna could produce, +naturally celebrated the event; and Lucia as principal bridesmaid at the +wedding could not, if she would, have shut herself out from them. She +had, indeed, dreaded the first meeting with Bella, but it passed off +without embarrassment. To all appearance Mrs. Morton had lost either the +sharpness of observation or the readiness of tongue that had formerly +belonged to her, for the change which Lucia felt in herself was allowed +to remain unremarked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs had long ago got over her displeasure with Lucia. She had +watched her narrowly at the time of Percy's leaving, and became +satisfied that there was some trouble of a sterner kind than regret for +him now weighing heavily upon her heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although Mrs. Bellairs told her sister of the intended journey of Mrs. +Costello and Lucia, the preparations for that journey were being made +with as little stir as possible, and except herself, her husband, and +Mr. Leigh, few persons dreamed of such an improbable event. Bella even +received a hint to speak of it to no one but her husband, for Mrs. +Costello was anxious to avoid gossip, and had taken much thought how to +attain the <i>juste milieu</i> between secrecy and publicity. In the meantime +there was much to be done in prospect of a long, an indefinitely long, +absence, and the needful exertion both of mind and body was good for +Lucia. Under no circumstances, perhaps, could she have sat quietly down +to bewail her misfortunes, or have allowed herself to sink under them, +but, as it was, there was no temptation to indolent indulgence of any +kind. Bitter hours came still—came especially with the silence and +darkness of night, when her thoughts would go back to the sweet days of +the past summer and linger over them, till some word, or look, or +trifling incident coming to her memory more distinctly, would bring with +it the sudden recollection of the barren, dreary present,—of the +irreparable loss.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<p>In all her thoughts of Percy there was comfort. He had loved her +honestly and sincerely, and if his nature was really lower than her own, +she was not likely to guess it. She had acted, in dismissing him, on a +kind of distrust, she would have said, of human nature; more truly, of +him; but even this distrust was so vague and so disguised that it never +shadowed his character in her eyes. So, though she had parted from him, +she took comfort in the thought of his love, and kept it in her heart to +save herself from the overwhelming sense of degradation, which took +possession of her in remembering why she had sent him away from her.</p> + +<p>It was this feeling which, in spite of her courage and her pride, had +brought to her face that look of real trouble of which Mrs. Bellairs had +spoken. It was a look of which she was herself entirely unconscious, +more like the effect of years of care, than like that of a sudden +sorrow. With this change of expression on her face, and sobered, but +cheerful and capable as ever in her ways and doings, Lucia made her +preparations for leaving the place which was so dear and familiar to +her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello's spirits had risen since their plans were settled. The +burden which was new to Lucia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> had been her companion for years, and, +except when the actual terror of falling once again into her husband's +hands was upon her, she had come to bear it with resignation and +patience. She had, of late years, endured far more on her child's +account than on her own; and to find that Lucia met her share of +suffering with such steady courage, and still had the same tender and +clinging love for herself, was an inexpressible relief. She had faith in +the words she had said on the night when the story of her life had been +told, she believed that a better happiness might yet come to that +beloved child than the one she had lost. So she lived in greater peace +than she had done for years before.</p> + +<p>But her greatest anxiety at this moment regarded Mr. Leigh and Maurice. +She had waited for news of Maurice's arrival in England and reception by +his grandfather, before writing to him, as she had promised to do. For +she wished him to be able to decide, on receiving her letter, what was +the best plan for Mr. Leigh's comfort, in case he should himself be +detained in Norfolk. The accounts which the first mail brought showed +plainly that this would be the case. Mr. Beresford had immediately taken +a fancy to his grandson, and would scarcely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> spare him out of his sight. +Mrs. Costello, therefore, wrote to Maurice, telling him that the time +she had half anticipated had really arrived, and that she and Lucia were +about to leave Canada. At the same time she had a long conversation with +Mr. Leigh, describing to him more of her circumstances and plans than +she wished any other person to know, and expressing the regret she felt +at leaving him in his solitude. A question, indeed, arose whether it +would not be better for him to leave his large solitary house, and +remove into the town, but this was soon decided in the negative. He +would remain where he was for the present. Maurice might yet return to +Canada; if not, possibly next year he might himself go to England. One +circumstance made Mrs. Costello and Lucia more inclined to favour this +plan—the old man's health had certainly improved. Whether it was the +link to his earlier and happier life, which had been furnished by the +late relenting of his wife's father, or from some other cause, he seemed +to have laid aside much of his infirmity, and to have returned from his +premature old age to something like vigour.</p> + +<p>A fortnight yet remained before the cottage was to be deserted, when +Doctor Morton and his wife<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> returned home. The gossip of the +neighbourhood which, as was inevitable, had been for a little while busy +with Mr. Percy and Lucia, was turned into another channel by their +coming, and people again occupied themselves with the bride. Lucia was +obliged to visit her friend, and to join the parties given on the +occasion, and so day after day slipped by, and the surface of affairs +seemed so unchanged that, but for one or two absent faces, it would have +been difficult to believe in all that had happened lately.</p> + +<p>But, of course, it did at last become known that Mrs. Costello was going +away. She and Lucia both spoke of it lightly, as an ordinary occurrence +enough; but it was so unlike their usual habits, that each person who +heard the news instantly set himself or herself to guess a reason, and, +connecting it with the loss of Lucia's gay spirits, most persons came +naturally to one conclusion.</p> + +<p>It did not matter whether they said, "Poor Lucia!" with the +half-contemptuous pity people give to what they call "a disappointment," +or "What else could she expect?" "I told you so!" or any other of the +speeches in which we express our delight in a neighbour's +misfortunes—every way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> of alluding to the subject was equally +irritating to Mrs. Bellairs, who heard of it constantly, and tried in +vain to stop the tongues of her acquaintance. She could not do it; and +what she feared most, soon happened. Lucia came, in some way, to be +aware of what was going on, and this last pain, though so much lighter +than those she had already borne, seemed to break down all her pride at +once. In her own room that night she sat, hour after hour, in forlorn +wretchedness—her own familiar friends, the companions of her whole +life, were making her misery the subject of their careless gossip. They +knew nothing of the real wound which she had suffered, but they were +quite ready to inflict another; and the feeling of loneliness and +desertion which filled her heart at the thought was more bitter than all +that had gone before. She remembered Maurice, and wondered drearily +whether he too would have misjudged her; but for the moment even her +faith in him was shaken, and she turned from her thoughts of him without +comfort.</p> + +<p>But this mood was too unnatural to last long. Before morning her courage +had returned, and her strong impulse and desire was to show how little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +she felt the very sting which was really torturing her. She stood long +before her glass that morning. The face which had grown hateful to +herself was still beautiful to others. She studied it in every line. She +wanted to see what there could be in it to give people the idea of +love-sickness. She wanted to force back into it the old light and +gaiety. Impossible! With a shudder she covered it with her hands. Never +again could she be a child. She had passed through the storm, and must +bear its traces henceforward. But, at least, it had been the thunderbolt +of heaven, and not the hand of man, which had wounded her. Her very +sorrow was sacred. She lifted up her head again, and saw that there was +a calm upon her face, which was better than pride. Instinctively she +knew that none but idiots could look at her with contempt, or the pity +which is so near it; and she went out into her little world again, sad +at heart, but steadfast and at peace. So the days passed on, and grew +into weeks, and the time for their leaving Cacouna came very near. It +had been delayed more than a week beyond the month on which Mrs. +Costello had first counted for security; but on the very eve of their +departure she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> overcome her anxiety, and was secretly glad to make +the most of every little excuse for lingering yet another and another +day at the cottage.</p> + +<p>It was now Monday evening, and on Wednesday they were to start. A letter +from Maurice had arrived that morning—the first which he had written +after receiving news from home, and it contained an enclosure to Mrs. +Costello, which Lucia wondered her mother did not show her. But she +would have wondered more, perhaps, if she had known why, in spite of the +easily-read wistfulness in her glance, that note was so carefully +withheld from her. It alluded, in fact, too plainly to the conversation +in which, for the first time, Maurice had, just before going away, +spoken to Mrs. Costello of herself and his affection for her. He said +now, "My father has sent me an account of Miss Latour's wedding, which +he said he made Lucia describe to him for my benefit. But I have a +curiosity to hear more about it, or rather about her. To tell the truth, +I am longing for a letter from you, not only to bring me news of my +father, but to satisfy me that all my hopes are not being built upon an +impossibility. Is Percy still at Cacouna? Don't laugh at me. My +occupations here leave me plenty of time to think of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> you all, and I +depend upon you not to let me be left quite in the dark on the subject +to which I cannot help giving most of my thoughts."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled to herself as she read; but she put off Lucia's +questioning with a very unfaithful summary of the contents of the note. +It was certainly strange how much vague comfort she took in the +knowledge of Maurice's love for her child. It might have seemed that the +same causes which had parted Lucia from Percy, and which she had said +would part her from the whole world, would be just as powerful here; but +the mother had at the bottom of her heart a kind of child-like +confidence that somehow, some time, all must come right, and in the +meantime she loved Maurice heartily, and wished for this happy +consummation almost as much for his sake as for her daughter's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + + +<p>There was a good deal of difference in the aspect of the country above +and below Cacouna. Below it the river bank was high; and cultivated and +fertile lands stretched back for a mile or two, till they were bordered +and shut in by the forest. Above, the bank was low. Just beyond the town +lay the swamp, which brought ague to the Parsonage and its neighbours. +On the further side of this was the steam sawmill, and a few shanties +occupied by workmen; and higher still, a road (called the Lake Shore +Road, because, after a few miles, it joined and ran along the side of +the lake) wound its way over a sandy plain, studded with clumps and +knots of scattered trees or brushwood. Rough, stubbly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> grass covered a +good deal of the sand, but here and there the wind had swept it up into +great piles round some obstacle that broke the level, and on these +sand-hills wild vines grew luxuriantly, covering them in many places +with thick and graceful foliage, and small purple clusters of grapes. +There were pools, too, in some places, where water-lilies had managed to +plant themselves, and where colonies of mud-turtles lived undisturbed; +and there were shady places by the sides of the pools, where the brown +pitcher-plant held its cups of clear water, and the ghost-flower +glimmered spectrally among the dead leaves of last year. But the plain +generally was hot and sunny in summer, and very dreary in winter; for +the larger trees which grew upon it were oaks, and when they were bare +of foliage, and the sand-hills and the pools had a deep covering of +snow, the wind swept icily cold over its wide space. In September the +oaks were still in leaf, and the grass green, and, though they were but +stunted in size and coarse in texture, both were pleasant to look at. +The sunshine was no longer hot, but it was serenely bright, and there +was as lovely a blue overhead as if the equinox were months away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>A light waggon came winding in and out with the turnings of the +road—now crossing a wooden bridge, now passing through the shadows of a +dozen or more oaks which grew close together. Sometimes, when the ground +was clear, the waggon went straight through one of these groups. +Sometimes it turned aside, to avoid the thick brushwood underneath. The +"waggon," which was neither more nor less than a large tray placed upon +four wheels, and having a seat for two people, was occupied by two young +men, Harry Scott and George Anderson. They were coming down from their +homes, two farms which lay close together some little distance up the +lake, and were going first to the sawmill and then to the town. But they +were in no particular hurry, and the afternoon was pleasant, so they let +their horse take his own time, and came jogging over the sand at a most +leisurely pace.</p> + +<p>They had passed that very piece of land which had given Dr. Morton so +much trouble lately; it was natural enough, therefore, that their chat +should turn to speculations as to his success in ejecting Clarkson from +his house, and the Indians from their fisheries.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"More trouble than it's worth," said George Anderson; "there is not a +tree on the land that will pay for cutting down."</p> + +<p>"Very likely not; but the land may not be bad; and it is a capital +situation. I only wish it were mine," answered Harry, who had his own +reasons for wishing to be a little more independent in circumstances.</p> + +<p>"Tell you what," said George, making a knot on the end of his whip-lash, +"my belief is, that it is quite as much for pleasure as profit that the +Doctor is so busy about his land."</p> + +<p>"Pleasure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Do not you see any pleasure in it? By Jove, I asked him something +about Clarkson the other day; and if you'd seen his face, you'd believe +he enjoyed the fight."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's not unlikely. He's a great brute, that Clarkson. I should +not mind pitching into him myself."</p> + +<p>"I should, though," said George laughing; "the chances of his pitching +into me in return would be too strong."</p> + +<p>Harry shrugged his shoulders. "He has a queer character certainly; but +of the two, I think I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> be more afraid of disturbing the Indians, +especially if I had to ride about the country at all hours. It would not +be very difficult to waylay the Doctor; and I dare say some of them are +savage enough to do it, if they had a serious grudge against him."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe they have pluck enough to do anything of the kind. Look +what miserable fellows those are that Dawson has at the mill now. They +look as if all the spirit had been starved out of them."</p> + +<p>So they went on talking until they caught glimpses of the mill before +them, whenever their way lay over the open ground; and then George +Anderson touched the horse with his whip, and they began to get over the +remaining distance more quickly. They were trotting briskly round the +side of a low thicket of brambles, when suddenly a horse, which was +grazing on the further side, raised its head and looked at them. There +was nothing remarkable in that, certainly, for horses were not +unfrequently turned out there; but what was remarkable, was that this +one had a bridle on. George involuntarily tightened his reins; and the +next moment the animal, which seemed to have been disturbed by their +coming, trotted slowly across the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> road in front of them. It was bridled +and saddled, and the saddle was a little on one side, as if it had been +dragged round. Harry sprang from the waggon. He followed the horse, and +in a minute or two caught and led it back to where George, who had also +dismounted, was now tying his to a tree.</p> + +<p>They both recognized the runaway. Harry said one word as he led it up, +"Doctor Morton!" and with a horror-struck face pointed to a dark wet +stain partly on the saddle, partly on the horse's neck.</p> + +<p>George darted round the thicket, and in a moment a cry called Harry to +the same place. A bridle path, more direct than the road, ran close +beside the thorn bushes, and there, half hidden in branches and leaves, +lay something—something that had once been human and living. Dark pools +of blood lay about it, and there were horrible gashes and wounds as if +the murderer had been unable to satisfy his rage, and had taken a +frantic pleasure in mutilating his victim.</p> + +<p>The two young men stood and looked at each other and at the ghastly heap +before them. Silently with white faces they questioned each other what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +to do? To touch what lay there seemed almost impossible, and any thought +of succour was hopeless; but something must be done. They both drew away +from the spot before they spoke. Then Harry said in a low voice, "There +are plenty of men at the mill; you might fetch some of them."</p> + +<p>George went towards the waggon without a word; but just as he was going +to get in he turned round,</p> + +<p>"No, Harry, you must go. Somebody must take the news on to Cacouna, and +that can't be me."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>Harry was in the waggon instantly, and away. His first errand was +quickly done. In a very few minutes George could see, from the place +where he kept watch, that the men began to hurry out of the mill, and +come towards him in a confused throng. Some, however, stayed to bring a +kind of dray with them, and then, when these also had started, he could +see Harry Scott moving slowly off in the waggon towards the town.</p> + +<p>The dray came lumbering over the sand, and the men gathered round the +dreadful heap under the brambles which must be lifted up and laid upon +it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> yet which no one seemed ready to be the first to touch. But, at +last, it was done; the distorted limbs were smoothed and the wounds +partially covered; and some semblance of humanity came back to the dead +form as it was carried slowly away towards home. When this had been +done, there was time for another thought—the murderer?</p> + +<p>Perhaps every one present had already in his heart convicted one person, +but even in the excitement of horror some one had sense enough to say, +"There ought to be a search made—there may be some trace."</p> + +<p>Nor was it difficult to find a trace. At a very little distance from the +spot itself there appeared marks upon the grass as if footsteps, heavy, +and wet with dark-coloured moisture, had trodden there. They followed +the tracks, and came to a place where many low bushes growing close +together formed a kind of thicket. Almost buried in this, the figure of +a man lying upon the ground filled them for a moment with a new +consternation—but this was no lifeless body. They dragged it out—a +squalid, miserable object, with bleared eyes and red disfigured face, a +drunken, half-imbecile Indian.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was so overcome, indeed, with the heavy sleep of intoxication that +even when they made him stand up, he seemed neither to see anything nor +to hear the questions of the men who knew him and called him by his +name. But there were answers to their questions in another shape than +that of words. The hatchet that lay beside him and the stains of blood +still wet upon his ragged clothing were conclusive evidence.</p> + +<p>They led him away, after the little procession which had gone on with +the dray and its load, but he neither resisted, nor indeed spoke at all. +He seemed not to understand what was going on; and the men about him +were for the moment too full of horror, and of that awe which belongs to +the sight of death, to be much disposed to question him.</p> + +<p>So they took murderer and victim both to the sawmill, and there waited, +dreading to carry their ghastly load into the town till such warning as +was possible had been given.</p> + +<p>Meantime Harry Scott, with his mind full of his mission, drove towards +Cacouna. He saw nothing of the people he passed, or who passed him; he +saw only the sight he had just left, except when there rushed into his +recollection for a moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> the wedding-day scarcely six weeks ago, and +the certainty of happiness which then seemed to wait both bride and +bridegroom. And now? "Poor Bella!" broke from his lips, and he shuddered +as he fancied, not Bella, but his cousin Magdalen crushed down in her +youth by such a blow as this. But the momentary, fanciful connection of +the two girls, did but make him the more tender of the young widow. +"Widow!" he said the word half aloud, it seemed so unnatural, so +incredible. But while he thought, he was drawing very near his +destination; for he had at once decided that the proper thing to do was +to find Mr. Bellairs, and leave him to carry the news as he might think +best to his sister-in-law. At the door of the lawyer's office, +therefore, the reluctant messenger stopped, and went in with his face +still full of the strange excitement and trouble of his mission.</p> + +<p>A few words can tell the happiest or the saddest news life ever brings +us; all that Harry knew could be told in two sentences, and, half +announced as they were by his looks, Mr. Bellairs instantly understood +the message, and why it was brought to him. He took his hat, and before +Harry was quite sure whether he had made him understand what had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> really +happened, he was halfway to his own house.</p> + +<p>An hour later, the dray, now more carefully arranged and covered, +brought its load to the door of the house which had been so lately +prepared for the bride's coming home. For convenience' sake they carried +the body into a lower room, and laid it there until its burial, while +Bella sat in her chamber above, silent and tearless, not understanding +yet what had befallen her, but through her stunned and dreary stupor +listening from habit for the footsteps which should have returned at +that hour—the footsteps which death had already silenced for ever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + + +<p>It is easy to imagine how, in so small a community as Cacouna, the news +of a frightful crime committed in their very midst, would spread from +mouth to mouth. How groups of listeners would gather in the streets, +round every man who had anything of the story to tell. How the country +people who had been in town when the murdered man was brought home, +hurried along the solitary roads with a kind of terror upon them, and +carried the news out to the villages and farms around. As to the +murderer, there was a strange confusion in the minds of many of the +townspeople. Doctor Morton's feud with Clarkson had been so well known +that, if there had been any signs of premeditation or design about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> the +crime, suspicion would have turned naturally upon him. But there was no +such appearance, nor the smallest reason to suppose that Clarkson had +been within half a mile of the spot that day. On the contrary, no +reasonable doubt could exist that the real murderer was the Indian who +had been found among the bushes. The men who knew him spoke of him as +passionate, brutal, more than half-savage—there was perfect fitness +between his appearance and character, and the barbarous manner of his +crime. And yet while everybody spoke of him as undoubtedly guilty, +almost everybody had a thought of Clarkson haunting his mind, and an +uneasy desire to find out the truth, entirely incompatible with the +clearness of the circumstantial evidence.</p> + +<p>It was already nearly nine o'clock when Margery going from the Cottage +to Mr. Leigh's, on some errand to his housekeeper, brought back with her +the story which a passing acquaintance had carried so far. She came into +the parlour full of the not unpleasant sensation of having a piece of +strange and horrible news to tell.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had left the room for a moment and Lucia was alone, +sitting rather drearily looking into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> the fire, with her work fallen +into her lap, when Margery came in.</p> + +<p>"Miss Lucia, there's an awful thing happened."</p> + +<p>"What, Margery?" Lucia half smiled, for Margery loved marvels, and made +much of them.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Morton is dead."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! Hush, don't say it."</p> + +<p>"It is true, miss. This afternoon."</p> + +<p>"But how? It is incredible."</p> + +<p>"He was found, Miss Lucia, lying dead by the roadside a piece beyond +Dawson's mill. And they found the man that did it."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that he had been—" she stopped, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"Murdered. Yes," and Margery went into all the details she had heard +from her gossip.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello, attracted by the tone of their voices, had come to the +door between the parlour and her bedroom, and stood there listening. +Both she and Lucia, who, like every one else except perhaps his wife, +had heard of the doctor's proceedings against Clarkson, thought only of +him as the murderer until Margery finished her recital with—</p> + +<p>"It all comes of having them savages of Indians about. I never could +abide the sight of them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia caught a glimpse of her mother's face. She felt her own muscles +stiffen with fear. With desperate strength she steadied her voice.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean about Indians?" she said.</p> + +<p>"It is an Indian as done it," Margery answered half indignant. "There's +no white man, let him be ever such a brute, would have chopped the body +up like that."</p> + +<p>"You said they had taken the murderer?"</p> + +<p>"They took him, and he's in gaol. Dawson's men knew him. He has been +working for Dawson lately. They say he comes from Moose Island. Mr. +Strafford would know him most like."</p> + +<p>There was nothing further to be asked, and Margery went out of the room, +seeing no more than the natural horror on those two white faces of +mother and daughter, which dreaded to meet and read the thought, in each +other's eyes.</p> + +<p>It was for this, then, that they had delayed their journey. Neither +doubted for a moment the guilt of the wretched creature who was the +haunting terror and misery of their lives; and it was not strange that, +overwhelmed with the stronger and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> more personal interest, they should +forget to wonder or lament over the dead, cut down in the very beginning +of life, or to think of the desolate and widowed bride meeting her first +grief in the unnatural guise of murder.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello came back to her chair by the fireside. She could no +longer take her fears and anxieties into the solitude of her own room, +and hide them there. There was both pain and comfort in knowing that +Lucia now shared with her every additional weight—even this last, which +she scarcely yet comprehended. But it was some time before either spoke. +Each was trying to gauge the new depth which seemed to have opened under +their feet—the wife and daughter of a murderer! The old ignominy, the +old degradation, had been all but intolerable. How then should they bear +this? And their secret, must it not be known now? become the common +gossip of the country, of the people who had called them friends? Each +felt instinctively that their thoughts were running on in the same +channels, each shrank from words. Yet, it was needful to consult, to ask +each other the question, "What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>At last Mrs. Costello roused herself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We must put off our journey," she said, with a smothered sigh, which, +indeed, had nearly been a groan.</p> + +<p>Lucia looked up.</p> + +<p>"It may not be true," she answered, knowing that there was no need to +say what "it" was—the idea which had seized upon both their minds with +so deadly a grasp.</p> + +<p>"It may not, God grant it! But we must know; and if it is, I ought to be +here."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you cannot. It will kill you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled, the wan smile of long-taxed patience.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I think not. Life is hard for both of us, hardest +perhaps for you, darling, just now, but I have no thought that it is +over yet for either of us."</p> + +<p>Lucia came and knelt down in her old place by her mother's side. It +always seemed as if thus close together, able to speak to each other as +much by caresses as by words, they were both stronger, and could look +more calmly at the calamities which threatened them with every evil +except that of separation.</p> + +<p>"You will write to Mr. Strafford?" Lucia asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; but first we must know certainly."</p> + +<p>"And how to do that?"</p> + +<p>"There will be no difficulty to-morrow. Mr. Leigh is sure to hear the +particulars. I will go and ask him about them."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean to tell him?"</p> + +<p>"No; it will be easy enough without that, to ask about a subject which +every one will be talking of."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I can go to Mr. Leigh as well as you. I can go better, for I +shall not suffer as you will, and I can bring you home a faithful +account of what I hear."</p> + +<p>"Darling, all this is new to you. I have had to serve a long +apprenticeship to learn self-restraint."</p> + +<p>Lucia laughed bitterly. "See the advantage of my Indian blood," she +said. "Trust me, mother, I will be as steady as those ancestors of mine +who bore torture without flinching."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello bent down and kissed her child's forehead.</p> + +<p>"Yours is a better heroism, Lucia; for mental pain is harder to bear +than physical, and you would suffer to save me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We suffer together, mamma. I must take my share. To-morrow I shall go, +as usual, to Mr. Leigh's, and bring back all I can learn. But he will +wonder to see me, and still more if he hears that we are not going +away."</p> + +<p>"You must simply tell him our journey is put off. He will ask no +questions, and only think I am very dilatory and changeable. No one else +is likely to think of us at all for a day or two to come."</p> + +<p>They were silent again for a little while. Lucia's thoughts, relieved +from the first heavy pressure on them by the very fact of having spoken, +began to turn from the criminal to the victim; from their own share in +the horror to that of others. One thing seemed to stand out clear and +plain from the confusion which still enveloped all else. She, the +daughter of the murderer, could never again meet the wife of the +murdered man as a friend. If the punishment of the father descended to +the children, did not their guilt descend too? Already she seemed to +feel the stain of blood upon her hand, and to shrink from herself, as +all innocent persons ought to do, henceforward. And Bella, her old +companion and friend, must shrink from her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> most of all; the very spirit +of the dead would surely rise up to forbid all intercourse between them.</p> + +<p>Lucia had not boasted of her self-command without reason. A mind +naturally strong, and supported both by pride and affection, had enabled +her to meet with courage the bitterness and misery of the past weeks. +But she was only a girl still, and had not learned to rule her thoughts +as well as her looks and words. So if they grew morbid, and her dreary +imagination sometimes tortured her uselessly and cruelly, it was no +great wonder. She could suffer and be silent; but she had not yet learnt +so to rule her spirit as to save herself needless suffering.</p> + +<p>Thus the very intensity of her sympathy for Bella only reacted in +loathing and horror of herself; and she had begun to try to devise means +for carrying out that avoidance of all most nearly connected with the +dead, which seemed to her an imperative duty, when she was startled by +her mother's voice.</p> + +<p>"If it is he," she said—and it seemed that they both shrank from any +plainer expression of their thoughts than these vague phrases—"if it is +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> our hardest task is before us. How will you bear, Lucia, to meet +them all again?"</p> + +<p>"Mother, I cannot! Surely you do not think of it. How can <i>we</i>"—she +shuddered as she spoke—"how can we go again among any innocent people?"</p> + +<p>"My child, we <i>must</i>. More than that, we must keep our secret, if we +can, still."</p> + +<p>"But Bella? Mother, how can I look at her—a widow—and know who I am, +and who has done it?"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Lucia. My poor child, your burden has been heavy lately; +do not make it heavier than it need be. The crime and the horror are bad +enough, but we have no share in them. No; think of it reasonably. The +wife and child of a criminal, even where there has been daily +association between them, are not condemned, but rather pitied. No mind, +but one cruelly prejudiced, would brand them with his guilt. Do not +punish yourself, then, where others would acquit you. But, indeed, I +need not tell you how our very separation is a safeguard to us—to you +especially. Think of these things; and do not suffer yourself to imagine +that there is a bar between you and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> Bella just now, when I know you +love her more than ever."</p> + +<p>Lucia's head lay upon her mother's knee. Mrs. Costello's touch on the +soft hair, her tone of gentle reproof, and the thoughts her words called +up, brought tears, fast and thick, to her child's eyes. Lucia had shed +few tears in her life. Until lately she had known no cause for them; and +lately they had not come. With dry eyes and throbbing temples she had +gone through the most sorrowful hours; but now the spell seemed broken, +and a sense of calm and relief came with the change. Mrs. Costello went +on,—</p> + +<p>"There is another reason why we must appear as we have always done. +Suspicion is not proof. Margery's story, and more, may be true, and yet +it may be that, three months hence, all, as regards ourselves, will be +just as it has been. We must not, through a blind fear of one calamity, +put ourselves in the way of another. Neither of us can look much at the +future to-night; but we must not forget that there is a future. So it is +still the old task which is before us, to keep our secret."</p> + +<p>The voice had been very steady until the last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> word; but as that was +spoken, it faltered and failed so suddenly that Lucia looked up. She +sprang to her feet, but just in time. The over-tried strength had given +way, and Mrs. Costello had fallen back in a deep fainting fit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + + +<p>Lucia dared not call Margery to her assistance. The consciousness of +having something to conceal made her dread the smallest self-betrayal. +She hastened, therefore, to do alone all that she could do for her +mother's recovery; but it was so long before she succeeded that she grew +almost wild with terror. At last, however, the deathly look passed away, +and with the very first moment of returning animation, the habit of +self-control returned also. Mrs. Costello smiled at her daughter's +anxious face.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," she said, "that you will have to get used to these +attacks. Do not be frightened; you see they pass off again."</p> + +<p>"But you never used to have them?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; but youth and strength cannot last for ever."</p> + +<p>"Mamma! you are not old; you are not much more than forty yet."</p> + +<p>"Forty-two in years; but there are some years that might count for ten."</p> + +<p>"It is this horrible pressure upon you; you are being tortured to +death!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, my child. What I suffer is but the just and natural consequence +of what I did. Be patient, both for me and for yourself. By-and-by we +shall see that all is right."</p> + +<p>Hard doctrine! and only to be learnt by long endurance. Lucia rebelled +against it, but she could not argue with her mother's pale face and +faintly spoken words to oppose her. She busied herself softly in such +little offices as her anxiety suggested, and they spoke no more that +night of the subjects nearest to their hearts.</p> + +<p>But when Mrs. Costello was alone, she began to think of Maurice. She +felt, even before she began to think, that something which had been a +stay and prop to her hitherto had suddenly been snatched away, and she +had now to realize that this support was her confidence in him. For a +long time she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> had grown accustomed to rest upon the idea that a safe +and honourable future was secured for her child, and this had made +present trials and difficulties endurable. She had seen Percy's +courtship with bitter disappointment, although she had miscalculated its +issue, and through all her sympathy with Lucia, she had secretly +rejoiced at his dismissal; she had felt no scruples in hearing from +Maurice, at the very moment when his prospects had suddenly changed and +brightened, the assurance of his attachment, and she had received his +note that very day with a joy which almost resembled that which a girl +feels who hears from his own lips that her absent lover is faithful to +her. To this mother, cut off from every tie but that of motherhood, her +child was the one only absorbing interest; she had loved Maurice, but +she knew now that she had loved him chiefly as the representative of +Lucia's future safety and happiness. It had never occurred to her that +her own strange marriage, that the race or the character of her husband, +which had been recognized by both mother and daughter as insuperable +obstacles in Percy's case, would estrange the nobler and truer nature. +The whole miserable story would have to be told,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> she had thought, when +the time came, but she had neither feared its effect on Maurice nor felt +any compunction at the idea of his carrying into an honourable family a +wife whose parentage was her terror and disgrace.</p> + +<p>But now that the disgrace had grown immeasurably darker, now that her +story might have to be told, not privately and with extenuation, but in +coarse hard words, and to the whole of the little world that knew her; +now that every one who would, might be able to point at her as the +daughter of a murderer,—how would it be?</p> + +<p>With the feeling that at length she was indeed left alone and helpless, +Mrs. Costello put from her the last fragment of her dream. There was +still, it is true, the want of positive knowledge that Christian was the +criminal, but in her own heart she had already accepted the evidence +against him, and it seemed to her that all which remained to be done +with regard to Maurice was to write and tell him, not all the +truth—there was no need for that, and he might hear it soon enough from +other sources—but that the hopes they had both indulged in had deceived +them, and must be laid aside and forgotten.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>And when her long meditation came to an end, she said softly to herself,</p> + +<p>"Thank God, <i>she</i> does not know. And I have been ready to complain of +the very unconsciousness which has saved her this!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh was surprised, as Lucia had expected, when she went next day, +just as usual, to pay him her morning visit. He was easily satisfied, +however, with the slight reasons she gave him for their delay, and glad +of anything that kept them still at the Cottage.</p> + +<p>There was no need for her to ask any questions about the event of +yesterday. All that was known by every one had been told to Mr. Leigh +already by an early visitor, and he, full of horror and sympathy, was +able to tell the terrible story over again to a listener, whose deep and +agonizing interest in it he never suspected.</p> + +<p>But to stay, after the certainty she sought for was obtained; to talk +indifferently of other matters; to regulate face and voice so as to show +enough, but not too much, of the tumult at her heart, was a task before +which Lucia's courage almost gave way. Yet it was done. No impatience +betrayed her, no sign of emotion beyond that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> of natural feeling for +others was allowed to escape her; only her hands, which lay quietly +clasped together in her lap, gradually tightened and contracted till the +pressure of her slight fingers was like that of iron.</p> + +<p>At last she was released; and exhausted as if with hard physical +exertion, she came back to the Cottage with her news.</p> + +<p>There was no need to tell it. The hopeless look which, when she dared be +natural, settled in her eyes, told plainly enough that there was no +mistake of identity. Only one hope remained, and that so feeble that +neither dared to acknowledge it in her heart, though she might speak of +it as existing—the hope that after all the prisoner might be innocent.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello wrote that day to her faithful friend and counsellor, Mr. +Strafford.</p> + +<p>"I am in a terrible strait," she said, "and it is to you only in this +world that I can look for aid. My whole life, as you know, has been +given to my daughter—for her I have thought and planned, and in her I +have had my daily consolation. But now I begin to remember that I am not +a mother only, but also a wife. Have I a right to forget it? Can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +anything excuse a wife who does so? Tell me what I ought to do; for if +ever I am to think of my husband it must be now.</p> + +<p>"Yet it seems to me that, for Lucia's sake, I must still, if possible, +keep my secret. I long to send her away from me, at this moment, but she +has no friends at a distance from Cacouna, and besides, our separation +would certainly excite notice. I might, indeed, send her to England; my +cousin, I believe, would receive her for a while; but there, you know, I +cannot follow her, and a long parting is more than I have courage to +think of. So I come back to the same point from which I started. I am +almost bewildered by this new wretchedness that has fallen upon us; and +I wait for your sympathy and counsel with most impatient eagerness."</p> + +<p>She had not, however, to wait long. The country post, always irregular, +for once favoured her anxiety, and only two days afterwards came a +hurried note, bringing the best possible answer. Mr. Strafford wrote,</p> + +<p>"The fact of one of my people being in such trouble would bring me to +Cacouna if I had no other reason for coming. I shall be with you, +there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>fore, the day after you receive this. No one, I should think, +need, for the present at least, know of any connection whatever between +your family affairs and my visit. My errand is to try what can be done +for the unhappy prisoner, and, as an old friend, I shall ask your +hospitality during my stay. Then I will give you what advice and help I +can; of my truest and warmest sympathy I know I need give you no +assurance."</p> + +<p>To both mother and daughter this note brought comfort, though Lucia had +no knowledge whatever of the many thoughts regarding her father which +had begun to occupy her mother's mind. To her, strange and unnatural as +it may seem, he was simply an object of fear and abhorrence. She hated +him as the cause of her mother's sufferings, of their false and insecure +position, and of the self-loathing which possessed her when she thought +of their relationship. The idea of any wifely duty owing to him could +never have struck her, for what visions of married life she had, +belonged to a world totally unlike that of her parents' experience, and +she regarded what she knew of that as something beyond all reach of +ordinary rules or feelings.</p> + +<p>Yet much as she would have wondered had she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> known it, her mother's +thoughts were coming to be hour by hour more occupied with that long +unseen and dreaded husband, who had indeed been her tyrant, but who was +still bound to her by ties of her own weaving, and who was the father of +her child. A strange mixture of feelings had taken the place of her old +fear and disgust; there was still horror, especially of the new guilt +which separated him more than ever from her purer world, but there was a +deep and yearning pity also. She felt sure, before Mr. Strafford +arrived, that he would tell her she was right; that Christian—even by +the very act which had put him out of the ranks of ordinary men, out of +the place, low and degraded as it was, which he had filled among his own +people—had recovered a claim upon her, and that she must not fail to +give him in his need what succour might be possible. She was right, and +Lucia heard with dismay that their secret was about to be betrayed to +the very person from whom most of all it had hitherto been kept.</p> + +<p>Nothing, however, was to be done rashly. Mr. Strafford arrived late in +the evening, and next day he proposed to go to the jail to see +Christian, which he knew there would be no difficulty in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> doing, and to +bring back to Mrs. Costello such an account as would enable her to judge +how far her interference might or might not be useful. There was still a +chance that it might be useless, and to that hope Lucia clung with a +pertinacity which added to her mother's anxieties.</p> + +<p>In the three days which had now passed since the murder, the minds even +of those most nearly concerned had had time to rally a little from the +first shock, and to begin to be conscious of the world around them going +on just as usual in spite of all. Doctor Morton had been to a singular +degree without relatives. An old and infirm uncle, living a long +distance from Cacouna, was almost the only person connected with him by +blood; it was to her own family alone, therefore, that Bella had to look +for the deepest sympathy. But the whole neighbourhood had known her from +a child; and in her great grief every one seemed ready to claim a share. +All the kindness and goodness of heart which in ordinary times was +hidden away under the crust of each different character, flowed out +towards the young widow, and as she sat in her desolate house, sorrow +seemed to invest her with its royalty, and to transform her old friends +into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> loyal subjects, eager to do her but the smallest service.</p> + +<p>And in the midst of this universal impulse of sympathy, and of the +reverence which great suffering inspires, it was impossible for the +Costellos to remain apart. Their own share in the misery did not prevent +them from feeling for the others who knew nothing of their partnership; +and Lucia forgot to accuse herself of hypocrisy when she was admitted +into the darkened room, where her once gay companion sat and watched +with heavy eyes the passing of those first days of widowhood. No one +would have recognized Bella Latour now. She sat, wan and half-lifeless, +caring for nothing except now and then to draw round her more closely a +great shawl in which she was wrapped, as if the only sensation of which +she was still capable were that of cold. Hour after hour she neither +spoke nor moved, until her sister, alarmed, and anxious by any means to +arouse her from her stupor, implored Lucia to see her, to try to make +her speak or shed the tears which, since she had seen the body of her +husband, seemed to be frozen up.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs had not been mistaken in hoping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> for some good result from +Lucia's visit. At the sight of her a flood of colour rushed to Bella's +deathlike face, and she half rose to meet her; but when she felt the +long tender kiss which had a whole world of tender pity in its silent +language, she turned suddenly away, and throwing herself upon a couch, +sobbed with the passionate vehemence of a child. From that moment she +was eager to keep Lucia with her. She did not care to speak, but the +sight of one so associated with her lost happiness seemed a consolation +to her; and thus, with her own heavy weight of uncertainty and distress, +the poor girl had to take up and bear patiently such share as she could +of her friend's. After the first, too, there came back such a horrible +sensation of being a kind of accessory to the crime which had been +committed, that the mere sight of Bella's face was torture to her.</p> + +<p>In this way the day of Mr. Strafford's arrival and the next one, that of +his first visit to the jail, passed with Lucia. It was not until quite +evening that she could leave the closed-up house and its mistress; and +never had a road seemed so long to her as that from Cacouna to the +Cottage. Her mind, roused into feverish activity, recurred to the night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +when she had met Percy on that very road; she saw again, in imagination, +the figure of the Indian—of her father, as she now believed—rising up +from the green bank. She saw Percy, and heard his words, and then +remembered with bitter shame and anger that the brutal creature from +whom he had saved her, had nevertheless had power to separate them for +ever. And to this creature her mother thought herself still bound! She +grew wild with impatience to know the result of Mr. Strafford's +mission.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + + +<p>Lucia came with flushed cheeks and beating heart into the presence of +her mother and Mr. Strafford. She longed to have her question answered +at once, yet dreaded to ask it. They were waiting tea for her; and the +bright cheerful room, with its peaceful home-look, the table and +familiar tea-service, the perfectly settled and calm aspect of +everything about, struck upon her disturbed fancy with a jarring sense +of unfitness. But in a very little while the calm began to have a more +reasonable effect; and by the time tea was over, she was ready to hear +what had been done, without such an exaggerated idea of its importance, +as she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> been entertaining during her long hours of suspense.</p> + +<p>Yet still she did not ask; and after a little while, Mrs. Costello said,</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strafford has been all the afternoon in Cacouna. I have scarcely +had time yet to hear all he had to tell me."</p> + +<p>Lucia glanced at her mother and then at their friend; she was glad the +subject had been commenced without her, and only expressed by her eyes +the anxiety she felt regarding it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford looked troubled. He felt, with a delicacy of perception +which was almost womanly, the many sided perplexities increasing the +already heavy trial of Mrs. Costello's life. He grieved for the child +whom he had known from her birth now plunged so young into a sea of +troubles, and as he saw how bravely and steadily she met them, his +desire to help and spare her grew painfully strong. If he could have +said to them both, "Go, leave the miserable wretch to his fate, and find +a home where you will never need to fear him again," he would have done +it with most genuine relief and satisfaction; but he could not do so—at +least, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> yet; and duty was far from easy at that moment.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said as cheerfully as he could, in answer to Lucia's glance. +"I have been in Cacouna for some hours to-day and I shall be there again +to-morrow. I own, Lucia, I have not unlimited faith in circumstantial +evidence."</p> + +<p>Lucia started, and her heart seemed to give a great leap—could he mean +that the prisoner was innocent? A week ago she would have said that the +burden of disgrace lay upon them too heavily to be much increased by +anything that could happen, and now she knew by the wild throb of hope +how its weight had been doubled and trebled since the shadow of murder +had been hanging over them. But the hope died out at once, for there was +nothing in her mind to feed it, and she had sunk back into her enforced +quiet before she answered,</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me what the evidence is, if you have heard at all +exactly, and what you have seen to-day?"</p> + +<p>There was nothing of girlish excitement or agitation in her words or +tone. Mr. Strafford wondered a little, but at once did as she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The evidence appears to be very simple and straightforward. From the +way in which the crime was committed and the body found, there is no +reason to suppose that it had been planned beforehand. The mode in which +death was inflicted showed, on the other hand, that it was not the +result of a hasty or chance blow—but really a murder, though +unpremeditated. Quite near to the place where the body lay, a man was +found hidden among the bushes. His hands and clothes were marked with +blood; he had by him a hatchet which had all the appearance of having +been used to inflict the wounds on the murdered man, and a heavy stick +which might well have given the first blow. His being but clumsily +hidden is accounted for easily, for he was evidently intoxicated; and +lastly, he is known to have been connected with a party of smugglers who +used to land their goods on Beaver Creek, and who had reason to dislike +Doctor Morton."</p> + +<p>A deeper breath, a slight relaxing of the closed lips, were the only +signs from either mother or daughter how this brief and clear account, +riveting as it did upon their minds the certainty of guilt, had been +endured as people endure the necessary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> torture of the surgeon's knife. +Neither spoke, but waited for what was to follow.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford's tone changed. "I have told you what you will have to +hear from others," he said; "and, without doubt a stronger case would be +difficult to find. Unless something new should come to light, I do not +think many people will even feel the least uncertainty on the subject. +But I do."</p> + +<p>He paused, and then went on; not, however, without keeping an anxious +watch on the faces opposite to him, lest his touch, however gentle, +should press too hardly upon their quivering nerves.</p> + +<p>"In the first place it appears that there is a man on whom, if this +prisoner could be cleared, suspicion would naturally fall. This man, +Clarkson, I dare say you know by repute far better than I do, who never +heard of him till to-day; but he appears to have so bad a character that +no one would be shocked or surprised to hear that he was the murderer. +He had also a much stronger ill-will against Doctor Morton than any one +else, either Indian or white man, can be shown to have had. But yet +there is such an entire absence of any proof whatever that he did commit +the crime, that unless I wanted you to understand <i>all</i> my reasons<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> for +uncertainty, I would not speak of him even here in connection with it.</p> + +<p>"My next reason seems almost as shadowy as this; but it has considerable +weight with me, nevertheless. It is, that I believe the man who is in +prison for the murder has neither strength of body nor of nerve to have +committed it."</p> + +<p>He stopped as Mrs. Costello uttered a broken exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>"You would not know him," Mr. Strafford said gently, answering her look. +"He has changed so much since I saw him not many weeks ago, that even I +scarcely did so. They tell me that he has had an attack of fever while +he was in the bush, and that he was but half recovered from it when he +came back with the rest of the gang, a week ago."</p> + +<p>"And since then," Mrs. Costello asked, "where has he been?"</p> + +<p>"Not where he was likely to regain much strength. He and the other +Indians have been living in one of the shanties close to the mill. It is +extremely swampy and unhealthy there, and besides that, he seems to have +been almost without food, living upon whisky."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia shuddered still; but the wretched picture softened her, +nevertheless. A feeling of compassion for the first time stole into her +heart for the miserable creature who was her father.</p> + +<p>"But that day," she said; "do you know anything of that day?"</p> + +<p>"He seems to have been doing nothing—indeed I believe he had been +incapable of doing anything—for two or three days. That morning his +companions went out and left him lying on his bed asleep; they did not +see him again till after he was in custody."</p> + +<p>"Did you question him? What does he say?"</p> + +<p>"He says nothing. He remembers nothing. He seems to me to have been +suffering that day from a return of his fever, and besides that, he had +had some whisky—very little would overcome a man in his condition—so +that if he crawled out into the sunshine, and finally lay down among the +bushes to sleep, it is perfectly credible that the murder might have +been committed close to him without his knowing anything about it."</p> + +<p>"But the hatchet? Was it not his?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But he denies—whatever his denial<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> may be worth—that the heavy +stick which was found by him, ever was his; and though it is a hard +thing to say, it can be imagined that the very things which fasten +suspicion on him may have been arranged for that purpose by another +person."</p> + +<p>"He does say something on the subject then, since he denies the stick +being his? Did he talk to you willingly on the subject?" asked Mrs. +Costello.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford answered her question by another.</p> + +<p>"Have you courage and strength to see him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; if you think it well for me to do so."</p> + +<p>Lucia caught her mother's hand.</p> + +<p>"You have not, mamma, you must not go! Mr. Strafford, she cannot bear +the exertion."</p> + +<p>"You do not know what I can bear, my child. Certainly this, if it is +needful or advisable."</p> + +<p>"You will find it less trying in some ways than you perhaps expect," Mr. +Strafford went on, "and in others more so. There is nothing in the man +you will see to remind you of the past, and yet my great reason for +thinking it well for you to see him is a hope that you may be able to +recall the past to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> him, so as to bring him back to something like +clearness of comprehension. It seems as if nothing less would do so."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Does not he know you?"</p> + +<p>"I can scarcely tell. I do not know why I should not tell you plainly +the truth, which you will have to hear before you see him. His mind is +either completely gone, or terror and imprisonment have deadened it for +the time. The other men who have been working with him say that he was +sane enough when he was sober up to the time of the murder. Certainly he +is not sane now. But that may well be a temporary thing caused by his +illness and the confinement."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>"And you think," she said, looking up, "that the sight of me might bring +back his recollection. But is there anything to be gained by doing so if +we succeed? Is not his insanity the best thing that could happen?"</p> + +<p>"I think not in this case. People seem to have made up their minds that +he was sane enough, on that day, to be accountable for what he did; and +if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> we could only recall him to himself, he might be able to give us +some clue to the truth."</p> + +<p>"I will go then," she answered; and Lucia saw that it would be only +inflicting useless pain, to make any further objections. But she was not +satisfied.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford saw her concerned and uneasy look, and said,</p> + +<p>"It is an experiment worth trying, Lucia. If it does not succeed, I +promise that I will not recommend it to be repeated."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Strafford, all Cacouna will know of my mother's going to the +jail—she who never goes anywhere."</p> + +<p>"That has been the great difficulty in the way, certainly, but I think +we can manage it. The jailer, Elton, is a good man, and truly concerned +about the condition of his prisoner. He talked to me to-day about him so +compassionately, that I asked whether it would be possible for any one +residing in the town to be allowed to visit him. He said any one I chose +to bring with me should see him, and therefore there need be no gossip +or surprise at your mother going, first of all."</p> + +<p>There was no more to be said; and each of the three was glad to let the +conversation drop and try<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> to turn their thoughts to other and less +painfully absorbing subjects. But to mother and daughter all other +subjects were but empty words; memory in the former, and imagination in +the latter were busy perpetually with that one who, by the laws of God +and man, ought to have been the third at their fireside—who had been +for years a vagrant and an outcast, and was now the inmate of a +murderer's cell. Innocent perhaps—and it was strange how that +possibility seemed slowly but surely to grow in both their minds; +shadowing over, and promising by-and-by to dim in their remembrance the +hideous recollections of the past.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford's words had thus already begun to bear fruit. As for +himself, the doubt he had expressed was merely a doubt—a matter of +speculation, not of feeling. Still, while it remained in his mind, it +was a sufficient reason for using every possible means of discovering +the truth, and scarcely needed the additional impulse given by his warm +regard for Mrs. Costello and Lucia, to induce him to devote himself, as +far as his other duties would allow, to the unfortunate Christian. He +was anxious to bring the long separated husband and wife together, not +merely for the reason he had spoken of, but be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>cause he thought that if +their meetings promised comfort or benefit to the prisoner, it would be +his wife's duty to continue them; while if they proved useless, she +might be released from all obligation to remain at Cacouna.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + + +<p>The change which had taken place in the fortunes of Maurice Leigh was +one that might have dazzled him a little, if he had not had a strong +counteracting influence in the thought of all he had left in Canada. He +found himself, without hesitation or difficulty, but with a suddenness +which was like the transformations in a fairy tale, changed from a +Backwoods farmer's son into an important member of an old and wealthy +family. Only the other day he had been working hard and holding up to +himself as the reward of his work, the hope of becoming a successful +provincial lawyer; now he was the heir, and all but the actual +possessor, of a splendid fortune and an estate which gave him a foremost +place among English country gentlemen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>His arrival at Hunsdon, his grandfather's house, had been a moment of +some embarrassment both to him and to Mr. Beresford. Each had some +feeling of prejudice against the other, yet each felt that it was only +by having a mutual liking and regard that they could get on comfortably +together. Happily their very first meeting cleared up all doubts on the +subject. Mr. Beresford instantly decided that a grandson who so strongly +resembled his own family, and who even in the backwoods had managed to +grow up with the air and manner of a gentleman, would be, in a year or +two, quite qualified to become Squire of Hunsdon, and that in the +meantime he would be a pleasant companion.</p> + +<p>Maurice, on the other hand, forgot his grandfather's former harshness, +and reproached himself for his unwillingness to come to England, when he +saw how solitary the great house was, and how utterly the feeble and +paralytic old man was left to the care and companionship of servants. He +wondered at first that this should be so, for the rich generally have no +want of friends; but the puzzle soon explained itself as he began to +know his grandfather better. Mr. Beresford had been a powerful and very +active man; he had been proud<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> of his strength and retained it to old +age. Then, suddenly, paralysis came, and he was all at once utterly +helpless. His son was dead, his granddaughter married, and away from +him; his pride shrank from showing his infirmity to other relatives. So +he shut the world out altogether, and by-and-by the loneliness he thus +brought upon himself, growing too oppressive, he began to long for his +daughter's children.</p> + +<p>The moment Maurice came, and he was satisfied that he should like him, +he became perfectly content. His property was entirely in his own power, +and one of his first proceedings was, rather ostentatiously, to make a +will which was to relieve him of all future trouble about its disposal; +his next to begin a regular course of instruction, intended to fit his +grandson perfectly for the succession which was now settled upon him.</p> + +<p>In this way, two or three weeks passed on, and Maurice grew accustomed +to Hunsdon and to the sober routine of an invalid's life. It was not a +bright existence, certainly. The large empty house looked dreary and +deserted; and the library to which Mr. Beresford was carried every +morning, and where he lay all day immovable on his sofa,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> had the quiet +dulness of aspect which belongs to an invalid's room. There had been +some few visitors since Maurice's arrival, and what neighbours there +were within a reasonable distance seemed disposed to be as friendly as +possible; but still the monotony of this new life left him enough, and +more than enough, leisure for speculations on the past and future, which +had a large mixture of disturbing and uneasy thoughts to qualify their +brightness. He waited, too, with considerable curiosity for the return +of his cousin, who, with her husband, was away from home when he +arrived. She had married a neighbouring baronet, and when at home was a +frequent visitor at Hunsdon; and this was all that Maurice could learn +about her.</p> + +<p>But one morning, as he sat with Mr. Beresford, and the usual daily +conversation, or rather lecture, about some affairs connected with the +management of the estate was in full progress, a pony-carriage swept +past the windows and stopped at the door.</p> + +<p>"It is Louisa," said Mr. Beresford, and the next minute the door of the +room opened, and a little woman came in. She was so very little, that if +she had chosen, she might have passed for a child; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> she had no such +idea. On the contrary, she had a way of enveloping herself in sweeping +draperies and flowing robes that gave her a look of being much taller +and infinitely more dignified than Nature had intended. She came in, in +a kind of cloud, through which Maurice only distinguished an exceedingly +pretty bright face, and a quantity of fair hair, together with a sort of +soft feminine atmosphere which seemed all at once to brighten the dull +room as she went straight up to her grandfather's sofa, and bent down to +give him a kiss.</p> + +<p>"So you are come back?" Mr. Beresford said. "But you see, I have +somebody else now. Here is your cousin Maurice."</p> + +<p>Lady Dighton turned round and held out her hand. "I am very glad to see +my cousin," she said. "It was quite time you had somebody to take care +of you."</p> + +<p>She had a gay, careless manner, but her smiling eyes took a tolerably +sharp survey of the stranger nevertheless, and she was not ill satisfied +with the result. "He is very good-looking," she said to herself, "and +looks <i>nice</i>. Of course he must be very countrified, but we will help +him to rub that off." So she took him under her patronage im<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>mediately. +She said no more to him, however, at present, but occupied herself with +her grandfather, asking a great many questions, and telling him of the +places and people she and her husband had seen during their two months' +tour. Mr. Beresford was interested and amused; the little lady possessed +one decided advantage over Maurice, for she and her grandfather belonged +entirely to the same world, though to two different generations, and +could enter into the same subjects and understand the same allusions. +While they talked, Maurice had an opportunity of looking more +deliberately at his cousin. He liked her small graceful figure, her tiny +hands, and bright sunshiny face, with its frame of almost golden hair +arranged in full soft puffs; he liked the air of daintiness and +refinement about her dress, and the musical sound of her voice as she +talked. He admired her the more, perhaps, because she was quite unlike +the type of woman which was, in his thoughts, beyond admiration. But it +did occur to him how lovely Lucia would look, with the same advantages +of wealth and station as Lady Dighton, and a delicious vision swept past +him, of the old house brightening up permanently, under the reign of a +beautiful mistress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>He had not many minutes, however, for fancies; the most important news +on both sides having been exchanged, the other two were coming to +subjects in which he could join, and went on smoothly and pleasantly +enough till luncheon. After that meal Mr. Beresford always went to +sleep; it was generally Maurice's holiday, when he could ride or walk +out without fear of being missed, but to-day he only strolled out on the +long portico in front of the house, while Lady Dighton went to have a +chat with the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>Presently, however, a gleam of bright colour appeared at the hall door, +and Maurice went forward and met her coming out.</p> + +<p>"Shall I get you a shawl?" he said; "it is not very warm here."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you; I like the cool air. I want to come out and talk to you, +for grandpapa takes up all my attention when I am with him."</p> + +<p>They began walking slowly up and down under the stone colonnade, which +had been added as a decoration to the front of the dark red brick house, +and Lady Dighton went on talking.</p> + +<p>"I was so glad when I heard you were here. Ever since poor papa's death +I have felt quite un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>comfortable about grandpapa. I came over to see him +as often as I could, but, of course, I had to think of Sir John."</p> + +<p>"And Dighton is a good way from here?" Maurice said. He had not been +quite sure whether his cousin would not regard him as an interloper, +coming between her and her inheritance; and he was still sufficiently in +the dark, to feel the subject an awkward one.</p> + +<p>"Only six miles, fortunately. I say fortunately, <i>now</i>, because I hope +we are going to be very good friends, but till I saw you, I was not sure +whether it was fortunate. It is so disagreeable to have near neighbours +whom one does not like, especially if they are relations."</p> + +<p>Her frankness was amusing, but not very easy to answer. However, the two +or three words he found for the occasion did perfectly well.</p> + +<p>"You are exactly like the Beresfords," she went on, "and that I know +must please grandpapa. He never liked me because I am like my mother's +family. I don't mean that he is not fond of me in one way; I only mean +that my being like the St. Clairs instead of like the Beresfords is one +reason<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> why he would never have left Hunsdon to me when there was +anybody else to leave it to."</p> + +<p>Maurice felt a little relieved and enlightened. His cousin then had +never expected to inherit Hunsdon; he took courage on that, to ask a +question.</p> + +<p>"But as he could not have thought until lately of making a child of my +mother's his heir, who was supposed to stand next in succession to my +uncle?"</p> + +<p>Lady Dighton gave a little sigh to the memory of her father.</p> + +<p>"Grandpapa always wished him to marry again," she said. "Mamma died six +years ago; then I was married, and from that time I know perfectly well +that grandpapa was continually looking out for a new daughter-in-law. He +was disappointed, however; I do not think myself that papa would have +married. At any rate he did not; and then, nearly two years ago, he +died."</p> + +<p>"And has my grandfather been alone ever since?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. For some time he was too much grieved to trouble himself about the +future—and then he was paralysed. Perhaps you have found out already +that Hunsdon is a great deal more to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> than so many acres of land and +so much money? He loves it, and cares about it, more I believe than +about any living creature."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I can understand that the future of his estate is quite as +important as the future of a son or daughter would be."</p> + +<p>"Quite. He never could have borne the idea of its being joined to, or +swallowed up by another. Therefore, I do not think, in any case, he +would have left it to me. It was necessary he should have an heir, who +would be really his successor, and I am very glad indeed that he found +you."</p> + +<p>Maurice did not quite understand the slight unconscious sadness of the +tone in which Lady Dighton said, "in any case;" he did not even know +that the one baby who had been for a little while heir of Dighton, and +possible heir of Hunsdon, had died in her arms when the rejoicings for +its birth were scarcely over. But he felt grateful to her for speaking +to him so frankly, and his new position looked the more satisfactory now +he knew that no shadow of wrong was done to any one by his occupying it.</p> + +<p>Lady Dighton understood this perfectly well. She had a quick perception +of the character and feelings of those she associated with; and had +talked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> to Maurice intentionally of what she guessed he must wish to +hear. She had a great deal more to say to him, still, about her +grandfather and her husband, and the country; and wanted to ask +questions innumerable about his former home in Canada, his mother, and +everything she could think of, the discussion of which would make them +better acquainted. For she had quite decided that, as she said, they +were to be very good friends; and, to put all family interest and ties +on one side, there was something not disagreeable in the idea of taking +under her own peculiar tutelage a young and handsome man, who was quite +new to the world, and about entering it with all the prestige which +attends the heir of fifteen or twenty thousand a year.</p> + +<p>They were still talking busily when Mr. Beresford's man came to say that +his master was awake. They went in together and sat with him for the +rest of the afternoon, until it was time for Lady Dighton to go. When +she did, it was with a promise from Maurice, not to wait for a visit +from Sir John, who was always busy, but to go over and dine at Dighton +very soon; a promise Mr. Beresford confirmed, being in his heart very +glad to see such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> friendly relations springing up between his two +grandchildren. Maurice, on his side, was equally glad, for not only did +his new friendship promise pleasure to himself, but he had a secret +satisfaction in thinking how well his cousin and Lucia would get on +together if—</p> + +<p>But then the recollection that he had left Cacouna in possession of Mr. +Percy came to interrupt the very commencement of a day dream.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + + +<p>Maurice paid his visit to Dighton—paid two or three visits, indeed—and +his cousin came to Hunsdon still oftener, so that in the course of a few +weeks, a considerable degree of intimacy grew up between them. Sir John +was, as his wife said, always busy; he was hospitable and friendly to +his new connection, but in all family or social matters he was content, +and more than content, to drop into the shade, and let Lady Dighton act +for both; so that Maurice, like the rest of the world (always excepting +his constituents and tenants), very soon began to consider him merely as +an appendage, useful, certainly, but not of much importance to anybody.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the progress of their acquaintance it was natural that the cousins +should often speak of Canada. Lady Dighton understood as little, and +cared as little, about the distant colony as English people generally +do; but she had considerable curiosity as to Maurice's past life; and in +her benevolent efforts to improve and polish him, she was obliged to +recognize the fact that, loyal Englishman as he was by birth, education +and association, he might have said truly enough,</p> + +<p>"Avant tout, je suis Canadien."</p> + +<p>She had no objection whatever to this; on the contrary, she had enough +romance in her disposition to admire all generous and chivalric +qualities, and her cousin's patriotism only made her like him the +better; but in spite of his frankness in most things, she had no idea +that this affection for his native country was linked to and deepened by +another kind of love. Lucia's name had never passed his lips, and she +had no means of guessing how daily and hourly thoughts of one fair young +Canadian girl were inseparably joined to the very roots of every good +quality he possessed. This ignorance did not at all arise from want of +interest. Her feminine imagination, naturally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> fertile on such subjects, +soon began to occupy itself with speculations in which every eligible +young lady in the country figured in turn. It was not to be supposed +that the heir of Hunsdon would find much difficulty in obtaining a wife; +the really embarrassing task for his mentors was to see that he looked +in the proper direction. And in this matter Mr. Beresford was not wholly +to be trusted. So, as it happened, Lady Dighton began to take a great +deal of perfectly useless thought and care for Maurice's benefit, at the +very time when he, all unconscious of her schemes, was beginning to +consider it possible that he might confide to her the secret of his +anxious and preoccupied thoughts.</p> + +<p>It happened that Mr. Leigh, unaware of the deep interest his son took in +the movements of Mr. Percy, only mentioned him in describing Bella +Latour's wedding, and omitted to say a word about his leaving Cacouna. +Thus it was not until three weeks after his arrival in England that a +chance expression informed Maurice that his dangerous rival was gone +away, without giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he had been +dismissed and was not likely to return. The same mail which brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +this half intelligence, brought also a letter from Mrs. Costello, which +spoke of her own and Lucia's removal as a thing quite settled, though +not immediate, and left the place of their destination altogether +uncertain. These letters threw Maurice into a condition of discomfort +and impatience, which he found hard to bear. He was extremely uneasy at +the idea of his father being left without companion or nurse. This +uneasiness formed, as it were, the background of his thoughts, while a +variety of less reasonable, but more vivid, anxieties held a complete +revel in the foreground. He had not even his old refuge against +troublesome fancies; for work, real absorbing work, of any kind was out +of the question now. His attendance on his grandfather, though often +fatiguing enough, was no occupation for his masculine brain. If he had +been a woman, he would have had a far better chance of imprisoning his +mind as well as his body, in that sober, undisturbed, sick room; but +though he could be almost as tender as a woman, he could not school +himself into that strange kind of feminine patience, which even Lucia, +spoiled child as she was, instinctively practised and grew strong in, +while she tended his father.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<p>He found himself perpetually losing the thread of some relation or +dissertation which was intended for his benefit, and that of Hunsdon +under his rule; he ran serious risk of displeasing Mr. Beresford, and +finally he became so weary of thinking incessantly of one subject, but +never speaking of it, that he made up his mind to take his cousin to +some degree into his confidence. To some degree only—it could be a very +small degree indeed, according to his ideas, for he could not tell her +all, even of the little he knew, about the Costellos, and he had no +intention of speaking much about Lucia, only mentioning her as an old +playfellow of his sister's; quite forgetting that he would have either +to change his own nature, or to dull Lady Dighton's ears and eyes, +before he could talk of <i>her</i>, and not betray himself.</p> + +<p>But a good opportunity for this confidence seemed hard to find, and +whenever one did really occur Maurice let it slip, so that time passed +on, and nothing was said; until at last, a new trouble came, so heavy +and incomprehensible as entirely to eclipse the former ones.</p> + +<p>One morning, about six weeks after his arrival at Hunsdon, there arrived +for Maurice two Canadian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> letters and a newspaper; the letters from his +father and Mrs. Costello, the newspaper addressed by Harry Scott. +Maurice dutifully opened Mr. Leigh's letter first; he meant just to see +that all was well, and then to read the other; but the news upon which +his eye fell, put everything else for the moment out of his head. He +glanced half incredulously over what his father said, and then tore open +the newspaper to seek for its confirmation. He had not far to seek. Two +columns of the thin provincial sheet were scored with black crosses, and +bore the ominous heading, "Dreadful Murder!" in the largest capitals. He +read the whole terrible story through, and thought, as well as he could, +over it, before he remembered the second and still unopened letter.</p> + +<p>But no sooner had he opened and read this, than the news which had just +before seemed to bring the most fearful realities of life and death so +near to him, faded away almost out of his recollection to make way for +the really personal interest of this calamity. Mrs. Costello wrote,</p> + +<p>"I have done wrong; and I should feel more difficulty, perhaps, in +asking you to forgive me, if I did not, with you, have to regret the +bitter disap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>pointment of my hopes and wishes. You and Lucia must not +meet again, unless, or until, you can do so without any thought of each +other except as old playfellows and friends. This sounds cruel, I know, +and unreasonable,—all the more so after the confidence there has been +between us lately; but you must believe me when I say that I have tried, +more than I ought, to keep for myself the consolation of thinking that +my darling would some day be safe in your care, and that this +consolation has been torn from me. But what can I say to you? My dear +boy, only less dear to me than Lucia, I know you will, you <i>must</i>, blame +me, and yet it is for your sake and for that of my own honour that I +separate you from us. You have a right that I should say more, hard as +it is. My daughter, whom you have known almost all her innocent life, +would, if you married her, bring, through those most nearly and +inseparably connected with her, a stain and a blot upon your name; no +honourable man can ever make her his wife, and the best prayer that can +be made for her is, that she may remain as unconscious of all earthly +love as she is now of yours. We are going away, not just yet, but very +soon, to try to lose ourselves in the world; very possibly an +explanation of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> much that I have not courage to tell you may soon become +so public that even in England you may hear of it, and thank me for what +I have written."</p> + +<p>The letter broke off abruptly, but there was a postscript reminding him +that no one, not even his father, knew more, or, indeed, as much as he +did, of her secret, and bidding him not betray her; this postscript, +however, remained at first unnoticed: there was enough in the letter +itself to bewilder and stupefy its unfortunate reader. He went over it +again and again, trying, trying to understand it; to make certain that +there was not some strange mistake, some other meaning in it than that +which first appeared. But no; it was distinct enough, though the writing +was strangely unsteady, as if the writer's hand had trembled at the +task. The task of doing what? Only of destroying a hope; and hope is not +life, nor even youth, or strength, or sense, or capacity for work, and +yet when Maurice rose from his solitary breakfast-table, and carried his +letters away to his own room, although he looked and moved, and even +spoke to a passing servant just as usual, he felt as if he had been +suddenly paralysed, and struck down from vigorous life into the shadow +of death. He sat in his room and tried to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> think, but no thoughts came; +only a perpetual reiteration of the words, "You and Lucia must not meet +again." Over and over, and over again, the same still incomprehensible +sentence kept ringing in his ears. It was much the same thing as if some +power had said to him, "You must put away from you, divorce, and utterly +forget, all your past life; all your nature, as it has grown up, to this +present time; and take a different individuality." The two things might +equally well be said, for they were equally impossible. He laughed as +this idea struck him. His senses were beginning to come back, and they +told him plainly enough that any separation from Lucia, except by her +own free choice and will, was as impossible as if they were already +vowed to each other "till death us do part." There was so much comfort +in this conviction that at last he was able to turn to the latter part +of the letter, and to occupy himself with that mysterious yet terrible +sentence, which said that Lucia, his purest and loveliest of women, whom +all his long intimacy had not been able to bring down from the pedestal +of honour and tender reverence on which his love had placed her, would +bring a blot upon her husband's name.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the first place, he simply and entirely refused to believe in the +truth of the assertion; it was a fancy, an exaggeration at the least, +and in itself, not a thing to be troubled at; but allowing that the idea +could not have existed in her mother's mind without some foundation, +what could that foundation be? To consider with the most anxious +investigation everything he knew of the Costellos, their life, their +characters, their history, brought him some comfort, but no +enlightenment. He supposed, as all Cacouna did, that Mrs. Costello was +the widow of a Spaniard, and that her husband had died when Lucia was an +infant, but how to make any of these scanty details bear upon the fact +that now, lately, since he himself had left Cacouna, something had +happened, either unforeseen, or only partly foreseen by Mrs. Costello, +which brought disgrace and misery upon her and her child, he did not in +the least understand. Personal disgrace, the shadow of actual ill-doing, +resting upon either mother or daughter, was too utterly improbable a +thought ever even to enter his mind; but what the trouble could be, or +whence it came, he seemed to be less and less capable of imagining, the +more he thought and puzzled over the matter. And the hint that +by-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>and-by the mystery might be unravelled, not only to him, but to the +whole world, was far from giving him comfort. Rather than have Lucia's +name dragged out for vulgar comment, he would have been content to let +her secret remain for ever undiscovered; and besides, this unwelcome +revelation promised to come too late, when the Cottage was empty and its +dearly loved occupants were gone far away out of his very knowledge.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for Maurice, Mr. Beresford was later than usual in leaving +his room that day, so that he had two hours in which to grow at least a +little accustomed to his new perplexities before he had to attend his +grandfather in the library. Even when he did so, however, he found it +impossible to force his thoughts into any other channel, and his brain +worked all day painfully and fruitlessly at schemes for finding out Mrs. +Costello's secret, and demonstrating to her that far from its being a +reason for depriving him of Lucia, it was an additional reason for +giving her to him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + + +<p>Maurice tried to relieve his impatience by spending the very first half +hour when he was not required to sit with his grandfather, in writing to +Mrs. Costello. If the Atlantic telegraph had but been in operation she +might have been startled by some vehement message coming in immediate +protest against her decision; but as it was, the letter which could not, +at the very best, reach her in much less than a fortnight, was full of +fiery haste and eagerness. As for reason or argument, it made no attempt +at either. It began with a simple unqualified declaration that what she +had said was, as far as it regarded Maurice himself, of no value or +effect whatever, that he remained in exactly the same mind as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> when he +left Canada, and that nothing whatever would alter him, except Lucia's +preference for some other person. He went on to say that he could still +wait, but that as the strongest purpose of his life would be to give +Lucia the choice of accepting or refusing him as soon as he had a home +to offer her, it was needless unkindness to try to conceal her from him. +Wherever she might be, he should certainly find her in the end, and he +implored her mother to spare him the anxiety and delay of a search. +Finally he wrote, "I cannot understand in the least what you can mean by +the reason you give for casting me off, but you seem to have forgotten +that if any disgrace (I hate to use the word), either real or imaginary, +has fallen upon you, it is the more and not the less needful that you +should have all the help and support I can give you. That may not be +much, but such as it is I have a right to offer it, and you to accept +it."</p> + +<p>The letter wound up with the most urgent entreaties that she would +answer it at once, and give up entirely the useless attempt to separate +him from Lucia; and when it was finished and sent off, quite regardless +of the fact that it would have left England just as soon if written two +days later, he began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> to feel a little comforted, and as if he had at +any rate put a stop to the worst evil that threatened him.</p> + +<p>But the relief lasted only a few hours. By the next day he was +tormenting himself with all the ingenuity of which he was capable, and +the task of amusing Mr. Beresford was ten thousand times harder than +ever. He did it, and did it better than usual, but only because he was +so annoyed at his own anxiety and absence of mind that he set himself +with a sort of dogged determination to conquer them, or at any rate keep +them out of sight. The more, however, that he held his thoughts shut up +in his own mind, the more active and troublesome they became, and an +idea took possession of him, which he made very few efforts to shake +off, though he could not at first see clearly how to carry it into +execution.</p> + +<p>This idea was that he must return to Canada. He thought that one hour of +actual presence would do more for his cause than a hundred letters—nay, +he did not despair of persuading Mrs. Costello to bring Lucia to +England, where he could keep some watch and guard over them both; but, +at any rate, he had a strong fancy that he might at once learn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> the +secret of her distress himself, and help her to keep it from others. He +calculated that six weeks' absence from Hunsdon would enable him to do +this, and at the same time to make arrangements for his father's comfort +more satisfactory than the present ones. The last inducement was, of +course, the one he meant to make bear the weight of his sudden anxiety, +and after much deliberation, or what he thought was deliberation, he +decided that the first thing to be done was to interest his cousin in +his plans and try to get her help.</p> + +<p>But as it happened, Lady Dighton was just at that moment away from home. +She and Sir John were staying at a house which, though nearer to Hunsdon +than to their own home, was a considerable distance for morning +visitors, even in the country. Still Maurice, who had some acquaintance +with the family, thought he might ride over and see her there, and take +his chance of being able to get an opportunity of explaining the service +he wanted her to do him. However, a slight increase of illness in Mr. +Beresford prevented him from getting away from home, and he was obliged +to wait with what patience he could for her next visit to Hunsdon.</p> + +<p>Mr. Beresford's health appeared to return to its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> usual condition, and +grateful for the comfort Maurice's presence had been to him during his +greater suffering, he seemed to be every day more satisfied with and +attached to his heir. The disadvantage of this was that he required more +and more of Maurice's company, and seemed to dislike sparing him a +moment except while he slept. This was not promising for the success of +any scheme of absence, but, on the other hand, there was so much of +reason and consideration for his grandson, mixed with the invalid's +exactions, that it seemed not hopeless to try to obtain his consent.</p> + +<p>After an interval of more than a week, Lady Dighton reappeared at +Hunsdon, and Maurice's opportunity arrived. It was during their +invariable <i>tête-à-tête</i> while Mr. Beresford slept that the wished-for +conversation took place, and Lady Dighton unconsciously helped her +cousin to begin it by telling him laughing that she had been looking out +for a wife for him, and found one that she thought would do exactly.</p> + +<p>"You must contrive by some means or other," she said, "to get away from +Hunsdon a little more than you have been doing, and come over to Dighton +for a day or two, that I may introduce you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wish with all my heart," he answered quickly, "that I could get away +from Hunsdon for a little while, but I am afraid I should use my liberty +to go much further than Dighton."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with surprise.</p> + +<p>"I did not know," she said, "that you had any friends in England except +here."</p> + +<p>"I have none. What I mean is that I want to go back to Canada for a week +or two."</p> + +<p>"To Canada! The other side of the world! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing very unreasonable. I am very uneasy about my father, who is +almost as great an invalid as my grandfather, and has no one but an old +housekeeper to take care of him. I should like to go and bring him to +England."</p> + +<p>It was very well for Maurice to try to speak as coolly as possible, and +even to succeed in making his voice sound perfectly innocent and +natural, but he was of much too frank a nature to play off this little +piece of dissimulation without a tell-tale change of countenance. Lady +Dighton's sharp eyes saw quite plainly that there was something untold, +but she took no notice of that for the present, and answered as if she +saw nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have you worse accounts of his health?"</p> + +<p>"No; not worse. But he will be quite alone."</p> + +<p>"More alone than when you first left him? I do not quite understand."</p> + +<p>"Yes; some very near neighbours—old friends of his and my mother's—are +going to leave Cacouna. I had no reason to be uneasy about him while +they were there. Do you think my grandfather could be persuaded to spare +me for six weeks?"</p> + +<p>"Not willingly, I think. Could not my uncle come home without your +going?"</p> + +<p>Maurice felt as if he were caught in his own trap, but he recollected +himself in a moment.</p> + +<p>"There would be many things to do," he said. "Affairs to settle, the +farm to sell or let, and the household, small as it is, to break up."</p> + +<p>Lady Dighton laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"And you imagine that you could do all that, and carry your father off +besides, in the space of a fortnight, which is the very utmost you could +possibly have out of your six weeks! Really, Maurice, I gave you credit +for more reasonableness."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt I could do it," he said, a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> vexed, "and of +course I should try to get back as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>"Well, let me see if I cannot suggest something a little more +practicable. Is there no person who would undertake the management of +the mere business part of the arrangements?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Maurice answered a little reluctantly. "I dare say there is."</p> + +<p>"As for the breaking up of the household, I should think my uncle would +like to give the directions himself, and I do not see what more you +could do; and for anything regarding his comfort, could not you trust to +those old friends you spoke of?"</p> + +<p>Maurice shook his head impatiently.</p> + +<p>"They are going away—for anything I know, they may be gone now. No, +Louisa, your schemes are very good, but they will not do. I must go +myself; that is, if I can."</p> + +<p>"And the fact of the matter is that you want me to help you to persuade +grandpapa that he can spare you."</p> + +<p>"Will you help me? I know it will be hard. I would not ask him if I were +not half wild with anxiety."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lady Dighton looked at her cousin's face, which was indeed full of +excitement.</p> + +<p>"What a good son you are, Maurice," she said slowly.</p> + +<p>Maurice felt the blood rush to his very temples.</p> + +<p>"I am a dreadful humbug," he said, feeling that the confession must +come. "Don't be shocked, Louisa; it is not altogether about my father, +but I tell you the truth when I say that I am half wild."</p> + +<p>She smiled in a sort of satisfied, self-gratulatory way, and said, +"Well," which was just what was needed, and brought out all that Maurice +could tell about the Costellos. He said to himself afterwards that he +had from the first been half disposed to confess the whole story, and +only wanted to know how she was likely to take it; but the truth was +that, being as utterly unskilful as man could be in anything like +deception, he had placed himself in a dilemma from which she only meant +to let him extricate himself by telling her what was really in his mind.</p> + +<p>So Lady Dighton made her first acquaintance with Lucia, not, as Maurice +had dreamed of her doing, in bodily presence, but through the golden +mist of a lover's description; in the midst of which she tried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> to see a +common-place rustic beauty, but could not quite succeed; and half +against her will began to yield to the illusion (if illusion it was) +which presented to her a queenly yet maidenly vision, a brilliant flower +which might be worth transplanting from the woods even to the stately +shelter of Hunsdon. It was clear enough that this girl, whatever she +might be, had too firm a hold upon Maurice's heart to be easily +displaced; and his cousin, not being altogether past the age of romance +herself, gave up at once all her vague schemes of match-making in his +service, and applied herself to the serious consideration how to obtain +from her grandfather the desired leave of absence.</p> + +<p>She did not, of course, understand all the story. The impression she +derived from what Maurice told her was that Mrs. Costello, after having +encouraged the intimacy and affection between her daughter and him up to +the time of his great change of position and prospects, had now thought +it more honourable to break off their intercourse, and carry her child +away, lest he should feel bound to what was now an unequal connection. +This idea of Lady Dighton's arose simply from a misconception of +Maurice's evident reserve in certain parts of his confidence. <i>He</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +thought only of concealing all Mrs. Costello would wish concealed; and +<i>she</i> dreamt of no other reason for the change of which he told her, +than the very proper and reasonable one of the recent disparity of +fortune.</p> + +<p>Maurice was so delighted at finding a ready ally that the moment his +cousin signified her willingness to help him, he began to fancy his +difficulties were half removed, and had to be warned that only the first +and least important step had been taken.</p> + +<p>"In the next place," Lady Dighton said, "we must consult Dr. Edwards."</p> + +<p>"What for," asked Maurice in some perplexity.</p> + +<p>"To know whether it would be safe to propose to my grandfather the loss +of his heir."</p> + +<p>"But for six weeks? It is really nothing."</p> + +<p>"Nothing to you or me perhaps, but I am afraid it is a good deal to him, +poor old man."</p> + +<p>"Louisa, I assure you, I would not ask him to spare me for a day if it +were not a thing that must be done now, and that I should all my life +regret leaving undone."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with an amused smile. People in love do so overrate +trifles; but she was really of opinion that he should go if possible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I understand that. And I do not myself see any +particular cause for delaying since it must be done. But still I think +it would be well to ask the Doctor's opinion first."</p> + +<p>"That is easy at any rate. He will be here to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"And when do you wish to start?"</p> + +<p>"By the first mail. I would not lose an hour if I could help it."</p> + +<p>"You would frighten your father to death. No, you must wait a week +certainly."</p> + +<p>"I wish I were certain of being off in a week."</p> + +<p>"Unreasonable boy! You talk of going across the Atlantic as other people +do of going across the Channel. See, there is Brown, grandpapa must be +awake."</p> + +<p>They went into the library and found Mr. Beresford quite ready for an +hour or two of cheerful chat about the thousand trifles with which his +granddaughter always contrived to amuse him. Then she went away, turning +as she drove off to give Maurice a last encouraging nod; and not long +after, Mr. Beresford complained of being more drowsy than usual, and +asked Maurice to read him to sleep.</p> + +<p>A book, not too amusing, was found, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> reading began; but the +reader's thoughts had wandered far from it and from Hunsdon, when they +were suddenly recalled by a strange gurgling gasping sound. Alas! for +Maurice's hopes. His grandfather lay struggling for the second time in +the grasp of paralysis.</p> + +<p>They carried him to his bed, dumb and more than half unconscious; and +there day after day, and week after week, he lay between life and death; +taking little notice of anybody, but growing so restlessly uneasy +whenever Maurice was out of his sight, that all they thought of doing +was contriving by every possible means to save him the one disquiet of +which he still seemed capable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + + +<p>The day after that on which Mr. Strafford paid his first visit to the +jail at Cacouna, was the one fixed for Doctor Morton's funeral. Lucia +knew that other friends would be with Bella, and was thankful to feel +herself at liberty to stay at home—to be with her mother up to the +moment of her going to that interview which Mr. Strafford advised, and +to be on the spot at her return to hear without delay whatever its +result might be.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, while the whole town was occupied with the ceremony +which had so deep and painful an interest for everybody, Mrs. Costello +and her faithful friend started for the jail. They said little to each +other on the way, but as they drew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> near the end of their walk, Mrs. +Costello began to talk about indifferent subjects by way of trying to +lift for a moment the oppressive weight of thought which seemed almost +to stupefy her. But the effort was to little purpose, and by the time +they reached the door of the prison she was so excessively pale, and +looked so faint and ill, that Mr. Strafford almost repented of his +advice. It was too late now, however, to turn back, and all that could +be done was to say, "Take courage; don't betray yourself by your face." +The hint was enough, to one so accustomed to self-restraint; and when +the jailer met them, she had forced herself to look much as usual.</p> + +<p>But though she had sufficient command over herself to do this, and even +to join, as much as was necessary, in the short conversation which took +place before they were admitted to the prisoner's cell, she could not +afterwards remember anything clearly until the moment when she followed +Mr. Strafford through a heavy door, and found herself in the presence of +her husband.</p> + +<p>Then she seemed suddenly to wake, and the scene before her to flash at +once and ineffaceably into her mind. It was a clean bare room, with a +bed in one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> corner, and a chair and table in the middle; the stone +walls, the floor and ceiling, all white, and a bright flood of sunshine +coming in through the unshaded window. Sitting on the only chair, with +his arms spread over the table, and his head resting on them, was the +prisoner. His face was hidden, but the coarse, disordered dress, the +long hair, half grey, half black, lying loose and shaggy over his bony +hands, the dreary broken-down expression of his attitude, made a picture +not to be looked upon without pity. Yet the thing that seemed most +pathetic of all was that utter change in the man which, even at the +first glance, was so plainly evident. This visitor, standing silent and +unnoticed by the door, had come in full of recollections, not even of +him as she had seen him last, but of him as she had married him twenty +years ago. Of <i>him?</i> It seemed almost incredible—yet for the very sake +of the past and for the pitiful alteration now, she felt her heart yearn +towards that desolate figure, and going softly forward she laid her hand +upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Christian!" she said in a low and trembling voice.</p> + +<p>The prisoner slowly moved, as if waking from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> a doze. He raised his +head, pushed back his tangled hair and looked at her.</p> + +<p>What a face! It needed all her pity to help her to repress a shudder; +but there was no recognition in the dull heavy eyes.</p> + +<p>"Christian," she repeated. "See, I am your wife. I am Mary, who left +Moose Island so many years ago."</p> + +<p>Still he looked at her in the same dull way, scarcely seeming to see +her.</p> + +<p>"Mary," he repeated mechanically. "She went away." Then changing to his +own language, he said with more energy, "She is hidden, but I shall find +her; no fear," and his head sank down again upon his arm.</p> + +<p>His wife trembled as she heard the old threat which had pursued her for +so long, but she would not be discouraged. She spoke again in Ojibway,</p> + +<p>"She is found. She wants to help and comfort her husband. She is here. +Raise your head and look at her."</p> + +<p>He obeyed, and looked steadily at her, but still with the look of one +but half awake.</p> + +<p>"No," he said slowly. "All lies. Mary is not like you. She has bright +eyes, and brown hair,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> soft and smooth like a bird's wing. I beat her, +and she ran away. Go! I want to sleep."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford came forward.</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten me, too, Christian?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Christian turned to him with something like recognition.</p> + +<p>"No. You were here yesterday. Tell them to let me go away."</p> + +<p>"It is because I want to persuade them to let you go, that I am here +now, and your—this lady, whom you do not remember, also."</p> + +<p>"What does a squaw know? Send her away."</p> + +<p>A look passed between the two friends, and the wife moved to a little +distance from her husband, where she was out of his sight.</p> + +<p>"I wish," Mr. Strafford said, "you could tell me exactly what you were +doing the day they brought you here."</p> + +<p>"I was sleeping," Christian answered. "I lay under the bush, and went to +sleep; and then they came and woke me, and brought me here. I want air!" +he cried, suddenly changing his tone, and springing up, he rushed to the +grated window, and seemed to gasp for breath. The small lattice stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +open, but the prisoner, devoured by fever, could not be satisfied with +such coolness as came in through it. He seized the iron bars with +trembling hands and tried to shake them; then finding it useless, went +back to his chair, and covering his face, burst into tears.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was instantly at his side. In her strange, short married +life she had given no caresses to her tyrant; now, upon this miserable +wreck, she lavished all the compassionate tenderness of her heart. Mr. +Strafford stood by helpless, yielding to the woman her natural place of +comforter. For a moment, as she held his head upon her bosom and laid +her cool soft hand upon his burning forehead, Christian seemed to +recognize her; he looked up into her face piteously, and once or twice +repeated to himself, "Mary, Mary," but memory would not help him +further. She soothed him, however, much as if he had been some wretched +sick child, and after a time persuaded him to lie down on his bed, +where, almost immediately, he fell asleep.</p> + +<p>So they left him, and in going out, heard from the jailer that he often +slept thus for hours together—rarely eating, and asking only for water +and air.</p> + +<p>One thing had been effected by their visit. From<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> the moment when the +prisoner, powerless henceforward to hurt or terrify her, was supported +by his wife's arms, and soothed by her voice, she began to believe, +completely and for ever, in his innocence of the crime of which he was +accused, and to be ready to fight his battle with all her energy and all +her resources. Only the recollection of Lucia prevented her from +instantly avowing the relationship so long concealed; and in the first +warmth of a generous reaction, she almost regretted that she had not +sent her child away, even to England, that she might now be free to +devote herself to Christian. On their return to the Cottage they found +Lucia watching with feverish anxiety for their coming and their news; +but it was not until mother and daughter were shut up together in Mrs. +Costello's room that all could be told. Nor even then; for the wife's +heart had been too deeply touched; and not even her child could see into +its troubled tender depths. But, nevertheless, Lucia caught from her +mother the blessed certainty that, though man's justice might not clear +the prisoner of murder, heaven's did; and they rejoiced together over +this poor comfort, as if all the rest of their burden were easy to bear.</p> + +<p>Afterwards a council was held as to what could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> be done for Christian's +defence. All legal help possible must be obtained, they decided, at any +risk; but to the two women this did not seem enough. One of them, at +least, would have liked to try any scheme, however difficult or absurd, +for fixing the guilt upon the true criminal, and so saving the false +one; but so far from that, they must not even suffer their agitation and +keen interest to be noticed; the very lawyers must be engaged with +caution or bound to secrecy. As long as their secret <i>could</i> be kept, it +must. And Mr. Strafford could not remain at Cacouna. He had come +promptly to the help of the one unfortunate member of his flock, but the +little community on the island always felt his absence grievously, and +three or four days was the utmost he could spare at a time. Mrs. +Costello greatly desired to see her husband again, but to do so without +Mr. Strafford's presence was a trial from which she shrank, and which he +thought there was not sufficient reason for her to undergo. It was +decided therefore that he should make arrangements by which, and by the +kindness of the jailer, she should be kept constantly informed of his +condition of health, both mental and bodily. "If he should be either +worse in body or better in mind," she said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> "I shall go to him at once; +and I have a strong presentiment that he will need me before long."</p> + +<p>A separate consultation from which Lucia was excluded, ended in a +decision to which she would certainly not have consented, however she +might, later, be obliged to yield to it. This was, that if Mrs. Costello +should feel herself called upon to avow her marriage for her husband's +sake, Lucia should first be sent to England and confided to the care of +her mother's cousin, George Wynter, so that she, at least, might be +spared the hard task of facing her small familiar world under a new and +degraded character. But of this plan Lucia suspected nothing. Her +thoughts travelled as often as ever they had done, to that misty <i>terra +incognita</i> which Canadians still call "Home," for now Maurice was there, +and perhaps (but for that thought she reproved herself) Percy also; but +she had now wholly given up her dreams of visiting it, and most surely +would not have resumed them with the prospect of leaving her mother in +sorrow and alone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + + +<p>After a time of so much stress and excitement, there followed a pause—a +period of waiting, both for the mother and daughter at the Cottage, and +for the small world of Cacouna, which had been startled by the crime +committed in its very midst. As for the Costellos, when all the little +that they could do for the prisoner had been done, they had only to +occupy themselves with their old routine, or as much of it as was still +possible, and to try to bring their thoughts back to the familiar +details of daily life. Household affairs must be attended to; Mr. Leigh +must be visited, or coaxed out of his solitude to sit with them; other +visits must be paid and received, and reasons must be found to account<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +to their neighbours for the putting off of that journey which had +excited so much surprise in anticipation. And so, as days went on, habit +gradually came to their assistance, and by-and-by there were hours when +they asked themselves whether all the commotion and turmoil of the last +few weeks had been anything but a dream.</p> + +<p>Beyond the Cottage, too, life had returned to its usual even flow. One +household, it is true, was desolate; but that one had existed for so +short a time that the change in it had scarcely any effect on the +general current of daily affairs. Bella went away immediately after the +funeral. Mrs. Bellairs had begun to despair of rousing her from her +stupor of grief and horror, while she remained in the midst of all that +could remind her of her husband; and, therefore, carried her away almost +by force to the house of some relations near Toronto. When she came +back, it would be to return to her old place in her brother-in-law's +house, a pale, silent woman in widow's weeds, the very ghost of the gay +bride who had left it so lately.</p> + +<p>By Mrs. Morton's absence Lucia was relieved from her most painful task; +for, although she now no longer felt herself the daughter of the +murderer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> there was so much disingenuousness in her position as the +most loved and trusted friend of the woman who still regarded her father +as the criminal, as to make it in the highest degree irksome to be with +her. She now tried to occupy herself as much as possible at home; and +while she did so, the calm to which she had forced herself outwardly +began to sink into her heart, and she found, almost with surprise, that +former habits of thought, and old likes and dislikes, had survived her +mental earthquake, and still kept their places when the dust had +settled, and the <i>debris</i> were cleared away. One old habit in particular +would have returned as strongly as ever, if circumstances had +allowed—it was that of consulting and depending on Maurice in a +thousand little daily affairs. Since the first two days of his absence +there had been until now so constant a rush and strain of events and +emotions, that she had not had time to miss him much; on the contrary, +indeed, she had had passing sensations of gladness that he was not near +at certain crises to pierce with his clear eyes and ready intuition, +quite through the veil of composure which she could keep impervious +enough to others. But now that the composure began to be more than a +mere veil, and that her whole powers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> were no longer on the full stretch +to maintain it; now, too, when everything outwardly went on the same as +it had done three months ago, before Mr. Percy came to Cacouna, or the +story of Christian had been told; now, she wanted the last and strongest +of all old habits to be again practicable, and to see her old companion +again at hand. She remained, however, totally unsuspicious of all that +had passed between her mother and Maurice. She even fancied, sometimes, +that Mrs. Costello did Maurice the injustice of believing him changed by +the change of his circumstances, and that her affection for him had in +consequence cooled.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said to herself, "if he were here now, and with us as +he used to be, we should always have the feeling that by-and-by, when +the truth comes to be known, or when we go away, we should have to part +with him. But, still, it would be nice to have him. And I do not believe +that, <i>at present</i>, he is changed towards us. Mr. Leigh thinks he wants +to come back to Canada."</p> + +<p>So she meditated more and more on the subject, because it was free from +all agitating remembrances, and because Mrs. Costello was silent +regarding it; and if poor Maurice, chafing with impatience and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> anxiety +while he watched his helpless half-unconscious grandfather, could have +had a peep into her mind, he would have consoled himself by seeing that +little as she thought of the <i>kind</i> of affection he wanted from her, she +was giving him a more and more liberal measure of such as she had.</p> + +<p>A little while ago the same glimpse which would have consoled Maurice +might have comforted Mrs. Costello; but since she had begun to regard +Lucia as separated from him by duty and necessity, she rejoiced to think +that he had never held any other place in her child's heart than that to +which an old playfellow, teacher, and companion would under any +circumstances have a right. Her own altered conviction as to Christian's +guilt did not affect her feelings in this respect, for she knew that it +was too utterly illogical to have any weight with others; and +anticipating that even Maurice would be unable, were he told the whole +story, to share in it, she felt that as regarded him, guilt or unproved +innocence would be precisely the same thing; and that, however his +generosity might conceal the fact, Lucia would always remain in his +belief the daughter of a murderer. To suffer her child to marry him +under these circumstances was not to be thought of, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> if Lucia +herself would consent; so, in spite of the half-frantic letters which +Maurice found time to despatch by every mail, and in which he used over +and over again every argument he could think of to convince her that +whatever her difficulties might be, she had no right to refuse what she +had once tacitly promised, she resolutely gave up, and put away from +her, the hopes she had long entertained, and the plans which had been +the comfort of her heart.</p> + +<p>It was settled, without anything definite being said on the subject, +that they were to remain at the Cottage until the Assizes, or just +before; so that Christian, in any need, might have help at hand. When +his trial was over, their future course would be decided,—or, rather, +Mrs. Costello's would, for it depended on the sentence. If that should +be "Not guilty," she would claim the unhappy prisoner at once, and take +him to some strange place where she could devote herself to caring for +him in that helplessness which renewed all his claims upon her. If it +were "Guilty," she would go immediately to the seat of Government and +never cease her efforts till she obtained his pardon. She felt no fear +whatever of succeeding in this—his wretchedness and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> imbecility would +be unanswerable arguments—no one would refuse to her the miserable +remnant of such a life.</p> + +<p>Lucia heard, and shared in arranging all these plans. She was still +ignorant that they were not intended to include herself, and Mrs. +Costello shrank from embittering the last months of their companionship +by the anticipations of parting. Thus they continued to live in the +tranquil semblance of their former happiness, while winter settled in +round them, and the time which must inevitably break up the calm drew +nearer and nearer.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs and her sister came back from their visit. Bella was still +silent and pale—still had the look of a person whom some sudden shock +has benumbed,—but she no longer shut herself up; and as much as their +deep mourning would allow, the household returned to their former +hospitable, cheerful ways. Mrs. Bellairs again came frequently to the +Cottage. She saw now, after her absence, a far greater change than she +had before realized, in both mother and daughter; and thinking that +variety and cheerful society were the best remedies, if not for both, +certainly for Lucia, she did all she could to drag the poor girl out, +and to force her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> into the company of those she most longed, but did not +dare, to avoid. There was one comfort; wherever Bella was, no allusion +to the murder could be made; but wherever she was not, Lucia constantly +heard such sayings as these:—</p> + +<p>"Yes, it has been mentioned in the <i>Times</i> even, such a peculiarly +horrid thing, you know, poor man." "Just like a savage. Oh! it's all +very well to talk of Indians being civilized, but I am quite convinced +they never are, really. And then, you see, the real nature breaks out +when they are provoked."</p> + +<p>Some more reasonable person would suggest, "But they say that at Moose +Island Mr. Strafford has done wonders;" and he answered,</p> + +<p>"Ah! 'they say.' It is so easy to <i>say</i> anything. Why, this very man, or +brute, comes from Moose Island!"</p> + +<p>"Does he? But, of course, there must be some bad. Let us ask Miss +Costello. She knows Mr. Strafford."</p> + +<p>And Lucia would have to command her face and her voice, and say, "I only +know by report. I believe Mr. Strafford's people are all more or less +civilized."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sometimes she would hear this crime used as an argument in favour of +driving the Indians further back, and depriving them of their best +lands, for the benefit of that white race which had generously left them +here and there a mile or two of their native soil; sometimes as a proof +that to care for or instruct them, was waste of time and money; +sometimes only as a text whereon to hang a dozen silly speeches, which +stung none the less for their silliness; and it was but a poor +compensation for all she thus suffered when some one would speak out +heartily and with knowledge, in defence of her father's people.</p> + +<p>She said not a word to her mother of these small but bitter annoyances; +only found herself longing sometimes for the time when, at whatever +cost, her secret might be known, and she be free. In the meantime, +however, Mrs. Bellairs guessed nothing of the result of her kindness; +for Lucia, feeling how short a time might separate her for ever from +this dear friend, was more affectionate than usual in her manner, and +had sometimes a wistful look in her beautiful eyes, which might mean +sorrow, either past or future, but had no shadow of irritation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford came up to Cacouna twice during<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> Christian's imprisonment. +The first time he found no particular change. A low fever still seemed +to hang about the prisoner, and his passionate longing for the free air +to be his strongest feeling. There was no improvement mentally. His +brain, once cultivated and active, far beyond the standard of his race, +seemed quite dead; it was impossible to make him understand either the +past or future, his crime (if he were guilty), or his probable +punishment. In spite of the feeling against him, there were charitable +men in Cacouna who would gladly have done what they could to befriend +him, but literally nothing could be done. Mr. Strafford left him, +without anything new to tell the anxious women at the Cottage.</p> + +<p>But the second time there was an evident alteration in the physical +condition of the prisoner. He scarcely ever moved from his bed; and when +he was with difficulty persuaded to do so, he tottered like a very old +and feeble man. Even to breathe the air which he still perpetually asked +for, he would hardly walk to the window; and there were such signs of +exhaustion and utter weakness, that it seemed very doubtful whether, +before the time of the Assizes, he would not be beyond the reach<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> of +human justice. Mr. Strafford went back to the Cottage with a new page in +her sorrowful life to tell to Mrs. Costello. To say that she heard with +great grief of the probable nearness of that widowhood which, for years +past, would have been a welcome release, would be to say an absurdity; +but, nevertheless, it is true that a deep and tender feeling of pity, +which was, indeed, akin to love, seemed to sweep over and obliterate all +the bitterness which belonged to her thoughts of her husband. She wished +at once to avow their relationship; and it was only Mr. Strafford's +decided opinion that to do so would be hurtful to Lucia and useless to +Christian, which withheld her. Clearly the one thing which he, unused to +any restraint, needed and longed for, was liberty; and even that, if it +were attainable, he seemed already too weak to enjoy. His ideas and +powers of recollection were growing still weaker with every week of +imprisonment, but nothing could be done—nothing but wait, with dreary +patience, for the time of the trial.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + + +<p>The time of the Assizes drew near, and Mrs. Costello looked forward to +it with feelings of mixed, but almost wholly painful, anticipation. She +was now in daily expectation of receiving a letter from her cousin, +which should authorize her to send Lucia at once to England, and she had +not yet dared to speak on the subject. She thought, with reluctance, of +sending her child to the neighbourhood of Chester, where her own youth +and unfortunate marriage might still be remembered, or, if almost +forgotten, would be readily called to mind by the singular beauty of the +half-Indian girl; and she doubted how far the only other arrangement +which suggested itself to her, that of placing her daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> at school, +might be practicable. She had, also, to add to her other perplexities, a +lurking conviction that, whenever Lucia did become aware of the plans +that had been made for her, those plans stood no small chance of being +entirely swept away; or, if carried out at all, that they would be +finally shaped and modified according to Lucia's own judgment and +affection for herself, of which two qualities she had for a long time +been having daily stronger proofs. But in whatever way she regarded the +future, it was full of difficulties and darkness; and she had no longer +either strength or courage to face these hopefully. The fainting fits +which had twice alarmed Lucia, and which she spoke of as trifling and +temporary indispositions, she herself knew perfectly well to be only one +of the symptoms of a firmly-rooted and increasing disease. She had taken +pains to satisfy herself of the truth; she knew that she might live for +years; and that, under ordinary circumstances, there was very little +fear of the immediate approach of death; but she knew, also, that every +hour of agitation or excitement hastened its steps; and how could she +hope to avoid either? The very effort to decide whether she ought to +part with her child, or to suffer her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> to remain and face the impending +revelations, was in itself an excitement in which life wasted fast.</p> + +<p>But in this, as in so many human affairs, forethought was useless; and +the course of events, over which so many weary hours of calculation had +been spent, was already tending in a direction wholly unthought of and +unexpected. The first indication of this was the increasing illness of +Christian.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Strafford returned to Moose Island, after his second stay at +Cacouna, he had begged Elton, the kind-hearted jailer, to send word to +Mrs. Costello if any decided change took place in the prisoner before +his return; and as she was known to be his friend and correspondent, +this attracted no remark, and was readily promised. A little more than a +fortnight before the expected trial, Elton himself came one day to the +Cottage, and asked for Mrs. Costello. She received him with an alarm +difficult to conceal, and, guessing his errand, asked at once if he had +a worse account of his prisoner to send to Mr. Strafford?</p> + +<p>"Well, ma'am," he answered, "I don't know whether to call it a worse +account or not, con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>sidering all things; but he is certainly very ill, +poor creature."</p> + +<p>"What is it? Anything new, or only an increase of weakness?"</p> + +<p>"Just that, ma'am. Always a fever, and every day less strength to stand +against it. The doctor says he can't last long in the way he's going +on."</p> + +<p>"And can <i>nothing</i> be done?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, he can't take food; and more air than he has we can't +give him. It is hard on those that have spent most of their lives out of +doors to be shut up anywhere, and naturally he feels stifled."</p> + +<p>"Do you say he takes no food?"</p> + +<p>"Next to none. It is not to say that he can't take the regular meals, +but we have tried everything we could think of, and it is all much the +same."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see him again. Can I do so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am. There need be no difficulty about that; but he knows +nobody."</p> + +<p>Elton got up to leave.</p> + +<p>"I will write to Mr. Strafford," Mrs. Costello said, "and meantime I +will come myself to-morrow, if you can admit me then."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly, ma'am, and I am much obliged to you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello sank back into her chair when he was gone, and covered her +face with her hands. Disease and death then would not wait for that +trial, to which she had looked as the inevitable first step towards the +prisoner's release. He was about perhaps to be emancipated in a speedier +way than by man's justice. But if so, would not he be always supposed +guilty? Would not the blot upon her and her child be ineffaceable? +Whether or not, he must not die alone, untended by those who were +nearest to him, and dependent on the charity and kindness of strangers. +She called Lucia, and told her what she had just heard.</p> + +<p>"I shall write to Mr. Strafford," she said, "and if there seems no +special reason for doing otherwise, I will wait for his coming before I +make any change; but if he cannot come just now, or if I should find it +needful for—for your father's sake, Lucia, our secret must be told at +once."</p> + +<p>At that word "your father" a sudden flush had risen to the cheeks of +both mother and child. They had both been learning lately to <i>think</i> of +the father and husband by his rightful titles, but this was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> perhaps the +first time he had been so spoken of; each felt it as the first step +towards his full recognition.</p> + +<p>Lucia was silent for a moment, and Mrs. Costello asked, "Do you think +that is being too hasty?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! <i>no</i>, mamma. I think it should be done at once. But you will let me +go with you?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-morrow, darling; perhaps afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I ought to go."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello in her turn was silent, thinking whether this new +emergency ought not to hasten the execution of her plans for Lucia. +Finally, she decided that it ought; but it was with some trepidation +that she began the subject.</p> + +<p>"I see plainly enough," she said, with an effort to smile, "that I ought +to go, and that my strongest duty at present will be at the jail, but I +am not so sure about you."</p> + +<p>"But you do not suppose that I shall let you wear yourself out while I +stay at home doing nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you to go away for a time."</p> + +<p>"Me! Away from you?"</p> + +<p>"Would it be so hard?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Impossible. I would not leave you for anything."</p> + +<p>"Not even to obey me, Lucia?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, <i>what</i> do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you to go for a little while to England, where you have so often +wished to go."</p> + +<p>"And in the meantime what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"At present you see how I shall be occupied. When the trial is over, I +hope to bring your father here and nurse him as long as he requires +nursing."</p> + +<p>"And then?"</p> + +<p>"Then we will be together somewhere; I do not yet know where."</p> + +<p>"And where am I to go in England?"</p> + +<p>"My cousin will take care of you for me. Remember, it is only for a +little while."</p> + +<p>"Have you been plotting against me long, mother?"</p> + +<p>"My child, I have been obliged to think of your future."</p> + +<p>"And you thought that I was a baby still—only an encumbrance, to be +sent away from you when you had other troubles to think of?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My best comforter, rather."</p> + +<p>"Well then, mother, I have my plan, which is better than yours, and more +practicable, too."</p> + +<p>"Mine is perfectly practicable; I have thought well of it."</p> + +<p>"It is impracticable; because I am not going to England, or indeed to +leave you at all."</p> + +<p>"But, Lucia, I have written to my cousin."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry, mamma, but I cannot help it. Indeed, I do not want to +be disobedient, or to vex you, but you must see that if I <i>did</i> go it +would only make us both wretched, and besides, it would not be <i>right</i>."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello sighed.</p> + +<p>"How not right?"</p> + +<p>"I think, mother, that when people know who we are—I mean when my +father comes here—there will be a great deal of speculation and gossip +about us all, and people will watch us very closely, and that it would +be better if when you bring him home, everything should be as if he had +never been away from us. Do you know what I mean?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I do," Mrs. Costello answered slowly. "You mean that when we +take him back, we should not seem to be ashamed of him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia hid her face against her mother's dress.</p> + +<p>"Oh! mamma, is it wrong to talk so? He is my father after all, and it +seems so dreadful; but indeed I shall try to behave like a daughter to +him."</p> + +<p>Yet even as she spoke, an irrepressible shudder crept over her with the +sudden recollection of the only time she had seen the prodigal.</p> + +<p>"My poor child!" and her mother's arm was passed tenderly round her, "it +is just that I wish to spare you."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked up steadily.</p> + +<p>"But ought I to be spared, mother? It seems to me that my duty is just +as plain as yours. Do not ask me to go away."</p> + +<p>"I am half distracted, darling, between trying to think for you and for +him. And perhaps all my thought for him may be useless."</p> + +<p>"At least, think only of him for the present."</p> + +<p>"If he should die before the trial?"</p> + +<p>"If he could only be cleared! Perhaps it would save him yet."</p> + +<p>"Yes. It seems to be imprisonment which is killing him; but nothing less +than a miracle could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> make any change now, and there are no miracles in +our days."</p> + +<p>"Ah! mamma, has not a miracle been worked already?"</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Only a little while ago remember how we thought and spoke of him—and +now—"</p> + +<p>"You are right, my child; but the agencies which have worked this +miracle are very earthly ones—pain and sorrow, and false accusation."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I think this is better than the old life of terror, and perhaps +hatred."</p> + +<p>"Far better, far better. Yes, through dark and painful means a better +end is coming. But it is hard to think that you must live through all +your life under the shadow of a supposed crime. For us who have sinned +life is nearly over, our punishment was just, and it will soon be ended. +It is you, my child, whom I have so tried to shield, who must bear the +heaviest penalty."</p> + +<p>"No, mother, do not think so. When all this is over we shall go away, +you and I, and be very happy together again; and the happiness will be +more equally balanced than it was in the old days when you had so much +care and I none. And then,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> if ever I am left alone, I shall go and be a +Sister of Charity or one of Miss Nightingale's nurses, and be too busy +and useful to be unhappy."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello stooped down and kissed her child's forehead.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might have had a brighter fate than that, darling. +Perhaps I thought more of seeing you a happy woman than a good one; but +if you are never to have the home I wished for you, you will find, at +any rate, that a single woman's life may be full of usefulness and +honour."</p> + +<p>Ah! that brighter fate! Mrs. Costello thought of Maurice, and sighed for +the loss to <i>two</i> lives. Lucia's heart still turned loyally to the one +lover who had claimed it, but both knew that the "brighter fate" was no +longer a possibility now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + + +<p>Lucia walked with her mother to the gates of the jail, but she could not +obtain permission to go any further. Although the proposal to send her +to England was, in fact, abandoned, there seemed no reason why she +should be brought sooner than was needful into contact with what could +not but be painful; and she was obliged to yield in this matter to her +mother's judgment.</p> + +<p>They parted, therefore, at the gates; and Mrs. Costello was admitted +without delay to the cell where Christian was confined. A cell, properly +speaking, it was not; for they had removed him since her former visit, +and he now occupied a good-sized room on the upper floor, which was +nearly as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> bare and as glaringly white as the other, but more airy. His +low wooden bedstead was drawn near to the window, which, cold as it was, +stood open, while a small box-stove, heated almost red hot, kept the +temperature of the room tolerably high. On the bed, partly dressed, and +wrapped in a blanket, lay the prisoner. He neither moved nor paid any +attention when his visitor came in, and she had time to see all the +change confinement and illness had made in him. And the change was, +indeed, startling. All the flush of intemperance had left his face, and +at this moment his fever had subsided also, and left him only the +natural dark but clear tint of his Indian blood; his hair had been +smoothly combed, and looked less grey than when it hung tangled and +knotted; his extreme weakness gave him an aspect of repose, which +brought back the ghost of his old self—something of the look of that +Christian who had been, to a girl's fancy, so fit a hero of romance.</p> + +<p>It was but a likeness, truly, shadowy and dim, but it seemed to bridge +over the interval—the long, long weary years since the hero changed +into the tyrant, and to make far easier that task of comforting and +helping which duty, and not love, had imposed.</p> + +<p>She came to his side, and still he did not notice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> her. His eyes were +fixed on the pale, grey, snowy sky, and he seemed deaf to the slight +sounds of her movements. She sat down and watched him silently. From the +first moment she knew that all, and more than all, Elton had said was +true. She saw death unmistakable, inevitable, and close at hand, and +reproached herself for not having come sooner. But in that strange calm +and stillness, even self-reproach seemed to be curbed and +repressed—even a quickened beating of the heart would have been out of +place. So they remained until fully half an hour had passed, when the +door of the room again opened; this time to admit the doctor.</p> + +<p>He was an elderly man, kind, busy, and quick in his words and motions. +He came in briskly, and looked rather surprised at seeing Mrs. Costello. +She only bowed, however, and drew back as he came towards the bedside. +He was followed into the room by the jailer's wife, who had +compassionately tended the prisoner ever since his illness increased.</p> + +<p>Christian seemed to wake from his stupor, or dream, at the sound of the +doctor's voice. He answered the questions put to him mechanically but +clearly, and with his old purity of accent and expression. The dialogue, +however, even with Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> Elton's comments, was but a short one, and as +soon as it was ended, Mrs. Costello came forward and stopped the doctor +on his way from the room.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me," she said in a low voice, "exactly what you think of +him?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her again with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"I am interested in the question," she went on, regulating her voice +with a painful effort. "I assure you it is not from mere curiosity I +ask."</p> + +<p>"He is very low, very low indeed; but allow me to say, this is not the +place for you."</p> + +<p>"I will not do myself any harm," she answered, with a faint smile; "you +shall not have any occasion to scold me."</p> + +<p>"How long have you been here?"</p> + +<p>"About half an hour. And you may feel my pulse if you like; it is +perfectly steady."</p> + +<p>She held out her wrist; the pulse was, in fact, quite regular, rather +more so than usual, and there was nothing to show that the sick room was +"not the place for her."</p> + +<p>"Now tell me," she said; "he is dying, is not he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Best thing that can happen to him, poor wretch."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't think he will live to be tried?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"More than doubtful."</p> + +<p>"But it is only a fortnight, and there seems to be no acute disease."</p> + +<p>"He would have a better chance of living if there were. He is completely +worn out—dying of exhaustion. It is a question if he lasts another +week."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, please, exactly what can be done for him."</p> + +<p>"Very little indeed. And Mrs. Elton is a good nurse."</p> + +<p>The same look of inquiry as before was in the doctor's face while he +gave this answer, and Mrs. Costello felt that some explanation was +necessary.</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt she is. But I knew him—knew something of him—many +years ago," she said; "and Mr. Strafford, the clergyman at Moose Island, +you know, confided him to my care."</p> + +<p>She spoke hurriedly, but without faltering, and the doctor was +satisfied. He told her briefly all that could be done for his patient, +and then went away, with a last warning not to stay too long.</p> + +<p>This short conversation had been carried on rapidly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> and in very low +tones. Mrs. Elton had left the room, and Christian seemed quite +unconscious of the presence of the speakers. When the doctor was gone, +his wife again came to his bedside, and seeing that he had not yet sunk +back quite into his former lethargic state, she laid her hand gently on +his without speaking.</p> + +<p>He did not move, but merely raised his languid eyes to her face. +Something there, however, seemed to fix them, and he lay looking at her +with a steady intent gaze, as if trying to recognise her.</p> + +<p>"Christian," she said very softly, with a trembling voice, "do you +remember me?"</p> + +<p>"I remember," he answered in a half whisper, "not you, but something +like you."</p> + +<p>"I am changed since then," she went on; "we are both changed, but we +shall be together again now."</p> + +<p>He was still watching her, and there seemed to be a clearer +consciousness in his gaze.</p> + +<p>"Are you Mary?" he asked after a moment.</p> + +<p>"I am Mary, your wife," she answered.</p> + +<p>"There was something else," he went on, slowly groping as it were for +broken memories of the past. "There was another."</p> + +<p>"Our child?" she asked, "Do you remember her?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; is she here?"</p> + +<p>"No. Would you like to see her?"</p> + +<p>"No matter. I lost you. Where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Near here. Forget that; now I shall not leave you again for long."</p> + +<p>"I am tired; I think I shall sleep."</p> + +<p>And the light began to fade out of his eyes, and the same kind of dull +insensibility, not sleep, crept over him again.</p> + +<p>She left him at last in much the same state as she found him; and after +a long talk with Mrs. Elton, who was at first a little inclined to be +jealous of interference, but came round completely after a while, she +left the jail and started for home.</p> + +<p>It was a dreary walk, through the snowy roads and under the +leaden-coloured sky. She had to pass through a part of the town which +lay close to the river, where the principal shops and warehouses stood. +Passing one of the shops, or as they were generally called, "stores," +she remembered some purchases she wanted to make, and went in. While she +was occupied with her business, some loud voices at the further end of +the store attracted her attention, and she was aware of a group of men +sitting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> upon barrels and boxes, and keeping up a noisy conversation, +mixed with frequent bursts of laughter.</p> + +<p>The store was not one of the best class even for Cacouna, but Mrs. +Costello had gone into it because it had a kind of "specialité," for the +articles she required. It was most frequented by rough backwoodsmen and +farmers, and to that class the noisy party seemed to belong. Some little +time was necessary to find from a back shop one of the things Mrs. +Costello asked for, and while she waited she could not help but hear +what these men were saying. A good many oaths garnished their speeches, +which, deprived of them, were much as follows:</p> + +<p>"You did not go into mourning, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Not I. Saved me a deal of trouble, <i>he</i> did."</p> + +<p>"You'll be turned out all the same, yet, I guess."</p> + +<p>"They have not turned me out yet. And if Bellairs tries that trick +again, I'll send my old woman and the baby to Mrs. Morton. That'll fix +it."</p> + +<p>There was a roar of laughter. Then,</p> + +<p>"They are sure to hang him, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"First hanging ever's been at Cacouna if they do."</p> + +<p>"I guess you'll be going to see him hung, eh, Clarkson?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon so; but it's time I was off."</p> + +<p>One of the speakers, a thickset, heavy-browed man, came down the store, +stared rudely at Mrs. Costello as he passed, and going out, got into a +waggon that stood outside, and drove away.</p> + +<p>At the same moment the shopman came back and wondered at his customer's +trembling hand as he showed her what he had brought. She scarcely +understood what he said. She had turned cold as ice, and was saying over +and over to herself, "The murderer, the murderer." She hurried to finish +her business and get out into the open air, for in the store she felt +stifled. She had never before seen, to her knowledge, this Clarkson, +whom she accused in her heart; and now his evil countenance, his harsh +voice and brutal laugh had thrown her into a sudden terror and tumult. +As she walked quickly along, she remembered a story she had heard of +him, when and how she scarcely knew, but the story itself came back to +her mind with singular distinctness.</p> + +<p>A poor boy, an orphan, had been engaged by Clarkson as a servant. Much +of the hard rough work about the kind of bush farm established by the +squatter, fell to his share; he was not ill fed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> for Mrs. Clarkson saw +to that, but his promised wages never were paid. The lad complained to +his few acquaintance that nearly the whole sum due to him for two years' +service was still in his master's hands, and though he dared not let +Clarkson know that he had complained, he took courage, by their advice, +to threaten him with the law. One day soon after this, Clarkson and his +servant were both engaged loading a kind of raft, or flat boat, with +various produce for market. A dispute arose between them, the boy fell +or was pushed overboard, and though the creek was quite shallow, and he +was known to be able to swim, he was never seen from that time.</p> + +<p>This was the story which had been whispered about until Mrs. Costello +heard it, and which now returned to her mind with horrible force. A +murderer, a double, a treble murderer—(for was not Christian dying from +the consequences of <i>his</i> guilt?); she felt at that moment no +resignation, but a fierce desire to push aside all the cruel, complete, +<i>false</i> evidence, and force justice to recognize the true criminal.</p> + +<p>"Coward that I am!" she cried in her heart. "But I will at least do what +I can. To-morrow I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> will let the truth about myself be known, and try +whether that cannot be made to help me to the other truth. To-morrow, +to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>She reached home exhausted, yet sustained by a new energy, and told +Lucia her story and her determination. To her, young and impatient of +the constant repression and concealment, this resolve was a welcome +relief; and they talked of it, and of the future together until they +half persuaded themselves that to restore to Christian his wife and +daughter would be but the beginning of a change which should restore him +both life and liberty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + + +<p>The arrival of letters at the Cottage was somewhat irregular and +uncertain. Mails from England and the States reached Cacouna in the +evening, and if a messenger was sent to the post-office the letters +could be had about an hour afterwards. Since Maurice had been in +England, the English mails were eagerly looked for, and Mr. Leigh never +failed to send at the very first moment when it was possible there might +be news of him. Lately Maurice's correspondence had been nearly equally +divided between his father and Mrs. Costello; and Mr. Leigh had wondered +not a little at the fretted impatient humour which showed itself plainly +at times in his share of the letters written in that silent and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> shadowy +sickroom at Hunsdon. But Maurice said nothing to him of the real cause +of his discontent—very little of his plan of returning to Cacouna; and +it was Mrs. Costello who received the notes which acted as safety valves +to his almost irrepressible disturbance of mind. He continued to send +her, once a week, a sheet full of persuasions and arguments which the +moment they were written seemed unanswerable, and the moment they were +despatched appeared puerile and worthless. Still they came, with no +other effect than that of making the recipient more and more unhappy, as +she perceived how her own mistake had helped to increase Maurice's +hopes, and to darken his life by their destruction.</p> + +<p>One of these letters arrived on the very evening of Mrs. Costello's +visit to the jail. It was shorter and more hurried than usual, and spoke +of Mr. Beresford being worse—so much worse that his granddaughter had +been sent for hastily, and, as every one supposed, for the last time; +but it was just as peremptory as any former one, in declaring that +nothing could or should prevent the writer from seeking for, and finding +Lucia wherever she might be, the moment he was free to leave England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello read this note with some uneasiness. She saw that on the +question which of two declining lives should waste fastest, much of the +future now depended. If death came first to the rich and well-born +Englishman, in his stately house, Maurice would be set at liberty, and +by his presence at Cacouna would add to her difficulties; if, to the +miserable prisoner who had been for so many years her terror and +disgrace, and was now thrown upon her care and pity, she should yet be +able to fly with Lucia and hide herself, not now indeed from an enemy, +but from too faithful a friend.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, however, since she had decided to make her marriage +known to all the little world of Cacouna, she began to feel that the +Leighs, both father and son, had a right to have the truth simply and +immediately from herself. She said nothing to Lucia that evening on this +subject, but after going to her room for the night, she sat down and +wrote a very brief but clear explanation of her secret, for Maurice; +adding only a few words of affectionate farewell, and an intimation that +it was better for all direct communication between them to cease with +this letter.</p> + +<p>Next morning at breakfast she told Lucia what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> she had done, saying +simply that she preferred writing to Maurice, to leaving him to find out +the truth by more indirect means; and added that she intended going at +once to Mr. Leigh's and making him her first confidant in Cacouna. Lucia +could only assent. <i>Somebody</i> must be the first to hear the story, and +who so fit as their old and dear friend?</p> + +<p>"If Maurice were but here!" she said, with a sigh, "he would be such a +comfort, I know, for nothing would make any change in him."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello echoed the sigh, but not the wish.</p> + +<p>"If he will but stay away!" she thought, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>She put on her bonnet as soon as breakfast was over, and walked slowly +up the lane to the farmhouse. Lucia watched her anxiously, and many +times during the next two hours went to the windows to see if she were +returning, but it was after twelve before she came, and then she looked +pale and exhausted from the morning's excitement.</p> + +<p>She lay down, however, at Lucia's entreaty, and by-and-by began to tell +her what had passed.</p> + +<p>In the first place Mr. Leigh had been utterly astonished. Through all +the years of their acquaintance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> the secret had been so well kept that +he had never had the smallest suspicion of it. Like all the rest of her +neighbours he had supposed Mrs. Costello a widow, whose married life had +been too unhappy for her to care to speak of it. The idea that this dead +husband was a Spaniard had arisen in the first place from Lucia's dark +complexion and black hair and eyes, as well as from the name her mother +had assumed; it had been, in fact, simply a fancy of the Cacouna people, +and no part of Mrs. Costello's original plan of concealment. It had +come, however, to be as firmly believed as if it had been ever so +strongly asserted, and had no doubt helped to save much questioning and +many remarks.</p> + +<p>All these ideas, firmly rooted in Mr. Leigh's mind, had taken some +little time to weed out; but when he heard and understood the truth, it +never occurred to him to question for a moment the wisdom or propriety +of her flight from her husband or of the means she had taken to remain +safe from him. He thought the part of a friend was to sympathize and +help, not to criticize, and after a few minutes' consideration as to how +help could best be offered, he asked whether she intended that very day +to claim her rightful post as Christian's nurse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I did intend to do so," she answered, "but for two or three reasons I +think I had perhaps better wait until to-morrow. Mr. Strafford may +possibly be here then."</p> + +<p>"You will be glad to have him with you," Mr. Leigh answered, "but it +seems to me that an old neighbour who has seen you every day for years, +might not be out of place there too. Will you let me go with you to the +jail?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Mr. Leigh! you cannot. You have not been out of the house for +weeks."</p> + +<p>"All laziness. Though indeed I could not pretend to walk so far. But we +can have Lane's covered sleigh, and go without any trouble."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello still protested; but in her heart she was perfectly well +aware that Mr. Leigh's presence would be a support to her in the first +painful moments when she must acknowledge herself the wife of a supposed +murderer—and more than that, of an Indian, who had become in the +imagination of Cacouna, the type and ideal of a savage criminal. So, +finally, it was arranged that she should be accompanied to the prison on +the following day by her two faithful friends (supposing Mr. Strafford +to have then arrived), and that in the meantime she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> should merely pay +her husband a visit without betraying any deeper interest in him than +she had shown already.</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh asked whether he should tell Maurice what he had himself just +heard, and in reply Mrs. Costello gave him the note she had written, and +asked him to enclose it for her.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was better and kinder to write to him myself," she said. +"It will be a shock to Maurice to know the real position of his old +playfellow."</p> + +<p>Mr. Leigh looked at her doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"It will be a surprise, no doubt," he said, "as it was to me, and he +will be heartily sorry not to be here now to show you both how little +change such a discovery makes. But do you know, Mrs. Costello, it has +struck me lately that there was something wrong either with you and +Maurice, or with Lucia and Maurice?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing wrong with either, I assure you. You know yourself," +she answered with a smile, "that Maurice never forgets to send us a note +by every mail."</p> + +<p>"That is true; but it does not altogether convince me; Maurice is +worried and unhappy about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> something, and yet I cannot make out that +there is anything in England to trouble him."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," Mrs. Costello said, as she rose, "except for Mr. +Beresford's illness I think he has everything he can reasonably wish +for—and more."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand to say good-bye, feeling a strong desire to get +away, and escape from a conversation which was becoming embarrassing. +Mr. Leigh took it and for one second held it, as if he wished to say +something more, but the feeling that he had really no ground but his own +surmises for judging of Maurice's relations with either Lucia or her +mother, checked him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello hurried home. She knew as well as if he had said so, that +her old friend guessed his son's attachment and was ready to sanction +it; she could easily understand the generous impulse which would have +urged him to offer to her and her child all the support and comfort +which an engagement between the two young people could be made to +afford; but she would not even trust herself to consider for a moment +the possibility of accepting a consolation which would cost the giver so +dear. Maurice, she felt, ought to marry an English-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>woman, his mother's +equal; and no doubt if he and Lucia could be kept completely apart for +two or three years, he would do so without reluctance; only nothing must +be said about the matter either by Mr. Leigh or to Lucia. As for her +daughter, the very circumstance which had formerly seemed most +unfavourable to her wishes was now her great comfort; she rejoiced in +the certainty that Lucia had never suspected the true nature or degree +of Maurice's regard. It was in this respect not to be much regretted +that Lucia still thought faithfully of Percy—not at all as of one who +might yet have any renewed connection with her life, but as of one dead. +The poor child, in spite of her premature womanliness, was full of +romantic fancies; while Percy was near her she had made him a hero; now +since his disappearance, she had found it natural enough to build him a +temple and put in it the statue of a god. And it was better that she +should mourn over a dead love, than that she should a second time be +tormented by useless hopes and fears.</p> + +<p>That afternoon Mrs. Costello and Lucia went together into Cacouna, +taking with them some small comforts for the invalid, but Lucia was not +yet per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>mitted to see him. She parted from her mother at the prison +door, and went to pay a visit to Mrs. Bellairs and Bella, the last time +she was ever likely to see them on the old frank and intimate footing. +Even now, indeed, the intimacy had lost much of its charm. She loved +them both more than ever, but the miserable consciousness of imposture +weighed heavily upon her, and seemed to herself to colour every word she +uttered. She did not stay long; and making a circuit in order to pass +the jail again, in hopes of meeting her mother, she walked sadly and +thoughtfully through the winter twilight towards home. In passing +through the town she noticed an unusual stir of people; groups of men +stood in the streets or round the shop doors talking together, but it +was a time of some political excitement, and the inhabitants of Cacouna +were keen politicians, so that there might be no particular cause for +that.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford was more than half expected at the Cottage that evening. +The boat might be in by five, and it was nearly that time when Lucia +reached home, so she took off her walking-things, and applied herself at +once to making the house look bright and comfortable to welcome him, +all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> the while listening with some anxiety for the sound of her mother's +return. But Mrs. Costello did not come, and Lucia began to think that +she must have gone to the wharf to meet Mr. Strafford, and that they +would arrive together. She made Margery bring in the tea-things, and had +spent no small trouble in coaxing the fire into its very brightest and +warmest humour, the chairs into the cosiest places, and the curtains to +hang so that there should not be the slightest suspicion of a draught, +when at last the welcome sound of the gate opening was heard, and she +ran to the door; there indeed stood Mr. Strafford, but alone.</p> + +<p>Lucia forgot her welcome, and greeted him with an exclamation of +surprise and disappointment; then suddenly recollecting herself, she +took him into the bright sitting-room and explained why she was +astonished to see him alone.</p> + +<p>"I came straight from the wharf," he said, "and have seen nothing of +Mrs. Costello, but I will walk back along the road and meet her."</p> + +<p>This, however, Lucia would not hear of.</p> + +<p>"Margery shall go a little way," she said; "mamma cannot be long now."</p> + +<p>So Margery went, while Mr. Strafford questioned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> Lucia as to all she +knew of Christian's condition. She told him, with little pauses of +listening between her sentences, for she was growing every moment more +uncontrollably anxious. At length both started up, for the tinkle of +sleigh bells was heard coming up the lane. Again Lucia flew to the door, +and opened it just as the sleigh stopped.</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" she cried, "are you there?" and to her inexpressible relief she +was answered by Mrs. Costello's voice.</p> + +<p>"But why are you so late?" was the next question.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you all presently. Pay the man, dear, and let him go. Or +stay, tell him to come for me at ten o'clock to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was sitting by the fire when Lucia came back from her +errand. She looked excessively pale and tired, but in her face and in +that of Mr. Strafford as he stood opposite to her there was a light and +flicker of strong excitement. Both turned to Lucia, and Mrs. Costello +held out her hand.</p> + +<p>Lucia came forward, and seeing something she could not understand, knelt +down by her mother's knee and said, "What is it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good news, darling, good news at last!" Mrs. Costello tried to speak +calmly, but her voice shook with this unaccustomed agitation of joy. "He +is innocent!" she cried, and covered her face with her hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + + +<p>It was long before the one single fact of Christian's innocence—proved, +unquestionable innocence—had become sufficiently real and familiar for +the mother and daughter to hear or to tell how the truth had come to +light, and the justice of Heaven been swifter and surer than that of +man. But at length all that Mrs. Costello knew was told; and in the deep +joy and thankfulness with which they saw that horrible stain of murder +wiped out, they were ready to forget even more completely than before, +all the disgrace which still clung to the miserable prisoner, and to +welcome him on his release with no forced kindness.</p> + +<p>"On his release? Ought he not to be with them now?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lucia asked the question.</p> + +<p>"He does not yet even know all," Mrs. Costello answered. "He is so +excessively weak that they dared not tell him till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, then, he will be here?"</p> + +<p>"No, that is impossible. There is much to be done first; but very soon I +hope."</p> + +<p>Yet both doubted in their hearts whether the shadow—ever deepening—of +approaching death could yet be so checked as to suffer the prisoner to +breathe the free air for which he pined.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the story was being told by every fireside in Cacouna with +more of wonder and of comment than by that one where it had the deepest +interest. And it was a tale that would be remembered and repeated for +years, though no living man could tell it all.</p> + +<p>That morning Clarkson had been for some hours at Cacouna. He had various +places to go to, and both sales and purchases to make, but he found +time, as usual, to visit more than one place where whisky was sold; and +when at last he drove out of the town, he had but just enough power of +self-control to keep himself from swaying about visibly as he sat in his +sleigh. He was in boisterous spirits,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> and greeted every acquaintance he +met with some rough jest—pointless but noisy—singing snatches of +songs, and flourishing his whip with an air of tipsy bravado. At a small +tavern near the sawmill he dismounted for the last time.</p> + +<p>It was a little after noon, and several of the men employed about the +mill were lounging round the stove in the tavern when Clarkson went in. +He found some of his own particular associates among the group, and, +being in a generous humour, he pulled out a dirty dollar-note and +ordered glasses round. These were followed by others; and when, after +another half-hour, he got into his sleigh again, he was quite beyond the +power of guiding his horse, or even of seeing where he was going. He was +more noisy than ever; and as he started off, some of his more sober +companions shouted warnings after him, and stood watching him as he +went, with a pretty strong feeling that he was not likely to reach home +safely.</p> + +<p>In fact, he had proceeded but a little way across the open plain where +Dr. Morton's body had been found when he took a wrong direction, and, +instead of keeping a tolerably straight line towards his own home, he +turned to the left, following a track which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> led to the water's edge, +and ran beside it, over broken and boggy ground, until after making a +semicircle it rejoined the principal road on the further side of the +plain. No sober man would have chosen this track, for it was heavy for +the horse, and was carried over several rough bridges across the large +drains which had lately been cut to carry off the water from the swamp. +The deep snow which had fallen, with little previous frost, lay soft and +thick over the whole ground; it covered the holes in the bridges, and so +choked up the drains that in many places they were completely concealed, +and what appeared to be a smooth level surface of ground might really be +a dangerous pitfall. Here, however, Clarkson chose to go. He flogged his +horse unmercifully, and the sleigh flew over the ground, scattering the +snow and striking every moment against some roughness of the road which +it concealed. They passed one of the drains safely, though the round +logs of which the bridge was formed shook and rattled under them; but +between that and the next, the tipsy driver turned quite out of the +track, and drove on at the same headlong pace towards the open trench. +At the very brink the horse stopped; he tried to turn aside, but a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +tremendous lash of the whip urged him on; he leaped forward and just +cleared the drain, but the weight of the sleigh dragged him backwards, +and the whole mass crashed through the snow and the thin ice under it +into the bottom of the cutting.</p> + +<p>Some of the men who had watched Clarkson drive off from the tavern had +not yet returned to their work, and the place where the accident +happened was not so far off but that something of it could be seen. Two +or three started off, and soon arrived at the spot where the sleigh had +disappeared.</p> + +<p>The drain, though deep, was not very wide, and if, even at the very +moment of the fall, Clarkson had been capable of exerting himself, he +might have escaped; as it was, he lay among the broken fragments of his +sleigh and shouted out imprecations upon his horse, which had been +dragged down on the top of him. But when the poor animal was freed from +the harness, and with as much care as possible removed from the body of +its master, a much harder task remained. Clarkson was frightfully +hurt—how, they could hardly tell, but it seemed as if his head and arms +were all that had escaped. The rest of his body appeared to be dead; he +had not the smallest power to move, and yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> there was no outward wound, +and his voice was as strong as ever. They raised him with the greatest +gentleness and care, and bringing up the bottom of the broken sleigh, +laid his helpless limbs on it compassionately, and carried him back to +the tavern, paying no heed to the flood of curses which he constantly +poured out.</p> + +<p>When they reached the tavern, they found the doctor already there, and, +going out of the house, they waited till he should have made his +examination and be able to tell them its result. After some time he +came, closing the door behind him and looking very grave.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with him, sir?" one of the men asked.</p> + +<p>"Everything. He cannot live many hours."</p> + +<p>There was a minute's silence, and then somebody said,</p> + +<p>"Should not his missus be fetched?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, poor woman, the sooner the better. Who will go?"</p> + +<p>"I will, sir," and one of the oldest of the group started off +immediately to the mill to get the necessary permission from his master.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the doctor, "there's another thing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> Who will take my horse +and go into Cacouna and fetch Mr. Bayne out here? I do not mean to leave +Clarkson myself at present."</p> + +<p>Another volunteer was found, and the doctor, having scribbled a pencil +note to Mr. Bayne, sent him off with it and went back into the house. +There was already a change in his patient. An indefinable look had come +over the hard, sunburnt face, and the voice was weaker. Why the doctor +had sent for Mr. Bayne, whom for the moment he regarded not as a +clergyman, but as a magistrate, he himself best knew. Clarkson had no +idea of his having done so; nor had he yet heard plainly that his own +fate was so certain or so near. But it was no part of the doctor's plan +to leave him in ignorance. He went to the side of the settee where the +dying man lay, and sitting down said,</p> + +<p>"I have sent for your wife."</p> + +<p>Clarkson looked at him suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"What's that for?" he asked. "Can't they take me home? I should get well +a deal sooner there than in this place."</p> + +<p>"You cannot be moved. In fact, Clarkson, there is no chance of your +getting well anywhere."</p> + +<p>Clarkson turned his head sharply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Say out what you mean," he cried with an oath.</p> + +<p>"I intend to do so. You are not likely to live till night."</p> + +<p>The wretched man tried to raise himself, but his will had no power over +his body. He turned his head round with a groan, and hid his face +against the wall.</p> + +<p>There were other people in the house; but since Clarkson had been +brought in, they kept as much as possible at the further end, and could +not hear what passed unless it was intended that they should. Presently +Clarkson again looked round, and there was a new expression of terror +and anxiety in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i>?" he asked. "Quite certain I can't get well?"</p> + +<p>"Quite certain. There is not the shadow of a chance."</p> + +<p>"Look here, then; I have something to say."</p> + +<p>"It had better be said soon."</p> + +<p>"I say, Doctor, is that Indian fellow really going to die?"</p> + +<p>"What Indian fellow?"</p> + +<p>"The one in jail—the one that they say killed Doctor Morton."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He is very ill. Why do you say that they <i>say</i> he killed Doctor +Morton?"</p> + +<p>"Because he did not do it, and I know who did."</p> + +<p>"Is that what you have to tell?"</p> + +<p>"I'd have let him hang, mind; I'd never have told a word. But it's to be +me after all!" He stopped and groaned again heavily.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Doctor," he went on, "you'll just remember this, will you? +My missus knows nothing about it—not a word; and don't let them go and +bother her about it afterwards. Will you promise?"</p> + +<p>"The best way to keep her from being troubled is to tell the truth +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll do it then, for her. She's a good one."</p> + +<p>He was silent again for a minute, resolute not to let even the thoughts +of his good wife, who loved him through all his faults, change his hard +manner to any unusual softness.</p> + +<p>In the pause the sound of sleigh bells outside was heard, and through +the window the doctor caught sight of his own little sleigh, with Mr. +Bayne in it, coming up to the door of the house.</p> + +<p>"Now, Clarkson," he said, "you see that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> best thing for everybody +is, that you should tell the exact truth about that murder. I am not +going to talk to you about the benefit it may be to yourself to make +what amends you can for the wrong you have done, but I can tell you that +Christian has friends who would be glad to see him cleared; and if you +will tell all the truth now, late as it is, I think I may promise that +they will look after your wife and children."</p> + +<p>The doctor spoke fast, having made up his mind to deliver this little +speech before they were interrupted. Then he went to the door and opened +it, just in time to admit Mr. Bayne.</p> + +<p>When they came together to Clarkson's side, he was lying quite quiet, +considering. His paralysed condition and fast increasing weakness seemed +to keep down all excitement. He was perfectly conscious, but it was a +sort of mechanical consciousness with which emotion of any kind had very +little to do. Mr. Bayne, who did not yet know why he had been sent for, +but thought only of the dying man's claim upon him as a clergyman, spoke +a few friendly words and sat down near the settee.</p> + +<p>Clarkson motioned the doctor also to sit down.</p> + +<p>"Must I tell <i>him</i>?" he said in a low voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You had better. He is a magistrate, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes; all right. Tell him what it is about; will you?"</p> + +<p>"Clarkson wants to tell you the exact truth about the murder which took +place here in autumn," the Doctor said. "There is not much time to +lose."</p> + +<p>"That's it." And Clarkson began at once. "To begin with, it was not the +Indian at all. He never saw Doctor Morton that I know of, and I am +certain he never saw him alive that day. He happened to be lying asleep +under the bushes, that's all he had to do with it."</p> + +<p>"But who did it then?" Mr. Bayne asked.</p> + +<p>"Who should do it? He wanted to turn me out of my farm that I had +cleared myself; one day he pretty nearly knocked me down, and every day +he abused me as if I was a dog. <i>I</i> killed him."</p> + +<p>He stopped. All the exultation of his triumph was not quite conquered +yet. He had killed his enemy.</p> + +<p>"That day," he went on, "I was going down to the mill; I had a big stick +in my hand that I had but just cut, and I thought what a good one it +would be to knock a man down with. I was going along, in and out among +the bushes, when I caught sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> of him coming riding slowly in front. I +knew he was most likely going to the creek, for it seemed as if he could +not keep from meddling with me continually, and I did not want to talk +to him, so I slipped into a big bush to wait till he was gone by. I +declare I had no thought of harming him, but he always put me in a rage, +so I did not mean to speak to him at all. Well, he came close up, and +all of a sudden I thought I should like to pay him out for hitting me +with his whip, and I just lifted up my stick and knocked him over. It +was a sharper blow than I meant it to be, for the blood ran down as he +fell. He lay on the grass, and I was going to walk back home when I saw +that my stick was all over blood, and there was some on my hands too. +That made me mad with him, because I thought I might be found out by it. +I went a little way further to hide the stick, and I saw a man lying +down. Then I thought <i>he</i> might have seen me and I should have to quiet +him too, but he was fast asleep, and did not move a finger; that made me +think of putting it on him. He had a big knife stuck in his belt, but it +had half fallen out, and I took it that I might put some of the blood on +it. When I came back with it to the place, I found that Doctor Morton +had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> moved. I had not meant at first to kill him, but when I saw that he +was alive I was vexed, and thought if I left him so he would be sure to +know who had hit him, so I finished him. I wanted to make people believe +that it was the Indian who had done it, and they did. That is all I've +got to tell."</p> + +<p>Nearly the whole story had been told in a sullen, monotonous tone, and +when it was finished Clarkson shut his eyes and turned a little away +from his auditors, as if to show that he did not mean to be questioned. +They did indeed try to say something to him of his crime, but he would +not answer, and presently the doctor, after leaning over him for a +moment, motioned Mr. Bayne to be silent. Death was quickly approaching, +and it was useless to trouble the dying man further. After a little +while the man who had gone for Mrs. Clarkson arrived, with the poor +woman half stunned by the shock of his news, and the two gentlemen left +husband and wife together.</p> + +<p>Later Mr. Bayne came back to his post in the more natural and congenial +character of a Christian priest; but Clarkson was not a man to whom a +deathbed repentance could be possible. The one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> human sentiment of his +nature—a half-instinctive love of wife and children—was the only one +that seemed to influence him at the last, and from the moment of his +confession he spoke little except of them. Gradually his consciousness +began to fail, and he spoke no more. Two hours later the doctor and Mr. +Bayne quitted the house together. All was over. Clarkson's turbulent +life had ended quietly, and all that was left of him was the body, over +which a faithful woman wept.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Bayne returned to Cacouna he went straight to Mr. Bellairs and +told him the truth; not many minutes after, Mr. Bellairs hurried to the +jail. He felt anxious that he himself, the nearest connection of Dr. +Morton, should be the first to make what reparation was possible to the +innocent man who had already suffered so much. He did not know how grave +Christian's illness had become, and he thought the hope of speedy +liberation would be the best possible medicine to him. But when he saw +Elton and asked for admission to the prisoner, he heard with dismay that +the discovery had come too late, and that his plan was impracticable. +Elton did not hesitate in the least about letting him enter the room.</p> + +<p>"Half the town might go in and out," he said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> "and he would take no +notice of them, but I do not know about telling him of a sudden. +Perhaps, sir, you'd ask Mrs. Costello?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Costello! Why? Is she here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; and she seems to be to know more about him than even my wife +who nursed him what she could, ever since he's been ill."</p> + +<p>"It might be as well to consult her, then; could you ask her to speak to +me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, if you like to go up into the room; it's a large one, and +you may talk what you please at the further side; he'll never hear."</p> + +<p>Accordingly they went up. Mrs. Costello was sitting beside her husband, +and had been talking to him. He had been for a short time quite aroused +to interest in what she said, but very little fatigued him, and they +were both silent when the door softly opened to admit the unexpected +visitor. Mrs. Costello rose with a strange spasm at her heart. She +foresaw news, but could not guess what, and she trembled as Mr. Bellairs +shook hands with her.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," he said at once, "that it would be safe to tell him good +news?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him eagerly, and he in turn was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> startled by the +passionate interest that flashed into her face.</p> + +<p>"What news?" She asked in a quick vehement whisper.</p> + +<p>"That he is proved innocent; that the murderer has confessed."</p> + +<p>"Is it true?"</p> + +<p>"It is perfectly true. I have just left Mr. Bayne, who heard the +confession."</p> + +<p>"Thank God!"</p> + +<p>She felt her limbs giving way, and caught at the corner of the table for +support, but would have fallen if Mr. Bellairs had not prevented it, and +laid her on a sofa which had been lately brought into the room.</p> + +<p>He hurried to the door, and just outside it met Mrs. Elton, who came to +Mrs. Costello's assistance. It was very long, however, before the +faintness could be overcome, and when that was at last accomplished, +Christian had fallen asleep; they waited then for his waking, and +meanwhile Mrs. Costello heard from Mr. Bellairs the outline of what had +happened.</p> + +<p>At last Christian awoke, and Mrs. Costello begged herself to tell him as +much of the truth as it might be safe for him to hear, but she found it +extremely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> difficult to make him understand. If she could have said to +him, "You are free, and I am going to take you away from here," it would +have been easy; as it was, she even doubted whether he at last +understood that the accusation which had caused his imprisonment was +removed. But to herself the joy was infinite. The last few weeks had +taught her to look at things in a new aspect, and the removal of the +last horrible burden which had been laid upon her made all the rest seem +light.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs, much wondering at her agitation, wished to accompany her +home, but she longed to be alone, and sending for a sleigh, she left the +jail, and reached home at last with her happy tidings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + + +<p>Mrs. Costello leaned back in her chair, and Mr. Strafford watched her +from under the shadow of his hand. Since the winter set in she had taken +to wear a soft white shawl, and her caps were of a closer, simpler make +than they used to be—perhaps these changes made her look older. It was +impossible, too, that she should have passed through the trouble of the +last few months without showing its effects to some degree, and yet it +seemed to her old friend that there was more alteration than he could +see occasion for. Her face had a weary, worn-out look, and the hand that +lay listlessly on the arm of her chair was terribly thin. Those fainting +fits, too, of which Lucia had told him, and the one which she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> had had +that day, were alarming. He knew the steady self-command which she had +been used to exert in the miseries of her married life, and judged that +her long endurance must have weakened her physical powers no little +before she was so far conquered by emotion. He consoled himself, +however, with the idea that her sufferings must be now nearly at an end, +and that she was so young still that she could only need rest and +happiness to recover. He said this to himself, and yet meantime he +watched her uneasily, and did not feel at all so sure of her recovery as +he tried to persuade himself he did.</p> + +<p>There had been a long silence; for, after Mrs. Costello had told her +story, there was enough to occupy the thoughts of all, and after a while +each feared to break upon the other's reverie. And as it happened, the +meditations of the two elder people had turned in almost the same +direction, though they were guided by a different knowledge of +circumstances. Mrs. Costello knew that to be true which Mr. Strafford +only vaguely feared; she was thoroughly aware of the precarious hold she +had on life, and how each fresh shock, whether of joy or sorrow, +hastened the end. Her one anxiety was for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> Lucia, and the safe disposal +of her future. She told herself often that her cares were exaggerated, +but they would stay with her nevertheless, and rather seemed to grow in +intensity with every change that occurred. But to-night, certainly, a +gleam of the hope which she had of late, so carefully shut out, again +crossed her mind. How great a change had come since morning, since last +night, when she wrote that final decisive letter to Maurice! It was +already on its way to England, she knew, for it chanced to be the very +time for the mail starting; and there would be an interval of a week +between its arrival and that of any later intelligence. For a week +Maurice would believe Lucia's father to be a murderer, and if <i>then</i>, in +spite of all, he remained faithful to his old love, would he not have an +unanswerable right to claim her—would there be any excuse for denying +his claim since her father was proved to be innocent? The belief that he +would be faithful was, after all, strong in Mrs. Costello's mind; she +who had known Maurice all his life knew perfectly that no +considerations, which had himself in any way for their object, would +have the smallest weight with him against his love, or even against what +he chose to consider his honour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her face unconsciously brightened while she thought over all these +things, and suffered herself again to dwell on her old favourite idea +without being in the least doubtful as to Lucia's final consent. Yet +while she thus laid the foundation for new castles in the air, Lucia +herself was busy with thoughts and recollections not too favourable to +her mother's plans.</p> + +<p>Percy, not Maurice, filled <i>her</i> mind. She went back, in her fancies, to +the night when he had told her she must go with him to England, and she +had been so happy and so ignorant of all that was to separate them. Then +she thought of the next day, and how she had sent him away, and told him +that it would disgrace him to marry her. Somehow the disgrace which had +weighed so heavily on her then seemed marvellously light now, since she +had known one so much deeper; and in the blessed sense of freedom which +came to her through Clarkson's confession, she was ready to think that +all else was of small consequence. Did not girls marry every day whose +fathers were all that her father had been? Ah, not <i>all</i>; there was +always that Indian blood, which, though it might be the blood of kings +and heroes, put its possessor on a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> level with the lowest of Europeans, +or rather put him apart as something little higher than a brute. She +knew this; but to-night she would not think of it. She would only see +what she liked; and for the first time began to weave impossible fabrics +of hope and happiness. Where was he, her one lover, for she thought of +no other? She had no fear of a rival with him, not even of that Lady +Adeliza, of whom she had heard, and whom she had once feared. Now she +knew that he really had loved <i>her</i>, and feared nothing; for even +supposing that he would in time forget her, love had not had time to +change yet. And need it change at all? She and her mother were going +by-and-by to Europe, and there they might meet. Who could tell?</p> + +<p>But all these things which have taken so long to say took but a few +minutes to think; and of the three who sat together, neither would have +guessed how long a train of ideas passed through the brains of the +others in the interval of their talk. Mrs. Costello was the first to +rouse herself.</p> + +<p>"You do not yet know," she said to Mr. Strafford, "what my plans for +to-morrow are. I meant to ask you to go with me to the jail, and Mr. +Leigh has kindly offered to join us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have quite decided, then, to let everybody know?"</p> + +<p>"I <i>had</i> quite decided; and now, even if I still wished to keep the +secret, it is too late."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I have already told Mr. Leigh and his son; and besides that, Mr. +Bellairs and Mrs. Elton must both have wondered why I should be more +excited by what we heard to-day than anybody else."</p> + +<p>"That is true; but, from what you have told me, I had begun to doubt +whether you need acknowledge your relationship. It seems by no means +certain now that to do so would be of much benefit to Christian."</p> + +<p>"It would give me the right to be with him constantly. We have made up +our minds, both Lucia and I, as to what we are to do. Don't, please, try +to alter our plans."</p> + +<p>"I hesitate," he answered, "only because you have already suffered so +much, and I fear the excitement for you."</p> + +<p>"All the excitement possible on that subject is over. You will see that +I shall take what has to come yet quietly enough. And I am certain that +you will not tell me that a wife is excusable if she neglects a dying +husband."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Assuredly not. You will be glad to have Mr. Leigh with you?"</p> + +<p>"For some things, yes. Yesterday I thought that there was no one whose +presence could have been such a comfort to me; for, except himself, our +greatest friends here are, as you know, the nearest connections of Dr. +Morton; so that till this confession, which has done so much for us, I +could not have asked for sympathy or help from them."</p> + +<p>"No; but now they would give it readily enough if they knew. What do you +think of going first to Mrs. Bellairs, or asking her to come to you? It +seems to me that, if that were not the most comfortable thing for you, +it would be for Lucia."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked eagerly at her mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma," she said; "let me go into Cacouna in the morning, and ask +her to come and see you. Do tell her first, and let her tell Bella."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello understood how her child caught at the idea of being +relieved from the sense of deceit which had lately weighed upon her +whenever she was in the company of her two friends. The idea, too, of +telling her secret to the kindly ear of a woman rather than to men, was +an improvement on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> her own purpose. She assented, therefore, thankfully.</p> + +<p>"Only," she said, "there is no need for you to go. I will write a note +to Mrs. Bellairs, and I think she will come to us."</p> + +<p>But, as it happened, the note, although written, was not sent. On the +following morning, just as breakfast was over at the Cottage, Mrs. +Bellairs' pony and sleigh came to the door, and, after a hasty inquiry +for Mrs. Costello, Mrs. Bellairs herself came in.</p> + +<p>"William told me," she said, "that he had seen you yesterday, and that +you were not well; so I thought the best thing I could do was to come +myself, and see how you were to-day."</p> + +<p>There were a few minutes of talk, like, and yet unlike, what might have +taken place between the same party at any other time—unlike, for each +was talking of one thing, and thinking of another; even Mrs. Bellairs, +who had, of course, heard from her husband the history of her friend's +extraordinary and unaccountable agitation at the jail, and was full of +wonder and curiosity in consequence.</p> + +<p>After a little while Mr. Strafford left the room. Lucia was watching for +an opportunity to follow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> him, when her mother signed to her to remain, +and at once began to speak of what had happened yesterday.</p> + +<p>"That unhappy man's confession," she said, "must have been a relief to +you all, I should think; but you cannot guess what it was to us."</p> + +<p>"It was a relief," Mrs. Bellairs answered, "for it will save so much +horrible publicity, and the going over again of all that dreadful story; +but it is shocking to think of that poor Indian, shut up in prison so +long when he was innocent. But William will not rest till he is at +liberty."</p> + +<p>"I fear he will never be that. He is dying."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I hope not. William told me he was very ill; but when we get him +once free, he must be taken good care of, and surely he will recover."</p> + +<p>"I think not. I do not think it possible he can live many days; and no +one has the same interest in the question that I have."</p> + +<p>She stopped a moment, and then, drawing Lucia towards her, laid her hand +gently on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Dear friend," she said, "you have spoken to me often about this child's +beauty; look at her well, and see if it will not tell you what her +father was."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs obeyed. Lucia, under the impulse of excitement, had +suddenly risen, and now stood pressing one hand upon the mantelpiece to +steady herself. Her eyes were full of a wistful inexplicable meaning; +her whole figure with its dark and graceful beauty seemed to express a +mystery, but it was one to which no key appeared.</p> + +<p>"Her father?" Mrs. Bellairs repeated. "He was a Spaniard, was not he?"</p> + +<p>"I have never said so. People imagined it, and I was glad that they +should, but it is not true."</p> + +<p>"Who then? She is dark like a Spaniard or Italian."</p> + +<p>"Are there no dark races but those of Europe?"</p> + +<p>"<i>What</i> do you mean? Tell me, for Heaven's sake!"</p> + +<p>"You have always thought me a widow, yet my husband is still alive. I +left him long ago when he did not need me; now he is ill and in prison, +and I am going back to him. He is Christian, whom you have all thought a +murderer."</p> + +<p>"Christian! the Indian? Impossible! Lucia, can this be true?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<p>"And you knew it all this time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. All the time."</p> + +<p>"My poor child, what misery! But I cannot understand. How can this be?"</p> + +<p>"Do you not shrink from us! We tell you the truth. We are not what you +have always known us; we are only the wife and daughter of an Indian."</p> + +<p>"Don't—don't speak so. What difference can it make to me? Only, how +could you bear all you must have borne? It is wonderful. I can scarcely +believe it yet."</p> + +<p>"Do not suppose that Lucia has been deceiving you all these years; <i>she</i> +only knew the truth a few months ago."</p> + +<p>"But there is no deceit. You had a right to keep such a secret if you +chose." Mrs. Bellairs rose. She stepped to Lucia's side and kissed her +pale cheeks. "You must have had Indian courage," she said, "to be so +brave and steady at your age."</p> + +<p>Lucia returned the kiss with an earnestness that expressed a whole world +of grateful affection. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> she slipped out of the room, and left the +two friends together.</p> + +<p>They both sat down again; this time side by side, and Mrs. Costello told +in few words as much of her story as was needful. She dwelt, however, so +lightly on the sufferings of her life at Moose Island that any one, who +had known or loved her less than Mrs. Bellairs did, might have thought +she had fled with too little reason from the ties she was now so anxious +to resume. She spoke very shortly, too, of the fears she had had during +the past summer of some discovery, and mentioned having told Lucia her +true history, without any allusion to the particular time when it was +told. Mrs. Bellairs recollected the meeting with the squaw at the farm, +and inquired whether Lucia then knew of her Indian descent.</p> + +<p>"No," Mrs. Costello said, "that was one of the things which alarmed me. +I did not tell her till some time after that; not, indeed, until after +Bella's marriage."</p> + +<p>"Poor child! and then for this terrible trouble to come! No wonder you +are both changed."</p> + +<p>"Do you think <i>her</i> changed?" Mrs. Costello asked in alarm. "She has +been so brave."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She has grown to look much older and as if she thought too much; that +is all. And <i>that</i> is no wonder."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was silent for a moment. She knew that Lucia had had +another burden, especially her own, to bear, and it seemed to her that +Mrs. Bellairs must know or guess something of it too. If she did, it +would be as well for her to know the exact truth. She made up her mind +at once.</p> + +<p>"I found that it was necessary to tell her," she said, "just before Mr. +Percy went away."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs looked at her inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid," she answered, "that he was likely to cause you some +uneasiness."</p> + +<p>"He did more than that," Mrs. Costello said. "He gave Lucia her first +hard thoughts of her mother. But after all I may be doing him injustice. +Did you know that he really wanted to carry her away with him?"</p> + +<p>"He <i>did</i>! And she refused him?"</p> + +<p>"She refused him, when she knew her own position, and the impossibility +of her marrying him."</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Costello, what complications! I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> begin to understand now all +that has puzzled me."</p> + +<p>"You had some suspicion of the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Of part of it. I don't like Edward Percy, and I was afraid he was +gaining an influence with Lucia which would make her unhappy. I even +thought at one time that he was really in earnest, but from some news we +received a few days ago I set that down as a mistake."</p> + +<p>"News of him? What was it?"</p> + +<p>"That he is engaged to a lady whom his father wished him to marry; and +that they are to be married almost immediately."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad," Mrs. Costello said, "and there is nothing to be +surprised about. He was tempted for the moment by a pretty face, but he +was not a man to waste time in thinking about a girl who had refused +him."</p> + +<p>She said this; but she thought in her heart, 'He is not like Maurice. If +Lucia had refused him so, he would have known that she loved him still; +and while she did so, he would have had no thoughts for any other.' She +asked, however,</p> + +<p>"Did you hear from <i>him</i> that this was true?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. But it was from an old college friend of my husband's who is now in +England."</p> + +<p>"I do not see any use in telling Lucia. She dismissed him herself, and +is, I hope, fast forgetting him in all these other affairs that have +come upon us."</p> + +<p>"Surely she cannot have cared enough for him to feel the separation as +she would have done if he had really been worth loving," Mrs. Bellairs +added; and then they left the subject, quite forgetting that reason and +love seldom go hand-in-hand, and that Lucia was still devoutly believing +in two falsities: first, that Percy was capable of a steady and faithful +affection, and secondly, that he must still have something of that +affection for her. Even at this very moment she was comforting her heart +with this belief; and the discovery that her mother's dearest friends +showed no inclination to desert them in their new character, filled her +with a kind of blind sweet confidence in that one whom, as she now +thought, she had treated so ungenerously, and who did not yet know their +secret.</p> + +<p>In the parlour, meanwhile, many things were discussed. Mrs. Bellairs +assured her friend that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> necessary arrangements for Christian's +release had already been commenced, and that Mr. Bellairs would see that +there was not a moment's delay which could be avoided. On the other +hand, however, there was strong in Mrs. Costello's mind the doubt +whether her husband would live to be removed. The utmost she now hoped +for, with any certainty, was to have liberty to be with him constantly +till the end. Finally, she told Mrs. Bellairs of her intention of going +to the jail that day and announcing her claim to the first place by the +prisoner's sick bed. Mrs. Bellairs thought a little over this plan, then +she said,</p> + +<p>"It is impossible that in this weather you can be constantly going +backwards and forwards between here and the jail. At our house you would +be scarcely three minutes' drive away, and there is always the sleigh +and Bob. You and Lucia must come and stay with us."</p> + +<p>And to this plan after much opposition and argument they were all +obliged to give in; Mr. Strafford and Lucia were called into council, +but Mrs. Bellairs was resolved.</p> + +<p>"You shall see nobody," she said. "You shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> be exactly as much at +liberty as if you were at home, and it will spare you both time and +strength for your nursing. It will do Bella good, too; and if we can be +of any use or comfort to you, it will seem a kind of reparation."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + + +<p>The end of the conference was that Mr. Strafford started alone for the +jail, while Mrs. Costello and Mrs. Bellairs went together to Mr. Leigh, +to explain to him the new state of affairs; and after that, drove back +to Cacouna, whither Lucia also was to follow later. Mr. Strafford could +at that time spare but one day for his friends. He was to leave by the +evening's boat; and the Cottage was for the present to be deserted, +except by Margery.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford was admitted with, if possible, even less hesitation than +usual to Christian's room. Every one understood now that the prisoner +was entirely innocent, and in the revulsion of feeling, every one was +disposed to treat with all tenderness and honour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> as a martyr the very +man who, if he had never been falsely accused, they would probably have +regarded only with disgust or contempt.</p> + +<p>Not that there was room for either feeling <i>now</i>. It was as if this +man's history had been written from beginning to end, and then the ink +washed from all the middle pages. What memory he had left, went back to +the days when he had been a pupil of the Jesuit priests, and the traces +of that time remained with him, and were evident to all. But all was +blank from those days to these, when he lay in the wintry sunshine +dying, and scarcely conscious that he was dying in a prison. When a +voice out of that forgotten past spoke to him, his recollection seemed +to revive for a moment, and he answered in English or in Ojibway, as he +was addressed. At other times, if he began to speak at all, it was in +French, the most familiar language of his boyhood, and sometimes scraps +of the old priestly Latin would come to his lips as he lay half dozing, +and dreaming perhaps of his life in the mission-school, and the time +when he was to have been a teacher of his own people. Chiefly, however, +he lay quite silent, and seemed neither to see nor to hear what took +place around him. His face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> where the hand of death was already +visible, had more of its original beauty than Mr. Strafford had ever +seen on it before; and as he came near to the bedside, he for the first +time began to comprehend, what had always till now been an enigma to +him, why Mary Wynter had loved and married her husband.</p> + +<p>Christian roused himself little when he perceived his visitor, and Mr. +Strafford seized the opportunity of speaking to him on the subject of +his imprisonment, as a step towards the great news he had to tell.</p> + +<p>"You will be glad," he said, "when you can go away from here. It will be +very soon now, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"No," was the answer. "I do not want to go now. If they could take away +a large piece of that wall," he went on dreamily, "so that I could +breathe and see the sky, that is all I care for now."</p> + +<p>"You would like, however, to know that you <i>can</i> go away when you +please?"</p> + +<p>Christian looked at him earnestly.</p> + +<p>"But it is a prison," he said. "How do you mean, that I can go away?"</p> + +<p>"Do you recollect why you were brought here?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. They thought I had killed somebody. It was all a mistake. I knew +nothing about it; but everybody thought I did."</p> + +<p>"They know now that it <i>was</i> a mistake. The man who really did it, has +told all."</p> + +<p>"And now?"</p> + +<p>"Now you are proved to be innocent. In a very short time you will be +free."</p> + +<p>"Free? I shall be free?"</p> + +<p>For a moment the dying man raised himself upright. His eyes flashed and +his face glowed as if that thought of freedom had yet power to bring him +back to life. Then he fell back again, and clasped his thin hands over +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Too late," he muttered, "too late!"</p> + +<p>Then he began to talk about things that belonged to that former life +which seemed constantly present to his mind. He talked to himself at +first in a half whisper; then, noticing Mr. Strafford, who still sat by +his bedside, he took him for one of his former masters, and spoke to him +in French.</p> + +<p>"Mon père," he said, "pray do not be angry with us. We lost our way, and +that is why we have been so long. The woods are green still, but the +ground is soaked with rain, and it is hard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> to get through the bushes, +and we are very tired."</p> + +<p>A long sigh of weariness followed the words; and the prisoner fell into +one of his frequent dozes.</p> + +<p>So the great news had been told, and this was all its effect. Yes, +Christian was right; it was too late. Clarkson's work had been well +done; and his second victim was past all human aid.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford sat and watched; and while he watched, he thought over all +that he had known of the lives of these two, Christian and his wife, who +now occupied his mind so fully. He was still thinking when the doctor +came to pay his daily visit. The two had not met before, but each knew +the other well by report; and to-day each was anxious to question the +other on the same subject. Mr. Strafford, however, was most anxious, and +began first.</p> + +<p>"You know, of course," he said, "what I suppose all Cacouna is talking +of. I want to know whether Clarkson's confession has really come too +late?"</p> + +<p>"Too late for what, my dear sir? For this poor fellow's justification?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not exactly that, but for his liberation."</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I have my doubts," he said. "The only thing to be hoped is, that when +he hears that he is really at liberty, it may give him a little +rousing—just stimulate him sufficiently to allow of his being moved +into freer air."</p> + +<p>"If that is the only hope, it has failed already," Mr. Strafford +answered, and told what had taken place.</p> + +<p>"Then," said the doctor, "I give him up. I am afraid his life is just a +matter of days, perhaps of hours; but let me go and talk to him a +little, and then I will tell you my opinion."</p> + +<p>He went to the bedside, and began talking in his brisk, cheerful way, to +his patient, who was now awake. It was evident, however, that the effort +to understand and remember was weaker even than it had been yesterday, +and that this was the effect of increased physical prostration. There +was no longer any fever to supply temporary strength; but life was dying +out quietly, but hopelessly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford still waited, with some anxiety, for the decisive +sentence. He had made up his mind that other questions beside and beyond +that of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> Christian's own fate might be made to depend upon it; and it +cannot be said truly that he felt much sorrow at the idea of its being +unfavourable. It was clear and decided enough, at any rate.</p> + +<p>"He may live for two or three days. To attempt to move him would be only +to hasten his death."</p> + +<p>"You are certain that there is no hope?"</p> + +<p>"Not a shadow."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it likely his mind will grow any clearer towards the +last?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think it; in fact, it is extremely improbable. You see, his +wandering is simply the result of weakness; as the weakness increases, +the mental faculties will probably cease gradually to act at all. One +can't, of course, say positively when; if he becomes quite unconscious +to-night, death will probably follow in the course of the next +twenty-four hours."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow! There is little, then, that can be done for him?"</p> + +<p>"Next to nothing. He wants a nurse to give him some little nourishment +when he wakes up, and that is pretty nearly all."</p> + +<p>"I shall bring him the best possible nurse,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> Mr. Strafford said. "Mrs. +Costello wishes to come and remain here."</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Costello is my patient also," he said; "I am half inclined to +forbid her coming."</p> + +<p>"She is your patient, doctor! How is that? I thought she was looking +ill, though she denies it."</p> + +<p>"She is not ill; but as you are an old friend and adviser, I don't mind +telling you that her health is in a critical state, and that I have +forbidden her all excitement and fatigue." 'Much use,' he added to +himself, in a parenthesis.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"She must come here, nevertheless," he said. "Even if it were possible +to keep her away, it would do no good. She would excite herself still +more."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Strafford," said the doctor, "If I thought that Mrs. Costello was +coming here out of mere charity, I should tell her that charity begins +at home, and that she had more reason to think of herself and her +daughter than of any prisoner in the world. However, I <i>don't</i> think it; +and, therefore, all I have to say is, if you have any regard for her or +for Miss Costello, don't let her do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> more than is absolutely necessary. +Good morning."</p> + +<p>And the busy little man hurried off, and left Mr. Strafford with a new +uneasiness in his mind.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Elton, who came in and out at intervals to see if Christian wanted +anything, made her appearance immediately after, and he took the +opportunity of leaving. He hurried straight to Mrs. Bellairs' house, +where he found the two friends but just arrived. Mrs. Costello was +preparing to start for the jail, but he contrived to give a hint to Mrs. +Bellairs, and they together persuaded her to take an hour's rest before +doing so.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello had begged Mrs. Bellairs to tell Bella the secret which +she herself had just heard; and to do so without loss of time; but she +did not wish to be present, or to go through another agitating scene +that day. The two sisters, therefore, left her to rest, and to consult +with Mr. Strafford, while Bella, already excited and disturbed by the +revelations of the preceding day, heard this new and still more +surprising intelligence. It did not, certainly, take many minutes to +tell; but there was so much beyond the mere facts; so many recollections +of words or looks that had been passed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> by unnoticed at the time; so +much wonder at the courage with which both mother and daughter had faced +the cruel difficulties of their position, that it was nearly an hour +before the conversation ended, and they came back to their guests.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + + +<p>Mr. Strafford was glad to be left alone with Mrs. Costello. He had been +considering seriously what he had heard from the doctor, and what he had +himself seen of Christian's state, and had come to a decision which must +be carried out at once.</p> + +<p>He answered all her questions with this view clearly before him, and +explained to her solicitously how very little consequence it now was to +Christian whether the hands that ministered to his few remaining wants +were those of his own kindred or of pitying strangers. When he thought +he had made this quite evident to her, he reminded her that there was no +further question of removing either from Christian himself, or from his +wife and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> daughter, the stain of an undeserved ignominy; he was at this +very moment regarded by all who knew anything of the circumstances as a +victim sacrificed to save Clarkson, and justified by the manifest +interference of Providence—placed thus in a better position as regarded +public opinion than he could have been by any other train of events. +Thus no idea of compensation need longer be entertained; the generous +yearning towards the oppressed must die now that oppression was ended; +and the only result of declaring the long-concealed marriage would be to +bring upon the two women who had already suffered so much in consequence +of it, a fresh torture of wonder and notoriety—in short, there was no +longer any sufficient reason for the relationship becoming known, and +Mr. Strafford came gradually to the point of suggesting this to Mrs. +Costello.</p> + +<p>She heard him with surprise. As he went on telling her all that was +meant to prepare her for this idea, she listened and assented without +suspecting what was coming, but when she did understand him she said +much as she had done before,</p> + +<p>"It is too late to make any change now; three or four persons already +know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But," Mr. Strafford answered, "they are just the persons whom you can +trust, and whom, most likely you would have wished to tell, at any +rate."</p> + +<p>"That is true. You think then that the truth may still be kept secret?"</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why it should not. Doctor Hardy suspects it, but +medical men know how to keep family secrets, and as for whatever wonder +your illness may have excited in either Mrs. Elton or her husband, the +doctor himself can easily set that at rest by saying what I am afraid is +too true, that you are subject to fainting fits."</p> + +<p>"You must give him a hint to do so then, please; and I know that the +others whom I have told will keep silence faithfully. But then I am not +yet quite convinced that silence ought to be kept."</p> + +<p>"You still feel, however, that <i>not</i> to keep it is in some degree to +sacrifice Lucia?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But you know that we have long ago weighed that matter. Heaven +knows that my heart is in the same scale as my darling's happiness, and +just for that very reason I am afraid to alter our decision."</p> + +<p>"You are right in saying '<i>we</i>.' I helped you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> decide once, and I +wish to change your decision now; for we yielded then to what we both +believed to be the claim of duty, arising out of Christian's +imprisonment and danger. Now, however, that he is quite safe, and that +his very imprisonment proves to be one of the very best things that +could happen to him, the case is reversed; and he is no longer the first +person to be thought of."</p> + +<p>"You do not wish to prevent me from nursing him?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I only think that you can nurse him just as effectually +and tenderly without all the world knowing the claim he has upon you."</p> + +<p>"You are quite certain that his memory and power of recognition will not +return?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford repeated what Dr. Hardy had said.</p> + +<p>"I must think," Mrs. Costello answered. "Everything has come upon me so +quickly and confusingly, that I cannot decide all at once. Give me a +little while to consider."</p> + +<p>She leaned back wearily, and Mr. Strafford, taking a book, went and sat +down at the further end of the room. So they remained till Mrs. Bellairs +and Mrs. Morton came in together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they did so, Mrs. Costello looked up with a half smile,</p> + +<p>"I am something like the old man in the fable," she said, "every new +piece of advice I receive alters my plans."</p> + +<p>"How?" asked Mrs. Bellairs. "Who has been advising you now?"</p> + +<p>"No new adviser, at any rate. My old and tried friend there, who, I +believe, gives quite as much thought to my affairs as if they were his +own."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford came forward.</p> + +<p>"I have been trying to persuade Mrs. Costello," he said, "that a secret +which half-a-dozen people know may yet be a secret."</p> + +<p>"Even when half the half-dozen are women? I am sure, Mr. Strafford, we +are indebted to you, if I guess truly what you mean."</p> + +<p>A look, grave enough, passed between the two, though they spoke lightly.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking over all you say," Mrs. Costello went on, +addressing Mr. Strafford, "and I have decided to follow your advice. But +if at any moment, even the last, there should seem sufficient reason for +changing my opinion, remember that I do not promise not to do so."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford was fully satisfied with this; he knew, or thought he +knew, perfectly, that Christian's condition was such as to ensure no +further change of conduct regarding him; and not long after, he and Mrs. +Costello returned together to the prison.</p> + +<p>For two or three hours they sat beside the prisoner, and talked at +intervals to each other, or to him, with long pauses of thought between. +There was much for both to think of. The necessity of action seemed to +be all over, or at least, to be suspended as long as Christian's life +should last; and in this time of waiting, whether it were hours or days, +all that could be done was to build up plans for the future which, when +they were built, any one of the various possible changes of +circumstances might at once overthrow.</p> + +<p>But so entirely had Mrs. Costello identified herself with her daughter +in all her habits and thoughts, that that dwelling on the future, which +is the special prerogative of youth, seemed as natural to her as though +her own life had all lain before, instead of behind her; and she found +herself perpetually occupied with the consideration of what was best to +be done for that future<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> which had been so often taken, as it were, out +of her guidance.</p> + +<p>Sitting by her husband's deathbed, however, the long-estranged wife +seemed to live a double life. The recollection of the past—of the short +and secret courtship with its illusions, greater and more perilous than +love's illusions commonly are—of her first days of married life, when, +in spite of her rash disobedience, she was feverishly happy; of the +awaking, and total disenchantment, and the wretched years that followed, +all came to her in a floating, broken vision, filling her with emotions +which had, at last, lost their bitterness. She yielded to them without +resistance and without effort, and sank into a long silence, which was +broken at last by Mr. Strafford.</p> + +<p>"I must leave you," he said. "The boat starts in half an hour, and I +want to see Mrs. Bellairs for a moment."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello roused herself.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, then," she answered. "Dear Mr. Strafford, you know I have +long ago given up trying to thank you for all you do for me; you must +accept obedience as a proof of gratitude."</p> + +<p>"See that you do obey me then," he replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> smiling, "by taking care of +yourself. Have you any message for Lucia?"</p> + +<p>"Do you not think she might come here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, perfectly well. Shall I tell her you expect her?"</p> + +<p>"Please."</p> + +<p>"And you will return to Mrs. Bellairs with her?"</p> + +<p>"We shall see. I do not promise."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will not ask too much. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He went to the bedside, took Christian's hand and bade him also +good-bye. He was roused for a moment, but his thoughts still returned to +the old days.</p> + +<p>"Adieu! father," he said; "I think I shall be gone when you come back. +Do you know that I am going on a journey? They will not tell me where, +but I shall not forget you all here. Ask the Saints to bring me safe +back."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford knelt by the bed for a moment, and asked a heavenly guide +for the poor wanderer on this his last journey, but he seemed to hear +nothing and went on murmuring to himself,</p> + +<p>"Ave Maria, gratia plena—"</p> + +<p>When her friend was gone, and Mrs. Costello<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> came back to her seat, he +was still feebly repeating "pro nobis peccatoribus, pro nobis +peccatoribus," with a faint trembling voice, as if even to the dulled +faculties, through the deepening shadow of death, some faint distorted +gleam of the truth had pierced, and the soul was, in truth, less torpid +than the brain.</p> + +<p>His wife sat by his side, and listened, deeply touched. She perceived +that the part of his life with which she was associated, was dead to +him; she could only stand aside and watch while the shadows of an +earlier time gathered closely round him. But the more she understood +this, the more a painful tenderness filled her heart towards him; she +almost fancied that she had loved him all these years, and only found it +out now that he had forgotten her. She began to grow impatient for +Lucia's coming, and to long for the moment when she should be able to +say,</p> + +<p>"My child, this is your father."</p> + +<p>The broad clear light of sunshine upon snow had begun to soften towards +twilight when Lucia came.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs brought her, but stayed below, that that meeting might +have no witnesses. A trembling hand upon the lock warned Mrs. Costello, +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> she met her daughter at the door and brought her in.</p> + +<p>Lucia had been struggling all day—ever since she knew that she was, at +last, to see her father—to forget the one moment when they had met +before; and all her efforts had been worse than useless. She came in, +agitated and distressed, with the vision of that night clear and vivid +before her recollection. So it was at the threshold. Her mother led her +to the bedside, and the vision fled. Her eyes fell upon a face, little +darker than her own, where not the slightest flush even of life-like +colour remained, where a perfect calm had given back their natural +nobleness to the worn features, and where scarcely a line was left to +show the trace of life's sins or sufferings. She stood for a moment half +bewildered. She knew that what she saw was but the faintest shadow of +what had been, and, turning, she threw her arms about her mother's neck, +and whispered,</p> + +<p>"Ah, mamma! I understand all now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + + +<p>Mother and daughter watched for some time in silence. At last Lucia +whispered, "May I go and tell Mrs. Bellairs that I shall remain with +you?"</p> + +<p>"Is she here, then? Go, rather, and ask her to come to me for a moment."</p> + +<p>Lucia went, and came to Mrs. Bellairs with such strange gladness in her +face that she looked as she had not done for months past.</p> + +<p>"Will you go up to mamma?" she said. "My father seems to be asleep, and +she wishes to see you."</p> + +<p>And the two went upstairs together without further words. Mrs. Bellairs +feared lest another strange face at the bedside might disturb the dying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +man; she lingered, therefore, at a little distance, but she, too, looked +with wonder at the silent figure lying there in a kind of peaceful +state, all unlike the vagrant Indian—the supposed criminal—she had +heard of. Mrs. Costello came to her, and Lucia sat down in her mother's +place.</p> + +<p>"I brought you a message from William," Mrs. Bellairs said. "The order +for his release is come. He is free. Is it too late?"</p> + +<p>"Come a little nearer and see for yourself. You will not disturb him. +Yes, dear friend, it is too late for any release but one to reach him +now."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bellairs' lip trembled. "Ah, how cruel it seems!" she said. "How +can you forgive us?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive <i>you</i>? Why?"</p> + +<p>"It seems as if we were to blame, because it was my poor Bella's loss +that brought this on him."</p> + +<p>"It was Clarkson's wickedness, nothing else. But do not let us talk of +that. Some good has come out of the evil, as you see."</p> + +<p>The eyes of both the friends rested on the father and daughter so +strangely brought together. The strong likeness between them was +unmistakable, yet Lucia's beauty had never been more vivid and strik<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>ing +than now when she watched her dying father, with the light of such +varied emotions flickering on her face.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" Mrs. Costello went on. "This is better than I ever hoped +for her." They went nearer, and Mrs. Bellairs bent down and kissed +Lucia's cheek.</p> + +<p>"Make your mother go home with me," she whispered. "This will be more +than she is equal to." Then turning again to her friend she went on, "I +see you are right, and I must go back and tell my husband. You will come +with me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have a presentiment that I shall not be needed here long; while I +am, I must stay."</p> + +<p>"But you cannot be sure, and you must not tire yourself out at the +beginning."</p> + +<p>"I shall not tire myself. I can rest here perfectly, only I cannot leave +him."</p> + +<p>"We met the doctor just now. He said he was coming here again. Will you +come if he advises it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello again shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You all think too much of me. You must leave me here, dear Mrs. +Bellairs, and Lucia can stay for an hour or two if she wishes; and tell +Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> Bellairs how much we thank him, and that nothing can be done now."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked wistfully at her mother's pale face.</p> + +<p>"Cannot you trust me to watch here for a little while? There seems to be +so very little to do," she said; but Mrs. Costello had made up her mind, +and their friend left them both together.</p> + +<p>As she went down, the doctor was coming in. She would not leave the jail +until she had heard his report; so she sat down to wait in Mrs. Elton's +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>Doctor Hardy had little expectation of finding any change. He had said +to Mr. Strafford that the next four-and-twenty hours might bring the +final one, but even that would come softly and gradually. He knew also +that he should find Mrs. Costello installed as nurse, and guessed that +she had more than an ordinary interest in her task; but for the first +moment he doubted whether she knew the true state of her patient. This +doubt, however, she soon ended, for she asked, as he had been asked +before.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it likely he may become conscious again?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>She sighed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is better so, no doubt, but I wish so much for five minutes even."</p> + +<p>Then she remembered that she was speaking out her thoughts to one who +was not in her secret. She hesitated a moment, but as her eye fell upon +Lucia, she decided to trust this one more. Her voice trembled, however, +as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You have seen already," she said, "that we are not strangers; I think I +ought to tell you the truth. I am his wife; we were married long ago in +England, and separated when Lucia was a baby."</p> + +<p>Doctor Hardy bowed. He did not know exactly what to say, and saw no +necessity for confessing that he had, some time ago, surmised pretty +nearly the facts he was now told.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello went on: "I intended to acknowledge my marriage, but since +it can be of no benefit to my husband, my friends have persuaded me not +to do so. But you can imagine how much I wish——" She faltered and +stopped, looking at the dying man, who was never to know what care and +love surrounded him at last.</p> + +<p>"There is certainly a possibility that the stupor may pass off for a +time," the doctor said, "but, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> dear madam, for your sake I cannot +wish it. You must be content to know that there is no pain or distress +attending this state, and that it is by far the best for you and for +him."</p> + +<p>He went up to the bed and gently touched Christian's hand. It was quite +powerless and chilly, but at the touch he opened his eyes, and seemed +dimly to recognize his visitor. One or two questions were asked, and +answered as if in a dream; then the weary eyes closed again, and all +around seemed forgotten.</p> + +<p>The doctor gave some slight directions and then left; but to Mrs. +Bellairs he said,</p> + +<p>"It is nearly over. Mrs. Costello will stay to-night, but probably +before morning you will be able to get her away."</p> + +<p>They went out together; but an hour later Mrs. Bellairs came back to +wait, lest in the night the two who watched upstairs might want a friend +at hand. The jailer's wife sent her husband to bed, and making a bright +fire, sat up with her guest as they had previously agreed.</p> + +<p>Night wore on, however, and all remained still and undisturbed. About +midnight Christian's doze deepened into a sound sleep, and Lucia too, +sitting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> in the warmth of the store, slept in spite of herself. For +nearly an hour the room was so still that Mrs. Costello could count +every tick of her watch, and every change in the flickering sound of the +wood fire. <i>She</i> had no inclination to sleep.</p> + +<p>For this one hour she felt herself a wife like other wives—a wife and +mother,—watching her husband and her child. It was still a mystery to +her how this could be, but the feeling had its own exquisite sweetness, +how dearly soever that sweetness was bought; and she drank it in +greedily. Now and then she rose softly to assure herself that all was +well, and each time the even breath and calm face spoke of rest that +might have been life-giving, if there had yet been in the worn-out frame +the faintest power of revival.</p> + +<p>But between one and two o'clock Christian awoke. He did not move, but +his wife, looking at him, saw his eyes open, and an indescribable +difference in his aspect which made her heart leap, for she knew that +his mind had awakened also, for that one last recognition that she had +so longed for. She said nothing, however, but brought a few spoonfuls of +wine and gave to him. He took them, watching her silently all the while, +but not seeming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> fully to recognize her until she came and knelt down at +his side, taking his cold hand in hers. Then he smiled, and turning a +little towards her, said "Mary!"</p> + +<p>She could not answer, but she bent her head down for a moment upon the +hand she held.</p> + +<p>"You have been here before?" he went on. "I remember seeing you. You +have forgiven me, then?"</p> + +<p>"Quite. Think of other things now."</p> + +<p>"I can't think of anything except that I must be dying, and that I am +glad you are here."</p> + +<p>"I have been near you all the while you have been here; I shall not +leave you again."</p> + +<p>"No, not again—it will be such a little while, and I cannot hurt you +now. Have you been happy?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes. I had our child."</p> + +<p>"Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"Here. She was tired and has fallen asleep."</p> + +<p>"Don't wake her yet. I know I forget a great deal—everything seems far +off—but just at last I wanted you, and you are here."</p> + +<p>Both were silent for a minute. Then he spoke again—</p> + +<p>"Mary, why did you marry an Indian?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because I loved him," she said, her voice half choked by sobs.</p> + +<p>"It was a pity. You knew nothing. They cheated you into it; but I think, +though he was a brute, he loved you always. In his way, you know, as +much as he could."</p> + +<p>His mind seemed to be beginning to wander again, and his voice grew +weaker. She rose, crying quietly, and gave him a little more wine. Then +she touched Lucia and said, "Come, my child."</p> + +<p>Lucia was instantly awake. She followed her mother to the bedside.</p> + +<p>"Here is our daughter. Can you see her?"</p> + +<p>"Not very well. Is she like you?"</p> + +<p>"No. She is an Indian girl—strangers say she is beautiful, but to me +she is only my brave, good child."</p> + +<p>"I am glad. She will make amends. It is all right now; you will be free +and safe. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He was silent for awhile, lying with closed eyes; and when he spoke +again it was in Ojibway. He seemed to be talking to his own people, and +to fancy himself out in the woods with a hunting party. After a time +this ceased also, and then he began to talk confusedly in the three +languages which were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> familiar to him, and in broken, incoherent +sentences. His voice, however, grew fainter and fainter. The wine which +they gave him at short intervals seemed to revive him each time for a +moment; but neither of them could doubt that the end was very near.</p> + +<p>But as it came nearer still, the delusion that had been strongest lately +came back to the dying man. He again fancied himself a child—the +favourite pupil of the Jesuit fathers. He began to repeat softly, +lessons they had taught him—prayers and scraps of hymns, sometimes +Latin, sometimes French. Once, after a pause, he began to recite, quite +clearly, a Latin Psalm—</p> + +<p>"O Domine, libera animam meam: misericors Dominus et justus; et Deus +miseretur.... Convertere, anima mea, in requiem tuam, quia Dominus +benefecit tibi"—</p> + +<p>Again there was a silence, for he was deaf to all earthly voices, and +the wife and daughter knelt side by side and listened to those strange +broken sentences, which seemed to come from a mind dead to all outward +influences, yet not wholly unconscious of its own state.</p> + +<p>Once he said "Mary;" but though she held his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> hand still clasped in +hers, his wife could not make her voice heard in answer. Then he talked +again murmuringly of old times; and last of all when the low musical +tones had grown very feeble, but were musical still, Mary heard, "Mon +Dieu, j'espère avec une ferme confiance"—There the words seemed to +fail, until they grew audible again for one last moment—"la vie +éternelle."</p> + +<p>So he grew silent for ever in this life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + + +<p>The cold grey of the early winter morning was just beginning to be +warmed by the first flash of crimson before sunrise, as Mrs. Bellairs +drove away from the prison gates with the two who had kept so strange a +vigil. Neither of them noticed the sky then, or they might have seen how +after the shadows began to disappear, and the snowy glimmer which had +shone palely all night, was swallowed up in the growing brightness of +morning, everything began to be tinged with rosy splendour, and life +fresh and joyous, sprang up to meet the sun. It was winter still—all +last year's leaves and flowers were dead, and there was the hush of snow +and frost upon everything; but over all, after storm and night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> came +light and gladness, and the flowers would bloom again in their season.</p> + +<p>It was quite early still and few people were stirring. They saw no one +on their arrival except Bella, who was ready to run down and admit them +the moment their sleigh-bells were heard. Mother and daughter went to +their room, where the fire had been burning all night in readiness for +their coming, and where Mrs. Bellairs herself brought them some coffee. +Then Lucia lay down and was soon asleep; and Mrs. Costello seeing that +she was so, followed her example.</p> + +<p>There was no vehement grief to keep her waking in these first hours of +her widowhood, but rather a sense of infinite calm. The thought of her +husband, so long a daily torture and irritation, was now a sacred +memory—the last few hours had been to her the renewal of her marriage +vows, to which death had brought only a fuller ratification, after +life's long divorce. She was very weak and weary; and but for the child +beside her, would have been glad to enter herself that unseen world +whose gates seemed so near, and to have rested there; but it was not +time yet. So she lay and thought, calmly and soberly, till she too +dropped asleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>She kept in her room all day till quite evening. Mr. Bellairs had +undertaken to make all the needful arrangements, and it was not +necessary that any one should know that the real direction of affairs +rested with her. Her first occupation was to write to Mr. Strafford, +telling him of Christian's death, and of her own wish, that the body +should be taken to Moose Island for burial. It would have to be removed +as soon as possible from the jail, and she desired that it might be +carried at once to her old home, where she and Lucia would be ready to +receive it. This letter was sent off by a special messenger; but as +there could be no doubt of the answer, all went on at Cacouna as if it +had already arrived. In the evening, when Mrs. Costello came down to +join the rest of the family in the drawing-room, she had changed little +of her usual gentle manner. There might be a deeper shade of gravity, +but she was not, and did not appear, sad. Lucia and Bella were sitting +together, talking softly. They had been speaking of the last few +months—not saying much—but growing into a closer sympathy with each +other, as they understood how great had been their community of sorrow, +than they had ever felt in the unclouded years<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> of their girlish +friendship. It was long since Lucia had given up her fancies about +Bella's marriage. The shock of her widowhood had shaken off all the gay +affectations of the bride and brought her within the comprehension of +Lucia's steadier and more transparent nature. And now that the secret +which had stood so grimly between them was told, nothing remained to +spoil the comfort of their intercourse.</p> + +<p>Except its shortness. While they talked, an occasional sentence spoken +by one or other of the elder group reached their ears, and once they +stopped their conversation to listen. Mrs. Costello was saying, in +answer to some question—</p> + +<p>"To France, I think. Indeed I am sure we shall go there first."</p> + +<p>"But," said Mrs. Bellairs, "such a voyage at this time of year! Do wait +till spring."</p> + +<p>"Except that it will be cold, I do not think the voyage will be worse +now than at any other time," Mrs. Costello answered quietly.</p> + +<p>"But, Lucia!" said Bella, "surely you are not going away now?"</p> + +<p>"It seems that we are. Mamma has said nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> to me about it to-day, +and I thought she might have given up the idea."</p> + +<p>"Until to-day, then, you knew she intended it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Lucia's cheeks grew rosy as she answered, for she remembered why +the idea of European travel had seemed pleasant to her. One word from +her companion might have set all those fluttering thoughts and hopes at +rest; but Bella guessed nothing of them, and neither saw Lucia's change +of colour, nor, if she had seen it, would have understood its cause.</p> + +<p>"Do you think you will be long away?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I have no idea <i>now</i>. I think that before, mamma did not mean to come +back at all."</p> + +<p>"And you can leave Canada, and all of us so easily?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, no;" and Lucia blushed more deeply than before. "Oh! Bella, I +am a real Canadian girl. I should long for Canada again often, often, if +I were away,—and for all of you."</p> + +<p>"I don't see," Bella said, half sadly, half crossly, "what good it does +people to go away. There is Maurice, who seems to have everything he can +wish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> for, and yet, according to Mr. Leigh, he is perfectly restless and +miserable, and wants to come back."</p> + +<p>"Poor Maurice! if he is coming back I wish he would come before we go; +but I suppose he cannot leave while Mr. Beresford lives."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you should care. You will see him in England; shan't +you?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mamma can't go to England. But perhaps he might come over to see us +in France, if we stop there."</p> + +<p>"Of course, he will. And if by that time you are both home sick, you can +come out together again, you know."</p> + +<p>Lucia shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Maurice will be a great man, and have to stay at home and look after +his estates, and by-and-by you will all forget us when he and Mr. Leigh +are living together in Norfolk, and mamma and I are wandering—who knows +where?"</p> + +<p>Bella's hand fell softly upon her friend's; but they said no more. The +others, too, had grown silent, and there was little more talk among them +that night.</p> + +<p>But after they had separated, and the mother and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> daughter were alone, +Lucia asked whether their voyage was still really to take place +immediately?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello was sitting thoughtfully watching a little disk of glowing +light formed by the opening in the stove door; she took her eyes from it +slowly, and paused so long before answering that Lucia began to doubt +whether she had heard.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said at last, speaking deliberately, as if she were still +debating the question in her own mind. "I believe we shall be able to +arrange everything here so as to reach New York in time for the Havre +steamer of the 28th. That will be our best way of going."</p> + +<p>"That is, four weeks from to-day?"</p> + +<p>"We may not need so long. But I wish to be at liberty to spend a week at +the island, if, when we get there, I should wish to do so. I am not sure +even about that. It may be more pain than pleasure. And we may trust +ourselves now to say good-bye to our friends here; and if we sail on the +28th, we must leave Cacouna, on the 26th at the latest. The time will +soon pass."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," Lucia answered with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"But, mamma," she went on a minute afterwards.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> "Why cannot we wait till +spring?" There was a kind of tremble in her voice as she spoke, for she +felt a strange mixture of desire and reluctance for this journey. On one +hand, she wished to reach Europe quickly, because Percy was there, and +because even if they never met again, she believed she should be able to +hear of him, and to satisfy herself that he still thought of her. On the +other, she was really a little afraid of the winter voyage. She had +never even seen the sea, and had a kind of mysterious awe of it. +Stronger, however, than any selfish feeling was a keen anxiety which had +taken possession of her with regard to her mother's health, the +feebleness of which became daily more apparent; so that her double +wishes neutralized each other, and she could scarcely tell whether if +the decision rested with her, it would have been to stay or to go.</p> + +<p>But she wanted to hear her mother's reasons, so she asked—</p> + +<p>"Why cannot we wait till spring?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello again paused before answering. She, like Lucia, had more +thoughts on the subject than she was willing to express; but she had one +powerful reason for losing no time, which she decided that Lucia ought +to know.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Because I am anxious to see my cousin, who is almost our only relation, +and to introduce you to him."</p> + +<p>"But why, mamma? As we cannot go to England what good will it do us just +to see him for a moment?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot go to England, but there is nothing to prevent you from doing +so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, that old idea still! It is quite useless, mamma. You shall +not send me away from you."</p> + +<p>Lucia knelt by her mother's side, and looked up into her face with eyes +full of mingled entreaty and resolution. Mrs. Costello drew her close +within her arm.</p> + +<p>"No, my darling. I have given up that idea altogether. Indeed, there is +no longer any need for it, and I should grudge losing you out of my +sight for a single day now. But, don't you understand that a time may be +coming when we shall have to part, whether we will or no?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! not yet. There is plenty of time to think of that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. But I doubt it. At any rate I have less reason than most +people to count on long life."</p> + +<p>Again Lucia looked up. A cold, unspeakable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> terror filled her heart, and +she tried to read the secret which her mother's calm face hid from her. +Mrs. Costello delayed no longer to tell her all the truth.</p> + +<p>"Many months ago," she said, "I was convinced that the disease of which +my mother died, had attacked me. I suppose there might be some +hereditary predisposition towards it, and too much thought and care +brought it on. I determined not to allow myself any fancies on the +subject. I sent for Doctor Hardy, and contrived to see him several times +during the autumn without letting you suspect anything. He could only +acknowledge that I was right, and tell me to avoid excitement and +fatigue. You know how possible <i>that</i> was. And so this mischief has been +going on fast, and the end may be nearer than even I think it is."</p> + +<p>Her voice faltered at the last words, and Lucia, who had listened to +every one with the feeling that so many knives were being plunged +through and through her heart, slipped down from her resting-place, and +crouched on the floor, hiding her face and stifling the sobs that shook +her whole body. She longed to cry out, to clasp her arms round her +mother, to struggle, with all the force of her great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> love, against this +fate; and yet, so well had she understood, so clearly she remembered, +even through her agony, the need for quietness, that she kept a force +upon herself like iron, trying to steady the pulses that throbbed so +wildly, with one thought, or rather one impulse, "I must not trouble +<i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello looked at her child for a moment in silence. Even she did +not yet fully understand the force of that quality which Lucia herself +had once ascribed to her Indian blood, but which, in truth, had little +affinity with common fortitude, for it was simply a conquest of self, +gained without thought or conscious effort, by the greater power of +love. But such contests cannot last long. This was fierce and cruel, but +it ended as love willed. The poor child dragged herself up again to her +mother's knee, and drew the pale, fair face down to her own flushed and +burning one; but one kiss, silent and full of anguish, was all that she +dared venture yet. But she longed to hear more, and presently Mrs. +Costello spoke again, not daring yet to go back to the point of which +they had last spoken, but returning to the subject of their journey.</p> + +<p>"The steamer calls at Southampton," she said. "I intend to write to +George, and tell him the time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> of our sailing, so that, if he wishes, he +can meet us there. We will go from Havre to Paris, and stay there for +awhile; afterwards, I think we should be more comfortable in a country +town, if we can find one not too inaccessible."</p> + +<p>There was something in this sentence peculiarly reassuring. Lucia +instinctively reasoned that, since her mother could make plans for their +future so far in advance, the danger of which she had just spoken must +be remote. What is remote, we readily believe uncertain; and thus, after +a few minutes of absolute hopelessness, she began to hope again, +tremblingly and fearfully, but still with more ardour than if the +previous alarm had been less complete.</p> + +<p>"Dear mamma," she said, "Doctor Hardy may be very clever, but I am not +going to put any faith in him. When we get to Paris you must have the +very best advice that is to be had, and you will have nothing to do but +take care of yourself."</p> + +<p>"Very well," and Mrs. Costello smiled, reading the hope clearly enough, +though she had not fully read the despair. "And in the meantime you may +hear what I want to say to you about my cousin."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. But you know I don't like him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> all the same. I know I +should have hated him just as you did when you were a girl."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. At any rate, you must not hate him now, for I have asked +him to be your guardian, and he has consented."</p> + +<p>Lucia shuddered at that word "guardian," and the thought implied in it, +but she determined to say no more about her prejudice against Mr. +Wynter.</p> + +<p>"You know," Mrs. Costello said, "that it would be much more comfortable +for me to know that you were left in the care of my own people than with +any one else. It will be three years before you are of age. To suppose +that you may need a guardian, therefore, is neither improbable nor +alarming; and my reason for proposing to settle in France is, that you +may be within a short distance of him."</p> + +<p>Lucia could only assent.</p> + +<p>"I shall try," her mother continued, "to persuade him to pay us a visit +there, and to bring his wife, who is a good woman, and I am sure would +be kind to my child. I long very much, Lucia, sometimes, to know that, +though I can never see the dear old home again, you may do so."</p> + +<p>"Have they any children?" Lucia asked, her thoughts dwelling on the +Wynters.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They have lost several, George told me. There are three living, and the +eldest, I think, is about your age."</p> + +<p>They had talked themselves quite calm now. The idea of her own death had +only troubled Mrs. Costello with regard to Lucia; and now that she was +in some measure prepared for it, it seemed even less terrible than +before. Lucia, for her part, had put by all consideration of the subject +for the present; to think of it without agonies of distress was +impossible, and at present to agitate herself would be to agitate her +mother—a thing at any cost of after-suffering to be avoided.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + + +<p>Next morning Mrs. Costello and Lucia prepared to return to the Cottage. +They were to remain there till the following evening, and then Mr. +Bellairs proposed to drive them down to the first village below Cacouna +at which the steamboats called, that they might there embark for Moose +Island, instead of being obliged to do so at the Cacouna wharf, where +they were certain to meet inquisitive acquaintances. But a short time +before they were to leave their friends, Doctor Hardy called.</p> + +<p>He asked to see Mrs. Costello, and was taken into the small room where +Mrs. Bellairs usually passed her mornings. No one else was present,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> and +he told her at once that he had called to ask her assistance in an +affair which he feared would be painful to her.</p> + +<p>She smiled gravely. "I am too grateful to you, doctor," she said, "not +to be pleased that you should have anything to ask."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he went on, "whether Mr. Bellairs has told you the +details of Clarkson's death—I mean as to what appeared to influence him +in making his confession?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, rather wondering what this could have to do with +her.</p> + +<p>"I think," the doctor proceeded, "that for all his brutality in other +respects, Clarkson was a good husband, and as fond of his wife and +children as if he had been a model of virtue. At all events, his last +thought was of his wife; and I rashly promised to see that she did not +suffer on his account. But I can't keep my promise without help."</p> + +<p>He paused, not at all sure how Mrs. Costello might feel on the subject; +and whether all that she and her husband had suffered might have +completely embittered her towards the whole family of the murderer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly," she answered, "it would be very hard to punish the innocent +for the guilty; and I have heard nothing but good of Mrs. Clarkson."</p> + +<p>The doctor felt relieved.</p> + +<p>"I believe there is nothing but good that could be told of her," he said +warmly. "I have known something of her for a long time, and there is not +a more decent, respectable woman in the township. It is a mystery how +she ever married that wretched fellow; but after she had married him she +was a good wife, and did what little she could to keep him out of +mischief. What is strangest of all, however, is, that she is almost +heart broken, poor soul, not for his wickedness, but for his death."</p> + +<p>"Poor thing! But the circumstances of his death must have made it more +horrible to her?"</p> + +<p>"It is a mercy that she does not seem to have understood that. She is +very ill, and seems not to have had time to think yet—except that she +has a vague idea that her children will starve."</p> + +<p>"They shall not do that. You shall tell me what to do for them—that is +my affair."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I thought you would feel for her. But the plan I have in my +mind depends chiefly on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> Mrs. Morton, and I feel that it is asking a +great deal to expect <i>her</i> to do anything."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed. I should be almost afraid to speak to her on the +subject."</p> + +<p>"If she had had her way, I imagine, matters would never have been so bad +between Doctor Morton and Clarkson. I know she was inclined to be +indulgent—perhaps too indulgent—when this poor woman came to her about +their rent."</p> + +<p>"She is very kind hearted. But after her goodness has been so cruelly +abused, how can one expect her now to be even just? But, indeed, you +have not yet told me what you wish her to do?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to get permission for the widow and children to stay +where they are through the winter. The poor woman is very ill; she had a +baby born yesterday morning, which is, happily, not likely to live, and +at present, I believe, it is just the thought of her children that keeps +her alive. She can't at the best be moved for some weeks, and I think if +Mrs. Morton could know how she is really situated, she could not help +wishing to spare her more trouble."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you are right, and that you do Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> Morton more justice +than I do. But Lucia might be able to help us; do you mind taking her +into our councils?"</p> + +<p>"Quite the contrary; pray consult her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello opened the drawing-room door and called Lucia. Then she +explained to her shortly the doctor's wishes, and asked whether Bella +had ever alluded in their conversations to Mrs. Clarkson.</p> + +<p>"Yes; two or three times," Lucia answered. "She heard somehow yesterday +that she was ill, and told me. She is very sorry for her, and I think +she would be glad to do anything she can."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Costello; you will help me, I see," cried Doctor Hardy, +delighted.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello smiled, "You had better leave it in Lucia's hands, +doctor," she said. "But tell me first whether there is anything in +particular that we can do? Is Mrs. Clarkson too ill to see any one?"</p> + +<p>"That depends very much upon who it is. Anybody who could relieve her +mind about those unfortunate children of hers would do her good."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I may go over then, if we have good news for her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<p>The doctor said good-morning, and went away, tolerably satisfied that +his promise to the dying man would be fulfilled without further trouble +on his part.</p> + +<p>"When women take up a thing of that sort," he meditated, "they seldom do +it by halves. Now I would venture to bet something handsome that all +these three, who have cause, if ever women had, to hate the very name of +Clarkson, will be just as kind and pitiful to that poor thing as if she +were the only sufferer among them. <i>She's</i> all right, if we can but get +her on her legs again."</p> + +<p>This opinion was not altogether a mistaken one. Lucia went immediately +to Bella and told her simply that Doctor Hardy was much concerned about +Mrs. Clarkson, and that she herself was going to Beaver Creek to see +what could best be done for the poor woman and her family. A quiver +passed over Mrs. Morton's face. She could not yet quite free herself +from the impulse of revenge which would have held her back from help and +pity; she had the natural feeling which Mrs. Costello had half +unconsciously imputed to her, that she ought to be the last to console +the widow and children of the murderer; such feelings, however<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> had but +a momentary power over her; the idea which was most at home in her mind +and took root to the extinction of the others, was just the simple +womanly one that there was somebody in deep trouble whom she could help. +She said shortly and without any exclamations or questions, "I will go +with you; Elise wants Bob to take your mamma home, and it will take us +too long to walk, so I will send down to Lane's at once for a sleigh. +Tell Mrs. Costello, Lucia, and then get ready."</p> + +<p>There was nothing for anybody to say against Bella's going. She had +always been decided and independent in her doings, and since her +widowhood nobody thought of advising or persuading her. Mrs. Bellairs +looked grave when she heard of this expedition, and took an opportunity +of begging Lucia, to try to prevent any exciting scene, and to insist +upon coming home again immediately; but even she said nothing to her +sister.</p> + +<p>The two sleighs came to the door at the same time, and as Mrs. Costello +and Mrs. Bellairs drove off towards the cottage, Bella and Lucia started +in the opposite direction. They had not much to say to each other on the +way; and both, as they passed the fatal spot where the murder had been +committed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> affected to be occupied with their own thoughts, that they +might neither meet each other's eyes nor seem to remember where they +were. They soon began to pass along the white and scarcely-trodden track +which ran beside the creek. All was silent and desolate. The water, +almost black by contrast with the snow, washed against the bank with a +dull monotonous sound just audible; the fishing-hut had been transformed +into a great heap of snow, and the branches, heavily laden, hung quite +motionless under the cold grey sky. Not a sign of life appeared till +they came in sight of the log-house and the light curl of smoke from its +chimney. Neither had seen the place before—to Lucia, indeed, it had +possessed no interest till the events of the last month or two, and she +looked out with the sort of shuddering curiosity which is naturally +excited by the place where we know a great crime to have been hidden in +the daily life of the inhabitants. But Bella remembered many small +incidents connected with this fatal property of hers—and if a wish +could have brought those dark sullen waters to cover the whole farm and +hide it out of sight and memory, they would have risen that moment. Yet, +after all, the unchangeable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> fact of <i>her</i> suffering and sorrow was no +reason for others suffering; she put aside for the present all the pangs +of personal feeling, and prepared to go into the house with a face and +manner fit for her mission.</p> + +<p>When they reached it, all was so very still inside that they hesitated +to knock; and while they paused, the woman who had undertaken the office +of nurse, and who had seen the sleigh arrive, softly opened the door and +admitted them. She pointed to the bed to show them that her patient was +asleep; and they sat down to wait for her waking. The house contained +but one room, with a small lean-to which served the purpose of a back +kitchen, and made it possible for the other apartment to have that look +of almost dainty cleanliness and order which the visitors noticed. No +attempt had ever been made to hide the logs, of which the walls were +built. A line of plaster between each kept out the wind, and gave a +curious striped appearance to the inside. The floor was of boards, +unplaned, but white as snow, and partly covered by a rag carpet. In the +middle of the room stood the stove, and a small table near it. An +old-fashioned chest of drawers of polished oak, a dresser of pine wood +and some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> rush-seated chairs had their places against the walls; but in +the further corner stood the chief piece of furniture, and the one which +drew the attention of the visitors with the most powerful attraction. It +was a large clumsy four-post bedstead, hung with blue and white homespun +curtains, and covered with a gay patchwork quilt. The curtains on both +sides were drawn back, and the face and figure of the sleeper were in +full view. She lay as if under the influence of a narcotic, so still +that her breathing could scarcely be distinguished. Two or three days of +intense suffering had given her the blanched shrunken look which +generally comes from long illness; her face, comely and bright in +health, was sunk and pallid, with black marks below the closed eyes; one +hand stretched over the covers, held all through her sleep that of a +little girl, her eldest child, who was half kneeling on a chair, half +lying across the bed, with her head resting on the pillow. At the foot +of the bed stood a wooden cradle—the covering disarranged and partly +fallen on the floor, while the poor little baby, wrapped in an old +blanket, lay in the nurse's arms, and now and then feebly cried, or +rather moaned, as if it were almost too weak to make its complaint +heard.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> A boy of about six sat in a low seat silently busy with a knife +and a piece of wood; and a younger girl, tired of the sadness and +constraint around, had climbed upon a chair, and resting one arm on the +dresser, laid her round rosy cheek on it, and fallen asleep.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morton and Lucia were both strangers to the nurse. She merely +understood that they had come with some kind intentions towards her +charge, and when she had put chairs for them near the stove and seen +them sit down to wait, she returned to her occupation of rocking and +soothing the poor little mite she held in her arms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + + +<p>At last there was a movement, and a faint sigh as the sleeper awoke. +Bella, by a kind of instinctive movement, rose, and holding out her +arms, took the baby that the nurse might be at liberty to attend to the +mother. It was a strange moment. The little creature had ceased moaning, +and lay quite tranquil, its tiny face looking whiter and more wax-like +under the shadow of the heavy crape veil which hung partly over it. It +even seemed to nestle closer to the heart through which its touch sent +so keen a stab of pain, and the young widow bent low over it as her eyes +were blinded for an instant by a vision of what might have been. What +might have been! The happiness she had just begun to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> taste, the hope +that would have made her future bright, had been crushed together by +this child's father—yet the frail little creature lay tenderly cradled +in her arms. She looked at it; she touched the soft cheek with her cold +and trembling lips; she seemed by her own will to press the sting +through and through her heart; and as she did so, she saw and accepted +her part in life—to have henceforth no individual existence, but to +fill her solitary days with thoughts of charity, and to draw from the +recollection of her own anguish the means of consolation for the griefs +of others.</p> + +<p>Lucia turned away. She guessed something, though but little, of her +friend's thoughts, and moved towards the bed, to be ready to speak to +Mrs. Clarkson. The little girl, released by her mother's waking, slipped +down, and joined her brother, and Lucia, seeing herself perceived, went +round to the place she had occupied.</p> + +<p>"I do not know whether you know me, Mrs. Clarkson," she said. "I am +Lucia Costello. Doctor Hardy told my mother of your illness, and she +sent me to see whether we cannot be of some use to you or the little +ones."</p> + +<p>Lucia had puzzled beforehand over what she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> should say, but finally her +little speech was just what happened to come into her head at the +moment. However, it made small difference, since the speech and the +manner were both kind, and kindness was the first thing needed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clarkson looked at her with a mixed expression of gratitude and +eagerness.</p> + +<p>"It's not for me, miss," she said earnestly, "but for the poor little +ones. I used to be a good one to work, but, you see, I can't work for +'em now—not at present."</p> + +<p>And tears of extreme weakness filled her eyes.</p> + +<p>Lucia laid her hand softly on the thin fingers that lay nervously +catching at the edge of the sheet.</p> + +<p>"Don't be the least afraid about them," she answered. "Mamma and the +doctor will see that they are taken care of; only we thought you would +be glad to know that people were thinking about them. There is another +visitor here who can do you more good than I can—Mrs. Morton."</p> + +<p>Lucia moved aside, and Bella took her place. Mrs. Clarkson looked up +anxiously, with her whole desire written on her pale face, and was +answered at once,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You must make haste and get well," Bella said with a smile. "As soon as +you are able, I want to talk to you about business. You will have to +manage all the improvements I am going to make."</p> + +<p>"Me? But you don't mean to let us stay?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do."</p> + +<p>The poor woman tried to cover her eyes with her thin hand, but had not +strength. She whispered, "Thank God," as the heavy drops rolled from +under her quivering eyelids.</p> + +<p>"I am going away directly," Bella said, "because you ought to rest; but +I want you to understand first, that I have not the least intention of +disturbing you in your house. We have both paid dearly enough for our +connection. It shall rest now without any further dispute. I will come +again and see you. About money, it will be quite time enough to think +when you are better. Try to keep free from anxiety for these little +ones' sakes."</p> + +<p>She was still holding the baby, soothing it with a gentle rocking +motion; and so she moved round again from the bedside and stood by the +stove. The child seemed to be asleep, and, reluctant to disturb it, she +still delayed giving it up, though it was time to go away. The nurse had +lingered for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> a moment tending the mother; then she came and stood ready +to take the child. Both were looking down on the pale little face, when +they saw it suddenly change. All at once the eyes opened wide, the +muscles were drawn and contracted, a line of foam started out between +the lips. One violent convulsion passed over the limbs, then they fell +loose and nerveless; the eyes closed, the lips parted—the life, +scarcely twenty-four hours old, had passed away.</p> + +<p>So sudden, so strange was the event—the almost instantaneous gliding +from life to death—that Bella had not altered her position, or loosened +her clasp when the final change, so awful and yet so beautiful, settled +down upon the baby's face. Then she put it into the nurse's arms, and +they looked at one another. They dared not speak, for the mother would +have heard them, and their consultation how to tell her must needs be a +speechless one; but what consultation could have altered the fact, or +softened the awe and terror with which they bent over that little +lifeless form? Lucia came from the low chair where the two elder +children sat together, and where she had been talking softly to them; +she came to Bella's side, and saw the truth. It was but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> by a gesture +that her cry of horror could be repressed, but it was repressed, and for +a minute the three paused irresolute and tearful, wondering what to do?</p> + +<p>Then the nurse said softly,</p> + +<p>"She's got to know it, poor soul! It's best tell her at once," and +stepped to the bedside.</p> + +<p>But there was no need to tell anything. With that strange quick +intuition which so often saves the actual speaking of such tidings, the +mother seemed to see what had happened.</p> + +<p>"He's gone?" she said, with a weak quivering voice. "My baby!" And her +eyes seemed to devour the still little form which she had not strength +to put out her hand to touch. The kind woman laid down the child for a +moment where the mother's lips could touch its cold cheek.</p> + +<p>"Don't fret," she said, while tears rolled down her own face; "there's +three on 'em yet, as wants their mother to take care on 'em."</p> + +<p>She seemed to have touched with instinctive skill the right chord for +consolation. Mrs. Clarkson spoke again after a minute with a steadier +and calmer voice,</p> + +<p>"You'll lay him by me now?" she said. "It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> can't wake him out of his +sleep, and I'd like to see him till the last. Is Mrs. Morton there +still?"</p> + +<p>Bella came to her.</p> + +<p>"Did you see him go?" she asked. "I was very thankful to you before, but +I am more now, because you came just in time. Don't you think the little +ones that never spoke in this world will be able to speak up there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so," Bella answered, fancying that her mind began to +wander.</p> + +<p>"And so you see my man is sure to ask what we were all doing, and the +little one would be able to tell him how good you'd been to us."</p> + +<p>She stopped; tears flowed softly, but she was too weak for violent +grief; and so the two girls left her, after having given the nurse money +for present use, and learned what comforts were most needed.</p> + +<p>On their return they did not stop at all in Cacouna, but drove straight +to the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs was still there, and sent word to her +sister by Margery to dismiss the sleigh and come in, that they might +return home together. They found the two ladies sitting "conferring by +the parlour fire," and eager to hear the result of their visit to Beaver +Creek. Lucia saw that the narration must come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> from her; for Bella, worn +out by the painful excitement of the morning, was incapable of +describing what had so greatly moved her, and could scarcely bear even +to hear the baby's death spoken of as a thing not to be regretted.</p> + +<p>"Poor little creature!" Mrs. Bellairs said. "Even the mother by-and-by +may be glad it is gone."</p> + +<p>"Elise!" Bella cried impatiently, "how can you be so cruel? And you are +a mother yourself!"</p> + +<p>"You forget, dear, what a fate those children have; and yet, since you +feel so pitifully towards them, it certainly does not become me to be +less charitable;" and the kind-hearted woman wiped furtively the tears +of genuine compassion which she had been shedding over the sorrows of +the Clarksons, and never thought of defending herself from her sister's +blame; though, to tell the truth, she had not in her whole nature a +single spark of cruelty or uncharitableness, and that Bella knew +perfectly well.</p> + +<p>Lucia went on to mention the things really needed by the squatter's +family. Mrs. Costello turned to Bella,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you really mean," she asked, "to keep them on the farm after this +winter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I certainly shall not allow them to be turned out as long as they +like to stay. I am going to have the land cleared and put under +cultivation. I suppose it will be necessary to have a kind of foreman or +manager of some sort there; and it has occurred to me that Mrs. Clarkson +might take him as a lodger. But before that can be done, the house would +have to be enlarged and several alterations made. I must consult William +about it."</p> + +<p>Both Mrs. Costello and Mrs. Bellairs were surprised to hear the young +widow speaking with so much of her old spirit and decision. The fact was +that the consciousness that there was something to be done for others +had made Bella aware that, in spite of her aching heart, she was still +able to do what duties remained to her; and without hesitation, or, +indeed, any thought about the matter, she was prepared to take upon +herself the management of her own affairs, and to change her +brother-in-law's position from that of guardian, resumed since her +widowhood, to that of adviser only. In the very depths of her misery she +had passed her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> twenty-first birthday, so that now she would have had in +any case the right of acting for herself. It was the very time to which, +not many months ago, Mr. Bellairs had looked forward with some anxiety, +and which he had thought so well provided for by her marriage; now, in +the utter change which had come both to her circumstances and feelings, +there was little reason why even the most careful guardian should feel +any reluctance to resign his office. But since her widowhood she had so +visibly shrunk from all mention of her property, and especially of that +part of it which had been the cause of her husband's dispute with his +murderer, that her friends naturally wondered now to hear her speak of +the management of those very lands in a way which showed that the +subject had actually occupied her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I promised Dr. Hardy," Mrs. Costello said, "that the care of providing +for the children should be mine. Indeed, I feel bound to do something. I +think until they are old enough to be of some use to their mother, it +would be well to give her a little allowance for their schooling and +clothes; but I shall be away. Will you manage this for me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was so arranged. Mrs. Costello was to leave a certain sum in Mrs. +Morton's hands, to be paid monthly to Mrs. Clarkson for the benefit of +her children; and, this being settled, the little party had time to turn +their thoughts to subjects of more personal interest. They would not +meet again until the Costellos returned from Moose Island, which would +probably not be for a week at least. The messenger who had carried to +Mr. Strafford the news of Christian's death had returned, and brought a +letter which only confirmed Mrs. Costello's plans—she and Lucia were to +be, for as long a time as they could spare, the guests of their old +friend, and Christian was to be laid in the burial ground where so many +of his own people already slept.</p> + +<p>At last the two sisters left the Cottage, and once more Mrs. Costello +and Lucia remained alone in the familiar room. How much seemed to have +happened since they were last alone here! and, through great suffering, +how much good seemed to have been wrought! The little home seemed +pleasanter than ever, and for a moment Mrs. Costello asked herself if it +was really necessary that they should leave it? But clearly, if not +<i>necessary</i>, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> was best. It was best, probably, that Lucia and Maurice +should not meet again, and certainly that Lucia should be placed within +reach of her future guardians. But Mrs. Costello sighed over her plan.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + + +<p>Mr. Bellairs came, according to his promise, and drove Mrs. Costello and +Lucia to Fairfield, where they were to take the boat for Moose Island. +It was a distance of about five miles; and as they glided along rapidly +and smoothly, Lucia remembered with a sigh that this was probably the +last sleigh drive of any length that she would have before leaving +Canada. Perhaps it was not right, considering what the object of their +present journey was, that she should be at liberty to have any such +thoughts; it might have been more decorous if she had been absorbed by +the grave and sombre ideas which the occasion demanded; but Lucia was at +heart too frank and natural to try to force<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> upon herself the +affectation of a grief she did not feel. It had come into her heart, +while Christian was slowly wearing out the last days of his unhappy +life, to care for him as her father, to be deeply sorry for him, and to +desire to comfort him; but now that his sufferings were over, she +honestly thought that there was no further reason for grieving on his +account. She was sad, however, for very simple and childish reasons; and +this idea that it was her last sleigh drive actually brought tears into +her eyes. Everything was so lovely! The road along which they passed lay +like a broad white line between the dark woods and the river. The sun, +setting over the opposite shore, brought out millions of sparkling +points brighter than diamonds on the surface of the snow, and the +gorgeous colours of the sky, deeper and more vivid even than in summer, +filled her heart with an inexpressible and ever-changing delight. That +wonderful union of spotless purity and glorious colour seemed almost +supernatural—as if it needed but for men's eyes to be opened that they +might see plainly the city of "pure gold like unto clear glass" which +stood upon those many-hued foundations, and the forms with garments +white as snow which might come down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> and walk unsullied over the +white-robed earth. But to see all this loveliness for the last time! To +enjoy for the last time this luxury of nestling down among the sleigh +robes, and being carried silently and swiftly forward, with nothing to +disturb the dreamy, fanciful mood of the moment! She was actually +crying, letting large heavy tears drop quietly down upon her +furs—crying with the first premonitory attack of homesickness—when the +village came in sight, and she had to rouse herself and dry her eyes, +lest her mother should turn round and see her.</p> + +<p>By-and-by they turned down the road to the steamboat wharf, and found +themselves among a little group of people. The boats only stopped here +when they were signalled to do so; but to-night there happened to be +other passengers going, and Mr. Bellairs advised Mrs. Costello to remain +in the sleigh till the 'Reindeer,' which was just in sight, should +arrive. They sat still, accordingly, while he stood beside them talking; +and when the boat had stopped at the landing, they went on board and +straight down to the ladies' cabin. It was by this time growing dusk; in +the low cabin, with its small windows, there was but a faint glimmer of +daylight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> remaining, and as soon as the boat was again under way, the +hanging lamps were lighted and people who had till then lingered on deck +began to come down by twos and threes. Mrs. Costello and Lucia took +possession of a sofa; their voyage was to end about ten o'clock, and for +the few hours it would last they were disposed to keep quiet and avoid +observation. It happened that the number of passengers was large, the +last boat having been detained at some of the Lake ports, and the +continuance of navigation at that time of year being so uncertain; and +the greater part of the women on board having come from places much +further west than Cacouna, formed a crowd of strangers, among whom two +veiled and muffled figures easily passed unnoticed.</p> + +<p>The cabin had grown very quiet, and the dull monotonous noise of the +paddles had lulled Lucia almost to sleep, when she was startled by the +touch of her mother's hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>"It is very nearly time we were there," Mrs. Costello said. "If it is a +fine night we ought to be able to see the island."</p> + +<p>They drew their cloaks closely round them and went up on deck. The night +was brilliantly clear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> and starlight, though there was no moon, and +already the lights of the small American town of Claremont, where they +were to land, were in sight, with their bright reflection shining in the +river below them. To the left a large dark mass seemed to lie upon the +water, and to that Mrs. Costello's eyes turned.</p> + +<p>"There is the island," she said in a low voice. "Your birthplace, Lucia, +and my first Canadian home."</p> + +<p>But in vain Lucia strained her eyes to distinguish the size or form of +the land. The end of the island which they were approaching was still +thickly wooded, and the drooping branches added still more vagueness to +the outline. Only as they came nearer a small clearing was dimly +distinguishable, where a kind of promontory ran out into the river, and +on the point of land a small white house.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello laid her hand upon Lucia's.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she said, "can you see that space where the house stands? What a +lonely place it looks! I wonder how I lived there for six years. I can +see even the place where the canoe used to lie on the beach. There is +one there now!" She stood straining her eyes to watch the scene once so +familiar, until the steamer, drawing towards the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> landing-place, +completely hid it from her. Then the lights on shore flashed out more +brightly close at hand, and the figures of men waiting on the wharf +could be distinguished. Just as the cable was thrown on shore a boat +came flying across the river from the island. It drew up to the wharf, +and next moment Mr. Strafford was seen coming through the little crowd +to receive his visitors. They landed immediately, and he led them to his +boat.</p> + +<p>"You remember this crossing?" he said to Mrs. Costello; "it was by this +way that you left the island."</p> + +<p>"With my baby in my arms. Yes; I am not likely to forget it."</p> + +<p>They took their places in the boat, where an Indian boy was waiting. Mr. +Strafford took an oar, and they glided out of the light and noise of the +shore into the starry darkness.</p> + +<p>Very few words passed as they crossed the river. Mrs. Costello's mind +was full of thoughts of her life here, and Lucia looked forward with +wondering curiosity to the sight of an Indian settlement. She was +conscious, too, that the feeling of terror and dislike, which for so +many years of her life had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> always awakened by the sight of one of +her father's people, was not even now altogether extinguished. Since she +had known her own origin she had tried to get rid of this prejudice more +earnestly than before, but the habit was so strong that she had not yet +quite mastered it. She sat and watched the shadowy outline of the Indian +boy's figure in the boat, and lectured herself a little on the folly and +even wickedness of her sensations.</p> + +<p>They had to pass round the lower end of the island, where the village +lay, in order to reach Mr. Strafford's house; but the lights were all +extinguished, and the inhabitants already asleep. They coasted along, +passing a little wooden pier, and some fishing-boats and canoes lying +moored beside the beach, and at last came to a boarded landing-place +with a small boat-house at one end. Here they stopped, and Mr. Strafford +bidding his boy run up to the door and knock, assisted the strangers to +land. They were scarcely out of the boat when a bright gleam of +lamplight flashing from the open door showed them a sloping path, up +which they went, and found themselves in a bright warm room, all glowing +with lamplight and firelight. A very neat little old woman in a +Quaker-like cap and dress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> was ready to welcome them, and in front of +the great blazing fire a table stood ready for supper. The old woman Mr. +Strafford introduced as his housekeeper, Mrs. Hall, and Mrs. Costello +recognized her as her own successor in the charge of that school for +Indian women and girls of which she had told Lucia.</p> + +<p>The room in which supper was laid, and into which the outer door opened, +was large and square. At each end two smaller ones opened off it—on one +side Mr. Strafford's study and bedroom, at the other Mrs. Hall's room +and the one which had been prepared for the guests. Here also a fire +burned brightly on the hearth, shining on the white walls and on the bed +where, years ago, Mrs. Costello had watched her baby through its first +illness. She sat down for a moment to recall that time, and to recognize +bit by bit the familiar aspect of the place; then she made haste to lay +aside her wrappings and get ready for supper.</p> + +<p>It was quite ready by this time—the most luxurious meal Mrs. Hall's +resources could provide. There was coffee—not to be praised in itself, +but hot, and accompanied by an abundance of cream. There were venison +steaks, and a great pile of buck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>wheat cakes that moment taken from the +fire, with a glass dish of clear golden maple syrup placed beside them, +and expressly intended for Lucia's benefit. Altogether not a meal to be +despised.</p> + +<p>When supper was over, and Mrs. Hall had left them, Mr. Strafford began +to ask Mrs. Costello for particulars of the arrangements made for the +removal of Christian's remains, and when they would probably arrive at +the island.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bellairs had had some difficulty, she told him, in finding means of +transport, but the matter had been finally settled by his engaging a +sailing-boat belonging to a fisherman. The coffin had been put on board +early in the morning, and the boat started at once. It ought, therefore, +to reach the island early to-morrow.</p> + +<p>"All here is ready," Mr. Strafford said. "I suppose three o'clock in the +afternoon will do to fix for the funeral; the boat is sure to be here +long before that."</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, long before. Do the people know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose most of them do. There are not very many who remember +you, but Mary Wanita will be here in the morning to see you. Shall you +dislike it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I shall be very glad. Mary was a true friend."</p> + +<p>They talked a little longer, sitting round the fire, when the great logs +began to break through in the middle and fall down on the hearth outside +the andirons, sending up clouds of sparks as they were put back into the +fire. The night was very still; and in the pauses of their talk they +could hear the mournful wash of the river as its steady current pressed +against the landing-place below. To the two elder people, who said +nothing to each other of their fancy, another presence, shadowy and +silent, seemed to take its place among them at the fireside—a fair, +serene presence, matronly and gracious, which had passed away from human +eyes years ago. And they paused and thought of her as she had been that +winter night when she took the fugitive mother and child into her kindly +home, and gave them all her womanly pity and help. What lonely years had +passed here since then!</p> + +<p>By some instinctive sympathy their eyes met, and each knew what the +other's thoughts had been. Mr. Strafford rose.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," he said, "we shall have time for a long chat; to-night you +must be tired. I hope<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> Mrs. Hall has done what she could to make you +comfortable."</p> + +<p>There could be no doubt about that. For two or three days nothing had +occupied the good woman's thoughts but this strange and wonderful +arrival of strangers—of ladies, too—at the house where so few +strangers ever came; and she had exerted all her backwoods' ingenuity to +repair what deficiency of comfort there might be.</p> + +<p>They were in no humour either to be critical; and Lucia was soon asleep, +while her mother lay listening to the sound of the river, and thinking +of the many things which this very room brought so freshly to her mind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + + +<p>It was late when Mrs. Costello fell asleep, and very early when she +woke, startled out of her dreams by a long wailing sound. She listened, +and in the dark winter morning could hear the wind sweeping through the +pines and round the house with loud intermittent gusts, like moans and +outcries of pain. The moments of silence between these gusts had +something weird and awful, and she could not resist the desire to get up +and look out at the weather. But just as she drew aside the blind, a +cloud of frozen snow was dashed against the glass, rattling sharply, +while the wind again passed on with its ominous wail. Nothing whatever +could be seen; the pale dim dawn was veiled by mist and snow,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> and each +time the icy particles were driven against the window, they left behind +them a thicker curtain of frost. Mrs. Costello went shivering back to +bed, but she did not sleep again. She began to consider anxiously how +far the boat that was carrying her dead could have come before the storm +commenced. At midnight it had been quite calm, probably indeed till four +or five o'clock; and if the sailors had foreseen the change, they would +most likely have made all possible speed. If they did so, the wind and +current both being in their favour, they ought to be here now; but if, +as was quite equally likely, they had stopped last night at some port, +would they venture out in this storm?</p> + +<p>She began to regret that she had not caused the body to be sent by land, +so as to have only to cross the narrow current which divided the island +from the Canadian shore. She had decided against this plan on account of +the greater distance and the difficulty of transport, but now these +seemed less formidable than the uncertainty and possible danger of the +route she had chosen.</p> + +<p>She was glad when Lucia awoke, and she could speak of her uneasiness. By +this time the wind had grown more violent, and blew continuously, and +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> rattling of snow like frozen dust against the window seemed never +to cease. A dim daylight had begun to creep into the room, but it was +even colder and more cheerless than the darkness. Presently a young +Indian girl, whom Mrs. Hall had trained for service, came softly into +the room and began to coax the still burning embers of the fire into a +blaze. She went about her work with a silent deftness which would have +done credit to the best of housemaids, and yet in all her motions there +was something of that free natural grace which belongs to her people. +When she had done, and was standing for a moment to see if the fire +'drew' properly, Mrs. Costello spoke to her. She understood no English, +however, or at least she understood none addressed to her by a strange +voice, and said so in her own soft musical language. When the question +was repeated in Ojibway, however, her face brightened, and she was +perfectly ready to answer all Mrs. Costello chose to ask.</p> + +<p>She said the weather had only changed towards six o'clock. No boat, +however, had arrived, but it might be on the other side of the island, +where the passage was broader and safer than on this, the Canadian +side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<p>As soon as she was gone the two women, anxious and uneasy, rose and +dressed that they might be ready. Ready for what they scarcely knew; but +they had the feeling common enough when nothing can possibly be done, +that it would be a comfort to be prepared to do something.</p> + +<p>They found Mrs. Hall superintending the laying of the breakfast-table, +and Mr. Strafford hearing their voices came out of his study and joined +them. He had not the least inclination to sympathise with the fears in +which Mrs. Costello was a little disposed to indulge, with regard to the +safety of the boat; but he confessed a doubt as to its arrival before +the hour named, or indeed that day at all. This uncertainty threw a +shadow over the whole party. It was impossible to avoid making pauses in +their conversation whenever the wind seemed either to rise more +fiercely, or to be lulled into a momentary calm; and after breakfast was +over, and Mrs. Hall in cloak and hood had started for her school, they +began to make frequent journeys to the windows, and interrupt their talk +to say to each other,</p> + +<p>"There is less drift, I think."</p> + +<p>"Yes; certainly it is clearer. I can see the water." Or,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The wind is surely higher than ever, and it will be against them."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, it is almost directly favourable, but the question is +whether they would venture out at all in such a storm."</p> + +<p>At last, however, towards twelve o'clock the wind did unmistakably begin +to abate. Mr. Strafford had been out, and on his return affirmed that +the storm was almost over. It might return again towards night, but if +the boatmen knew their business, they should be able to take advantage +of the next few hours and reach the island while the calm lasted.</p> + +<p>"There is no sign of their arrival at present then?" Mrs. Costello asked +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I have not been round the island," Mr. Strafford answered. "No one +seems to have seen anything of a boat at all. However, they would need +to be close in shore to be distinguishable through the drift."</p> + +<p>"But it seems that there is very little chance of their being here by +three o'clock. Would not it be better to decide that in any case the +funeral will not be till to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"I think it would. I intend going by-and-by up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> the island, and will +take care to arrange that first, and also about the reception of the +boat when it does arrive."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello looked up anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Are you going quite to the other end of the island?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; to your old house. The woman who lives there is very ill, and, you +know, I am doctor and parson both in one."</p> + +<p>"Will you take me with you?"</p> + +<p>"You! Impossible! You would be frozen to death."</p> + +<p>"It would not hurt me; and I confess I have so little control of myself +to-day that sitting here quietly by the fire is just the hardest thing I +could have to do."</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford examined her face, and perceived that she had really grown +painfully nervous and excited. He turned to Lucia.</p> + +<p>"What do you think?" he asked. "Ought I to say yes or no?"</p> + +<p>"Say yes, please, and let me go too."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear friends, what good can you possibly do? If the drift and +mist clear away, you may be able to see a little way up the river, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +your doing so will not bring the boat one bit faster."</p> + +<p>"That is true; but it may end our uncertainty a little sooner."</p> + +<p>"I doubt even that. One cannot calculate on having more than an hour or +two of clear daylight between the subsiding of the storm and sunset; and +even if it were possible for you to stand watching all that time, I do +not believe the boat would come while there was daylight enough to see +it."</p> + +<p>"Who is the sick woman? Did I ever know her?"</p> + +<p>"No; she came to the island after you left."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think she would let us sit for a while in her outer room? It +has a window looking right up the river, and she, I suppose, is in the +inner one, so that we need not disturb her."</p> + +<p>"You seem to have decided," Mr. Strafford said, smiling, "so I give up. +Yes, poor Martha has not been out of the inner room for weeks, and you +can sit by the window you speak of as long as you please. I am sure you +will be welcome; only, remember I do not approve of your going at all."</p> + +<p>However, they remained obstinate. As soon as dinner was over they +wrapped themselves warmly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> and started with Mr. Strafford for the house +on the promontory. Mrs. Costello felt her heart beat faster and faster +as they followed the well-remembered paths, which, now that a veil of +snow covered all the improvements made under Mr. Strafford's teaching, +seemed quite unchanged since she traversed them last. She recalled the +sensations of that night, the bitter cold, and clear starlight round +her, and the tumult of fear, anger, and hope within. To-day what a +difference! Then she was flying from her husband's tyranny, now she was +going to meet his corpse, and to receive it with tenderness and honour. +Her heart was too full for her to speak. Her companions guessed it, and +left her in peace.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford had a thousand things to explain and describe to Lucia. +The island was his kingdom; its prosperity his own work; and it was one +of his greatest pleasures to find a stranger who was interested in all +he could tell him. This young girl, too, whom he had known from her +birth, whom he had seen so many times in his wife's arms, who had been +the baby-playfellow of his daughter, had a claim, stronger than she +herself could understand, on the solitary and childless man. He would +have liked to keep her with him always, and see her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> devote her life, as +he had devoted his, to the cause of her father's people. Her frank and +yet modest manner, joined to what he knew of her conduct lately, pleased +and satisfied him. He took a certain speculative delight in examining +her character, and deciding that, after all, the union of the Indian and +Anglo-Saxon races would be favourable to both. Talking, therefore, in +the most friendly humour with each other, they pursued their way through +the loose and uneven snow, sometimes stumbling into a deep drift, +sometimes crossing a space swept almost bare by the wind. Mrs. Costello +leaned on her old friend's arm. Scarcely half the distance was passed +when she began to be conscious of a feeling of exhaustion from cold and +fatigue, but her determination to go on sustained her; she kept her veil +closely over her face that the others might not see her paleness, and +exerted all her energies to overcome her fatigue. At length they +approached the shore. The sky had lightened considerably, and they could +see some distance up the river. Both sky and water were of a leaden +dulness; only the effects of the morning storm could be seen in the +great waves, tipped with foam, which still rolled sullenly upon the +beach. But there was no sail in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> sight. A small canoe, which was +labouring to make its way from the island to the American shore, was the +only speck upon the broad, swift-flowing stream; and the party, after +pausing for a moment to make quite certain that it was so, turned +towards the house on the point, where they meant to keep their watch.</p> + +<p>They had been seen from within; and as they came to the gate of the +small enclosure in front, a little girl opened the door to admit them. +They passed immediately into the room where, on the evening of her +flight, Mrs. Costello had found Christian and his companions. Its aspect +was very little changed. The house and furniture, such as it was, had +been sold years ago to its present occupants; Mr. Strafford had rescued +such small articles as the fugitive wife's desk, workbox, and various +trifles which had been in her possession before her marriage, but other +things remained just as they had been. Two children, girls of ten and +twelve, were the only occupants of the room, and they cast curious +glances at the two ladies who followed the clergyman into their domains.</p> + +<p>He spoke to them in Ojibway, asking first for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> their mother, and then +why the younger sister was not at school?</p> + +<p>"It was so stormy this morning," the elder answered. "She is going this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"It is quite time she was gone, then. These ladies will stay with you, +Sunflower, while I go in to see your mother. Tell her I am here."</p> + +<p>"Sunflower"—always thus called instead of by her baptismal name of +Julia—obeyed; and while she was away, Mr. Strafford placed a chair for +Mrs. Costello in front of a window which commanded the long reach of the +river towards Cacouna. She sat down, and commenced her watch, which a +glance at the American clock hanging on the wall told her would not be a +very long one.</p> + +<p>The younger girl had wrapped herself in a great shawl, and hurried off +to school; the elder one was occupied at the further end of the room, +making bread of Indian meal, and baking it in thin cakes upon the stove. +Mr. Strafford was with the invalid, and the mother and daughter sat +silently at the window and watched. The afternoon advanced. The American +clock struck one quarter after another. It was already half-past four. +Mr. Strafford came back; but, seeing the absorbed atti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>tude of Mrs. +Costello, he would not disturb her, and the silence continued. At last +she moved. She had been looking, with intense eagerness, at one point +far away in the distance. She turned round to Mr. Strafford.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she said; "it <i>is</i> a sail."</p> + +<p>He rose, and looked as she pointed.</p> + +<p>"I see nothing," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Lucia!" she said impatiently, "can't you see it?"</p> + +<p>But Lucia shook her head. She had fancied several times already that she +saw something.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Costello said no more just then. A minute or two afterwards, +however, she spoke still more positively.</p> + +<p>"It is a boat with two sails. It is coming down quickly now. They must +have waited for the storm to be over."</p> + +<p>Next moment the others saw something faintly marked against the horizon. +It <i>was</i> a sail.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Costello either was gifted with longer sight, or her excitement +sharpened her faculties. She declared that it was certainly the expected +boat; it was one, she knew well, and could recognize distinctly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>They began to speculate as to the time of its arrival; and while they +spoke, still watching eagerly, they did not notice how the sky darkened. +The horizon still remained light; it even grew brighter; but the +brightness was only a line, surrounded with a silvery border; the black +cloud spread out overhead. By-and-by the wind began to rise again in +long, wailing blasts, as it had done that morning. The edges of the +cloud seemed to be torn into long, jagged fringes, and there fell sharp, +momentary showers of snow and sleet, hissing as they touched the water. +The boat came on fast now; but at intervals it was hidden; once, when a +denser obstacle than usual of rain and drift and frosty mist had come +between it and the land, there appeared in the lull that followed +another object much further away, but moving down the river also. It was +a large steamer coming down from the lakes, and hurrying on before the +storm.</p> + +<p>Again the distance was hidden. Again, after a longer interval, the two +boats were seen—the small one tacking from side to side, using every +contrivance to hasten its course, and reach the port; the other holding +steadily and swiftly on its way.</p> + +<p>But as the wind increased there came with it a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> dense fog. Gradually it +settled down over the river and then the wind sank, blowing only, as at +first, in single gusts, which wailed horribly round the house and +through the trees about it. There was nothing to see now, but still the +three kept their places at the window, and hoped the fog might rise if +but for a moment, and show them where the boat was.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, indeed, the fog did vary in intensity. A current of wind +seemed to sweep through it, and then they could distinguish the lights +which the steamer was now burning at the mast head, and guess how far +distant that still was. But these lights seemed at last to be almost +close at hand; and the boat, which had been at first so much before the +steamer, ought to be quite near also. It might be even now passing the +place where they were, on its way to the village at the further end of +the island.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford reminded Mrs. Costello of this, and proposed that they +should start on their return.</p> + +<p>"If we delay much longer," he said, "it will be quite dark, and besides, +the paths are getting every moment more choked up."</p> + +<p>She rose instantly.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," she said, "I ought to have thought;" but still, as +she fastened her cloak, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> continued to keep her eyes fixed upon the +veil of fog which hung between her and the river.</p> + +<p>Mr. Strafford and Lucia both stopped to say a few words to Sunflower, +who was still busy with her cakes, but Mrs. Costello never ceased to +look out until she was obliged to follow the others from the house. The +air was bitterly cold; and, hastened by storm and mist, the night was +coming on fast. They paused for a moment outside the wicket; and Mrs. +Costello, looking at Mr. Strafford with a consciousness that her wish +was foolish and unreasonable, said—</p> + +<p>"I should like to go down quite to the shore, just for a moment, to try +if I can see anything."</p> + +<p>He turned instantly and walked with her to the very extremity of the +little point, Lucia following.</p> + +<p>They stood exactly on the spot where she had landed as a bride, and +looked out into the darkness. Suddenly she grasped Mr. Strafford's arm.</p> + +<p>"Listen!" she said, "there are oars close by."</p> + +<p>"Impossible," he answered. "See, the steamer's lights are just there +opposite us. It must be turning round to go into Claremont."</p> + +<p>But she bent her head forward listening. For even through the beat of +the paddles, which she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> could now distinguish plainly, it still seemed +that she heard the sound of oars, and she thought,</p> + +<p>"They have given up trying to use their sails, and taken to rowing."</p> + +<p>Suddenly a current of wind passing along the surface of the water lifted +the fog. Just to their right, towering high in the air and holding a +swift, steady course, came the steamer; but in front of it, scarcely a +dozen yards from its huge bulk, lay the little boat. In that moment, as +the fog rose and showed the danger, a single cry of terror burst from +the boatmen and from those on shore. Instantly afterwards a shout was +heard on board the steamer, and the engines were reversed; but the space +was awfully small, and the monster, carried by the strong current, bore +on still. Lucia hid her face; Mrs. Costello, still leaning forward, +tightened her grasp on the arm that supported her. Mr. Strafford +unconsciously spoke aloud,</p> + +<p>"In the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, Good Lord deliver +us."</p> + +<p>And as he spoke the crash came. Next moment the boat had disappeared, +and the steamer still swept on.</p> + +<p>Neither of the three on shore saw more than this.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> At the moment when +the boat was struck and sunk, Mr. Strafford felt Mrs. Costello's clasp +loosen on his arm. He turned just in time to save her from falling, and +carried her back into the house in one of those fainting fits which so +much alarmed Lucia. It did not, however, last long; and when she had a +little recovered, he left her and went out again.</p> + +<p>The fog had once more settled down, but he could distinguish the many +lights which now gleamed from the deck and from the windows of the +steamer which still lay where it had been stopped. Voices were audible, +too, and he contrived to make out that boats had been let down to search +for the fisherman and his companions. This was all that could be learned +here, and he became anxious to reach home, that he might himself cross +to Claremont and learn what was known there.</p> + +<p>He went back to the house, therefore, and found Mrs. Costello quite +determined, in spite of her weakness, to start at once on their walk +back. With painful forebodings and regrets, therefore, they left the +promontory, and walked as fast as they were able towards the village.</p> + +<p>Little was said on the way; but as soon as they were near his house, Mr. +Strafford told his com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>panions of his intention. Neither could find +anything to say against it; but Mrs. Costello looked anxiously at him +while he explained that he meant to take a good boatman with him and +burn a bright light. Then she held out her hand to him to express the +thanks she had no words for.</p> + +<p>They found Mrs. Hall unhappy at their absence, and ready to do +everything possible for their comfort; but it was not until she had seen +Mr. Strafford push off from the landing-place that Mrs. Costello could +be induced to lie down and rest.</p> + +<p>Then there was nothing more to be done, and she submitted readily; and +so great was her exhaustion that she almost instantly fell asleep. Lucia +and Mrs. Hall sat watching her, and two hours passed before she woke.</p> + +<p>At last, she moved, and Lucia was glad to see that her face was less +pale than when she lay down, and that she looked up at her with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Strafford come back?" she said. "He will bring us good news, I +think."</p> + +<p>"He has not come yet," Lucia said; but almost as she spoke, footsteps +were heard outside. Mrs. Hall hurried to open the door, and Mr. +Strafford came in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They are safe?" Mrs. Costello asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; all three. There was the man and two boys—one of them his son. +The steamer's boat picked up the boys almost immediately. The man's arm +is broken; and he was carried a little way down the stream before they +found him."</p> + +<p>"Are they at Claremont?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. They will go back home by the steamer to-morrow, and you will hear +more of them when you return to Cacouna."</p> + +<p>"And the boat?"</p> + +<p>"No one knows anything of that. In the darkness and confusion it must +have floated away with the current."</p> + +<p>There was another question to ask, but she stopped, scarcely knowing how +to ask it. Mr. Strafford understood her silence.</p> + +<p>"The man told me," he said, "that the coffin was on deck, and that when +the steamer struck them the boat capsized. He himself clung to the side +for a moment when it was upside down in the water, so that everything on +board, which was not secured, must have gone to the bottom."</p> + +<p>So it was. Standing beside the home of her married life, she had +witnessed her husband's burial.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> After his stormy life he was not to +rest in quiet consecrated ground; but to lie where the current of his +native river washed over him continually and kept him in perpetual +oblivion. It was better so. No angry feelings had followed him to his +death; but having been freely forgiven, it was well that he should leave +no memorial behind him—not even a grave—but pass away and be +forgotten. When all was over, Mrs. Costello felt this. For Lucia's sake, +it was well—let the dead go now, and make way for the living.</p> + + +<h4>END OF VOL. II.</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 2, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 2 *** + +***** This file should be named 18122-h.htm or 18122-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/2/18122/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship 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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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 2 + A Novel + +Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill + +Release Date: April 5, 2006 [EBook #18122] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 2 *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship 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)) + + + + + + + + + + + + A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + A Novel. + + + BY + + THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS." + + + "Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando, + E disse: Or ha bisogno il tuo fedele + Di te, e io a te lo raccomando."--_Inferno. Canto II._ + + + "Qu'elles sont belles, nos campagnes; + En Canada qu'on vit content! + Salut o sublimes montagnes, + Bords du superbe St. Laurent! + Habitant de cette contree + Que nature veut embellir, + Tu peux marcher tete levee, + Ton pays doit t'enorgueillir."--_J. Bedard._ + + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + VOL. I. + + + LONDON: + TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND. + 1873. + [_All rights Reserved._] + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + +A CANADIAN HEROINE. + + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Mrs. Costello had felt it a kind of reprieve when she heard from Mr. +Strafford that they might delay their journey safely for a month. The +sober middle age which had come upon her before its time, as her life +rolled on out of the anguish and tumult of the past, made home and +quietness the most desirable things on earth to her, and her health and +spirits, neither yet absolutely broken, but both strained almost to the +extent of their endurance, unfitted her for the changes and excitements +of long travel. So she clung to the idea of delay with an unacknowledged +hope that some cause might deliver them from their present terrors, and +yet suffer them to remain at Cacouna. + +In the meantime all went on outwardly as usual. The duties and +courtesies of every-day life had to be kept up,--the more carefully +because it was not desirable to attract attention. Besides, Mrs. +Costello felt that an even flow of occupation was the best thing for +Lucia, whom she watched, with the keenest and tenderest solicitude, +passing through the shadow of that darkness which she herself knew so +well. Doctor Morton brought his wife home most opportunely for her +wishes. A variety of such small dissipations as Cacouna could produce, +naturally celebrated the event; and Lucia as principal bridesmaid at the +wedding could not, if she would, have shut herself out from them. She +had, indeed, dreaded the first meeting with Bella, but it passed off +without embarrassment. To all appearance Mrs. Morton had lost either the +sharpness of observation or the readiness of tongue that had formerly +belonged to her, for the change which Lucia felt in herself was allowed +to remain unremarked. + +Mrs. Bellairs had long ago got over her displeasure with Lucia. She had +watched her narrowly at the time of Percy's leaving, and became +satisfied that there was some trouble of a sterner kind than regret for +him now weighing heavily upon her heart. + +Although Mrs. Bellairs told her sister of the intended journey of Mrs. +Costello and Lucia, the preparations for that journey were being made +with as little stir as possible, and except herself, her husband, and +Mr. Leigh, few persons dreamed of such an improbable event. Bella even +received a hint to speak of it to no one but her husband, for Mrs. +Costello was anxious to avoid gossip, and had taken much thought how to +attain the _juste milieu_ between secrecy and publicity. In the meantime +there was much to be done in prospect of a long, an indefinitely long, +absence, and the needful exertion both of mind and body was good for +Lucia. Under no circumstances, perhaps, could she have sat quietly down +to bewail her misfortunes, or have allowed herself to sink under them, +but, as it was, there was no temptation to indolent indulgence of any +kind. Bitter hours came still--came especially with the silence and +darkness of night, when her thoughts would go back to the sweet days of +the past summer and linger over them, till some word, or look, or +trifling incident coming to her memory more distinctly, would bring with +it the sudden recollection of the barren, dreary present,--of the +irreparable loss. + +In all her thoughts of Percy there was comfort. He had loved her +honestly and sincerely, and if his nature was really lower than her own, +she was not likely to guess it. She had acted, in dismissing him, on a +kind of distrust, she would have said, of human nature; more truly, of +him; but even this distrust was so vague and so disguised that it never +shadowed his character in her eyes. So, though she had parted from him, +she took comfort in the thought of his love, and kept it in her heart to +save herself from the overwhelming sense of degradation, which took +possession of her in remembering why she had sent him away from her. + +It was this feeling which, in spite of her courage and her pride, had +brought to her face that look of real trouble of which Mrs. Bellairs had +spoken. It was a look of which she was herself entirely unconscious, +more like the effect of years of care, than like that of a sudden +sorrow. With this change of expression on her face, and sobered, but +cheerful and capable as ever in her ways and doings, Lucia made her +preparations for leaving the place which was so dear and familiar to +her. + +Mrs. Costello's spirits had risen since their plans were settled. The +burden which was new to Lucia had been her companion for years, and, +except when the actual terror of falling once again into her husband's +hands was upon her, she had come to bear it with resignation and +patience. She had, of late years, endured far more on her child's +account than on her own; and to find that Lucia met her share of +suffering with such steady courage, and still had the same tender and +clinging love for herself, was an inexpressible relief. She had faith in +the words she had said on the night when the story of her life had been +told, she believed that a better happiness might yet come to that +beloved child than the one she had lost. So she lived in greater peace +than she had done for years before. + +But her greatest anxiety at this moment regarded Mr. Leigh and Maurice. +She had waited for news of Maurice's arrival in England and reception by +his grandfather, before writing to him, as she had promised to do. For +she wished him to be able to decide, on receiving her letter, what was +the best plan for Mr. Leigh's comfort, in case he should himself be +detained in Norfolk. The accounts which the first mail brought showed +plainly that this would be the case. Mr. Beresford had immediately taken +a fancy to his grandson, and would scarcely spare him out of his sight. +Mrs. Costello, therefore, wrote to Maurice, telling him that the time +she had half anticipated had really arrived, and that she and Lucia were +about to leave Canada. At the same time she had a long conversation with +Mr. Leigh, describing to him more of her circumstances and plans than +she wished any other person to know, and expressing the regret she felt +at leaving him in his solitude. A question, indeed, arose whether it +would not be better for him to leave his large solitary house, and +remove into the town, but this was soon decided in the negative. He +would remain where he was for the present. Maurice might yet return to +Canada; if not, possibly next year he might himself go to England. One +circumstance made Mrs. Costello and Lucia more inclined to favour this +plan--the old man's health had certainly improved. Whether it was the +link to his earlier and happier life, which had been furnished by the +late relenting of his wife's father, or from some other cause, he seemed +to have laid aside much of his infirmity, and to have returned from his +premature old age to something like vigour. + +A fortnight yet remained before the cottage was to be deserted, when +Doctor Morton and his wife returned home. The gossip of the +neighbourhood which, as was inevitable, had been for a little while busy +with Mr. Percy and Lucia, was turned into another channel by their +coming, and people again occupied themselves with the bride. Lucia was +obliged to visit her friend, and to join the parties given on the +occasion, and so day after day slipped by, and the surface of affairs +seemed so unchanged that, but for one or two absent faces, it would have +been difficult to believe in all that had happened lately. + +But, of course, it did at last become known that Mrs. Costello was going +away. She and Lucia both spoke of it lightly, as an ordinary occurrence +enough; but it was so unlike their usual habits, that each person who +heard the news instantly set himself or herself to guess a reason, and, +connecting it with the loss of Lucia's gay spirits, most persons came +naturally to one conclusion. + +It did not matter whether they said, "Poor Lucia!" with the +half-contemptuous pity people give to what they call "a disappointment," +or "What else could she expect?" "I told you so!" or any other of the +speeches in which we express our delight in a neighbour's +misfortunes--every way of alluding to the subject was equally +irritating to Mrs. Bellairs, who heard of it constantly, and tried in +vain to stop the tongues of her acquaintance. She could not do it; and +what she feared most, soon happened. Lucia came, in some way, to be +aware of what was going on, and this last pain, though so much lighter +than those she had already borne, seemed to break down all her pride at +once. In her own room that night she sat, hour after hour, in forlorn +wretchedness--her own familiar friends, the companions of her whole +life, were making her misery the subject of their careless gossip. They +knew nothing of the real wound which she had suffered, but they were +quite ready to inflict another; and the feeling of loneliness and +desertion which filled her heart at the thought was more bitter than all +that had gone before. She remembered Maurice, and wondered drearily +whether he too would have misjudged her; but for the moment even her +faith in him was shaken, and she turned from her thoughts of him without +comfort. + +But this mood was too unnatural to last long. Before morning her courage +had returned, and her strong impulse and desire was to show how little +she felt the very sting which was really torturing her. She stood long +before her glass that morning. The face which had grown hateful to +herself was still beautiful to others. She studied it in every line. She +wanted to see what there could be in it to give people the idea of +love-sickness. She wanted to force back into it the old light and +gaiety. Impossible! With a shudder she covered it with her hands. Never +again could she be a child. She had passed through the storm, and must +bear its traces henceforward. But, at least, it had been the thunderbolt +of heaven, and not the hand of man, which had wounded her. Her very +sorrow was sacred. She lifted up her head again, and saw that there was +a calm upon her face, which was better than pride. Instinctively she +knew that none but idiots could look at her with contempt, or the pity +which is so near it; and she went out into her little world again, sad +at heart, but steadfast and at peace. So the days passed on, and grew +into weeks, and the time for their leaving Cacouna came very near. It +had been delayed more than a week beyond the month on which Mrs. +Costello had first counted for security; but on the very eve of their +departure she had overcome her anxiety, and was secretly glad to make +the most of every little excuse for lingering yet another and another +day at the cottage. + +It was now Monday evening, and on Wednesday they were to start. A letter +from Maurice had arrived that morning--the first which he had written +after receiving news from home, and it contained an enclosure to Mrs. +Costello, which Lucia wondered her mother did not show her. But she +would have wondered more, perhaps, if she had known why, in spite of the +easily-read wistfulness in her glance, that note was so carefully +withheld from her. It alluded, in fact, too plainly to the conversation +in which, for the first time, Maurice had, just before going away, +spoken to Mrs. Costello of herself and his affection for her. He said +now, "My father has sent me an account of Miss Latour's wedding, which +he said he made Lucia describe to him for my benefit. But I have a +curiosity to hear more about it, or rather about her. To tell the truth, +I am longing for a letter from you, not only to bring me news of my +father, but to satisfy me that all my hopes are not being built upon an +impossibility. Is Percy still at Cacouna? Don't laugh at me. My +occupations here leave me plenty of time to think of you all, and I +depend upon you not to let me be left quite in the dark on the subject +to which I cannot help giving most of my thoughts." + +Mrs. Costello smiled to herself as she read; but she put off Lucia's +questioning with a very unfaithful summary of the contents of the note. +It was certainly strange how much vague comfort she took in the +knowledge of Maurice's love for her child. It might have seemed that the +same causes which had parted Lucia from Percy, and which she had said +would part her from the whole world, would be just as powerful here; but +the mother had at the bottom of her heart a kind of child-like +confidence that somehow, some time, all must come right, and in the +meantime she loved Maurice heartily, and wished for this happy +consummation almost as much for his sake as for her daughter's. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +There was a good deal of difference in the aspect of the country above +and below Cacouna. Below it the river bank was high; and cultivated and +fertile lands stretched back for a mile or two, till they were bordered +and shut in by the forest. Above, the bank was low. Just beyond the town +lay the swamp, which brought ague to the Parsonage and its neighbours. +On the further side of this was the steam sawmill, and a few shanties +occupied by workmen; and higher still, a road (called the Lake Shore +Road, because, after a few miles, it joined and ran along the side of +the lake) wound its way over a sandy plain, studded with clumps and +knots of scattered trees or brushwood. Rough, stubbly grass covered a +good deal of the sand, but here and there the wind had swept it up into +great piles round some obstacle that broke the level, and on these +sand-hills wild vines grew luxuriantly, covering them in many places +with thick and graceful foliage, and small purple clusters of grapes. +There were pools, too, in some places, where water-lilies had managed to +plant themselves, and where colonies of mud-turtles lived undisturbed; +and there were shady places by the sides of the pools, where the brown +pitcher-plant held its cups of clear water, and the ghost-flower +glimmered spectrally among the dead leaves of last year. But the plain +generally was hot and sunny in summer, and very dreary in winter; for +the larger trees which grew upon it were oaks, and when they were bare +of foliage, and the sand-hills and the pools had a deep covering of +snow, the wind swept icily cold over its wide space. In September the +oaks were still in leaf, and the grass green, and, though they were but +stunted in size and coarse in texture, both were pleasant to look at. +The sunshine was no longer hot, but it was serenely bright, and there +was as lovely a blue overhead as if the equinox were months away. + +A light waggon came winding in and out with the turnings of the +road--now crossing a wooden bridge, now passing through the shadows of a +dozen or more oaks which grew close together. Sometimes, when the ground +was clear, the waggon went straight through one of these groups. +Sometimes it turned aside, to avoid the thick brushwood underneath. The +"waggon," which was neither more nor less than a large tray placed upon +four wheels, and having a seat for two people, was occupied by two young +men, Harry Scott and George Anderson. They were coming down from their +homes, two farms which lay close together some little distance up the +lake, and were going first to the sawmill and then to the town. But they +were in no particular hurry, and the afternoon was pleasant, so they let +their horse take his own time, and came jogging over the sand at a most +leisurely pace. + +They had passed that very piece of land which had given Dr. Morton so +much trouble lately; it was natural enough, therefore, that their chat +should turn to speculations as to his success in ejecting Clarkson from +his house, and the Indians from their fisheries. + +"More trouble than it's worth," said George Anderson; "there is not a +tree on the land that will pay for cutting down." + +"Very likely not; but the land may not be bad; and it is a capital +situation. I only wish it were mine," answered Harry, who had his own +reasons for wishing to be a little more independent in circumstances. + +"Tell you what," said George, making a knot on the end of his whip-lash, +"my belief is, that it is quite as much for pleasure as profit that the +Doctor is so busy about his land." + +"Pleasure?" + +"Yes. Do not you see any pleasure in it? By Jove, I asked him something +about Clarkson the other day; and if you'd seen his face, you'd believe +he enjoyed the fight." + +"Well, that's not unlikely. He's a great brute, that Clarkson. I should +not mind pitching into him myself." + +"I should, though," said George laughing; "the chances of his pitching +into me in return would be too strong." + +Harry shrugged his shoulders. "He has a queer character certainly; but +of the two, I think I should be more afraid of disturbing the Indians, +especially if I had to ride about the country at all hours. It would not +be very difficult to waylay the Doctor; and I dare say some of them are +savage enough to do it, if they had a serious grudge against him." + +"I don't believe they have pluck enough to do anything of the kind. Look +what miserable fellows those are that Dawson has at the mill now. They +look as if all the spirit had been starved out of them." + +So they went on talking until they caught glimpses of the mill before +them, whenever their way lay over the open ground; and then George +Anderson touched the horse with his whip, and they began to get over the +remaining distance more quickly. They were trotting briskly round the +side of a low thicket of brambles, when suddenly a horse, which was +grazing on the further side, raised its head and looked at them. There +was nothing remarkable in that, certainly, for horses were not +unfrequently turned out there; but what was remarkable, was that this +one had a bridle on. George involuntarily tightened his reins; and the +next moment the animal, which seemed to have been disturbed by their +coming, trotted slowly across the road in front of them. It was bridled +and saddled, and the saddle was a little on one side, as if it had been +dragged round. Harry sprang from the waggon. He followed the horse, and +in a minute or two caught and led it back to where George, who had also +dismounted, was now tying his to a tree. + +They both recognized the runaway. Harry said one word as he led it up, +"Doctor Morton!" and with a horror-struck face pointed to a dark wet +stain partly on the saddle, partly on the horse's neck. + +George darted round the thicket, and in a moment a cry called Harry to +the same place. A bridle path, more direct than the road, ran close +beside the thorn bushes, and there, half hidden in branches and leaves, +lay something--something that had once been human and living. Dark pools +of blood lay about it, and there were horrible gashes and wounds as if +the murderer had been unable to satisfy his rage, and had taken a +frantic pleasure in mutilating his victim. + +The two young men stood and looked at each other and at the ghastly heap +before them. Silently with white faces they questioned each other what +to do? To touch what lay there seemed almost impossible, and any thought +of succour was hopeless; but something must be done. They both drew away +from the spot before they spoke. Then Harry said in a low voice, "There +are plenty of men at the mill; you might fetch some of them." + +George went towards the waggon without a word; but just as he was going +to get in he turned round, + +"No, Harry, you must go. Somebody must take the news on to Cacouna, and +that can't be me." + +"Very well." + +Harry was in the waggon instantly, and away. His first errand was +quickly done. In a very few minutes George could see, from the place +where he kept watch, that the men began to hurry out of the mill, and +come towards him in a confused throng. Some, however, stayed to bring a +kind of dray with them, and then, when these also had started, he could +see Harry Scott moving slowly off in the waggon towards the town. + +The dray came lumbering over the sand, and the men gathered round the +dreadful heap under the brambles which must be lifted up and laid upon +it, yet which no one seemed ready to be the first to touch. But, at +last, it was done; the distorted limbs were smoothed and the wounds +partially covered; and some semblance of humanity came back to the dead +form as it was carried slowly away towards home. When this had been +done, there was time for another thought--the murderer? + +Perhaps every one present had already in his heart convicted one person, +but even in the excitement of horror some one had sense enough to say, +"There ought to be a search made--there may be some trace." + +Nor was it difficult to find a trace. At a very little distance from the +spot itself there appeared marks upon the grass as if footsteps, heavy, +and wet with dark-coloured moisture, had trodden there. They followed +the tracks, and came to a place where many low bushes growing close +together formed a kind of thicket. Almost buried in this, the figure of +a man lying upon the ground filled them for a moment with a new +consternation--but this was no lifeless body. They dragged it out--a +squalid, miserable object, with bleared eyes and red disfigured face, a +drunken, half-imbecile Indian. + +He was so overcome, indeed, with the heavy sleep of intoxication that +even when they made him stand up, he seemed neither to see anything nor +to hear the questions of the men who knew him and called him by his +name. But there were answers to their questions in another shape than +that of words. The hatchet that lay beside him and the stains of blood +still wet upon his ragged clothing were conclusive evidence. + +They led him away, after the little procession which had gone on with +the dray and its load, but he neither resisted, nor indeed spoke at all. +He seemed not to understand what was going on; and the men about him +were for the moment too full of horror, and of that awe which belongs to +the sight of death, to be much disposed to question him. + +So they took murderer and victim both to the sawmill, and there waited, +dreading to carry their ghastly load into the town till such warning as +was possible had been given. + +Meantime Harry Scott, with his mind full of his mission, drove towards +Cacouna. He saw nothing of the people he passed, or who passed him; he +saw only the sight he had just left, except when there rushed into his +recollection for a moment the wedding-day scarcely six weeks ago, and +the certainty of happiness which then seemed to wait both bride and +bridegroom. And now? "Poor Bella!" broke from his lips, and he shuddered +as he fancied, not Bella, but his cousin Magdalen crushed down in her +youth by such a blow as this. But the momentary, fanciful connection of +the two girls, did but make him the more tender of the young widow. +"Widow!" he said the word half aloud, it seemed so unnatural, so +incredible. But while he thought, he was drawing very near his +destination; for he had at once decided that the proper thing to do was +to find Mr. Bellairs, and leave him to carry the news as he might think +best to his sister-in-law. At the door of the lawyer's office, +therefore, the reluctant messenger stopped, and went in with his face +still full of the strange excitement and trouble of his mission. + +A few words can tell the happiest or the saddest news life ever brings +us; all that Harry knew could be told in two sentences, and, half +announced as they were by his looks, Mr. Bellairs instantly understood +the message, and why it was brought to him. He took his hat, and before +Harry was quite sure whether he had made him understand what had really +happened, he was halfway to his own house. + +An hour later, the dray, now more carefully arranged and covered, +brought its load to the door of the house which had been so lately +prepared for the bride's coming home. For convenience' sake they carried +the body into a lower room, and laid it there until its burial, while +Bella sat in her chamber above, silent and tearless, not understanding +yet what had befallen her, but through her stunned and dreary stupor +listening from habit for the footsteps which should have returned at +that hour--the footsteps which death had already silenced for ever. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +It is easy to imagine how, in so small a community as Cacouna, the news +of a frightful crime committed in their very midst, would spread from +mouth to mouth. How groups of listeners would gather in the streets, +round every man who had anything of the story to tell. How the country +people who had been in town when the murdered man was brought home, +hurried along the solitary roads with a kind of terror upon them, and +carried the news out to the villages and farms around. As to the +murderer, there was a strange confusion in the minds of many of the +townspeople. Doctor Morton's feud with Clarkson had been so well known +that, if there had been any signs of premeditation or design about the +crime, suspicion would have turned naturally upon him. But there was no +such appearance, nor the smallest reason to suppose that Clarkson had +been within half a mile of the spot that day. On the contrary, no +reasonable doubt could exist that the real murderer was the Indian who +had been found among the bushes. The men who knew him spoke of him as +passionate, brutal, more than half-savage--there was perfect fitness +between his appearance and character, and the barbarous manner of his +crime. And yet while everybody spoke of him as undoubtedly guilty, +almost everybody had a thought of Clarkson haunting his mind, and an +uneasy desire to find out the truth, entirely incompatible with the +clearness of the circumstantial evidence. + +It was already nearly nine o'clock when Margery going from the Cottage +to Mr. Leigh's, on some errand to his housekeeper, brought back with her +the story which a passing acquaintance had carried so far. She came into +the parlour full of the not unpleasant sensation of having a piece of +strange and horrible news to tell. + +Mrs. Costello had left the room for a moment and Lucia was alone, +sitting rather drearily looking into the fire, with her work fallen +into her lap, when Margery came in. + +"Miss Lucia, there's an awful thing happened." + +"What, Margery?" Lucia half smiled, for Margery loved marvels, and made +much of them. + +"Doctor Morton is dead." + +"Impossible! Hush, don't say it." + +"It is true, miss. This afternoon." + +"But how? It is incredible." + +"He was found, Miss Lucia, lying dead by the roadside a piece beyond +Dawson's mill. And they found the man that did it." + +"You don't mean to say that he had been--" she stopped, shuddering. + +"Murdered. Yes," and Margery went into all the details she had heard +from her gossip. + +Mrs. Costello, attracted by the tone of their voices, had come to the +door between the parlour and her bedroom, and stood there listening. +Both she and Lucia, who, like every one else except perhaps his wife, +had heard of the doctor's proceedings against Clarkson, thought only of +him as the murderer until Margery finished her recital with-- + +"It all comes of having them savages of Indians about. I never could +abide the sight of them." + +Lucia caught a glimpse of her mother's face. She felt her own muscles +stiffen with fear. With desperate strength she steadied her voice. + +"What do you mean about Indians?" she said. + +"It is an Indian as done it," Margery answered half indignant. "There's +no white man, let him be ever such a brute, would have chopped the body +up like that." + +"You said they had taken the murderer?" + +"They took him, and he's in gaol. Dawson's men knew him. He has been +working for Dawson lately. They say he comes from Moose Island. Mr. +Strafford would know him most like." + +There was nothing further to be asked, and Margery went out of the room, +seeing no more than the natural horror on those two white faces of +mother and daughter, which dreaded to meet and read the thought, in each +other's eyes. + +It was for this, then, that they had delayed their journey. Neither +doubted for a moment the guilt of the wretched creature who was the +haunting terror and misery of their lives; and it was not strange that, +overwhelmed with the stronger and more personal interest, they should +forget to wonder or lament over the dead, cut down in the very beginning +of life, or to think of the desolate and widowed bride meeting her first +grief in the unnatural guise of murder. + +Mrs. Costello came back to her chair by the fireside. She could no +longer take her fears and anxieties into the solitude of her own room, +and hide them there. There was both pain and comfort in knowing that +Lucia now shared with her every additional weight--even this last, which +she scarcely yet comprehended. But it was some time before either spoke. +Each was trying to gauge the new depth which seemed to have opened under +their feet--the wife and daughter of a murderer! The old ignominy, the +old degradation, had been all but intolerable. How then should they bear +this? And their secret, must it not be known now? become the common +gossip of the country, of the people who had called them friends? Each +felt instinctively that their thoughts were running on in the same +channels, each shrank from words. Yet, it was needful to consult, to ask +each other the question, "What shall we do?" + +At last Mrs. Costello roused herself. + +"We must put off our journey," she said, with a smothered sigh, which, +indeed, had nearly been a groan. + +Lucia looked up. + +"It may not be true," she answered, knowing that there was no need to +say what "it" was--the idea which had seized upon both their minds with +so deadly a grasp. + +"It may not, God grant it! But we must know; and if it is, I ought to be +here." + +"Mother, you cannot. It will kill you." + +Mrs. Costello smiled, the wan smile of long-taxed patience. + +"No," she said, "I think not. Life is hard for both of us, hardest +perhaps for you, darling, just now, but I have no thought that it is +over yet for either of us." + +Lucia came and knelt down in her old place by her mother's side. It +always seemed as if thus close together, able to speak to each other as +much by caresses as by words, they were both stronger, and could look +more calmly at the calamities which threatened them with every evil +except that of separation. + +"You will write to Mr. Strafford?" Lucia asked. + +"Yes; but first we must know certainly." + +"And how to do that?" + +"There will be no difficulty to-morrow. Mr. Leigh is sure to hear the +particulars. I will go and ask him about them." + +"You do not mean to tell him?" + +"No; it will be easy enough without that, to ask about a subject which +every one will be talking of." + +"Mamma, I can go to Mr. Leigh as well as you. I can go better, for I +shall not suffer as you will, and I can bring you home a faithful +account of what I hear." + +"Darling, all this is new to you. I have had to serve a long +apprenticeship to learn self-restraint." + +Lucia laughed bitterly. "See the advantage of my Indian blood," she +said. "Trust me, mother, I will be as steady as those ancestors of mine +who bore torture without flinching." + +Mrs. Costello bent down and kissed her child's forehead. + +"Yours is a better heroism, Lucia; for mental pain is harder to bear +than physical, and you would suffer to save me." + +"We suffer together, mamma. I must take my share. To-morrow I shall go, +as usual, to Mr. Leigh's, and bring back all I can learn. But he will +wonder to see me, and still more if he hears that we are not going +away." + +"You must simply tell him our journey is put off. He will ask no +questions, and only think I am very dilatory and changeable. No one else +is likely to think of us at all for a day or two to come." + +They were silent again for a little while. Lucia's thoughts, relieved +from the first heavy pressure on them by the very fact of having spoken, +began to turn from the criminal to the victim; from their own share in +the horror to that of others. One thing seemed to stand out clear and +plain from the confusion which still enveloped all else. She, the +daughter of the murderer, could never again meet the wife of the +murdered man as a friend. If the punishment of the father descended to +the children, did not their guilt descend too? Already she seemed to +feel the stain of blood upon her hand, and to shrink from herself, as +all innocent persons ought to do, henceforward. And Bella, her old +companion and friend, must shrink from her most of all; the very spirit +of the dead would surely rise up to forbid all intercourse between them. + +Lucia had not boasted of her self-command without reason. A mind +naturally strong, and supported both by pride and affection, had enabled +her to meet with courage the bitterness and misery of the past weeks. +But she was only a girl still, and had not learned to rule her thoughts +as well as her looks and words. So if they grew morbid, and her dreary +imagination sometimes tortured her uselessly and cruelly, it was no +great wonder. She could suffer and be silent; but she had not yet learnt +so to rule her spirit as to save herself needless suffering. + +Thus the very intensity of her sympathy for Bella only reacted in +loathing and horror of herself; and she had begun to try to devise means +for carrying out that avoidance of all most nearly connected with the +dead, which seemed to her an imperative duty, when she was startled by +her mother's voice. + +"If it is he," she said--and it seemed that they both shrank from any +plainer expression of their thoughts than these vague phrases--"if it is +he our hardest task is before us. How will you bear, Lucia, to meet +them all again?" + +"Mother, I cannot! Surely you do not think of it. How can _we_"--she +shuddered as she spoke--"how can we go again among any innocent people?" + +"My child, we _must_. More than that, we must keep our secret, if we +can, still." + +"But Bella? Mother, how can I look at her--a widow--and know who I am, +and who has done it?" + +"Listen to me, Lucia. My poor child, your burden has been heavy lately; +do not make it heavier than it need be. The crime and the horror are bad +enough, but we have no share in them. No; think of it reasonably. The +wife and child of a criminal, even where there has been daily +association between them, are not condemned, but rather pitied. No mind, +but one cruelly prejudiced, would brand them with his guilt. Do not +punish yourself, then, where others would acquit you. But, indeed, I +need not tell you how our very separation is a safeguard to us--to you +especially. Think of these things; and do not suffer yourself to imagine +that there is a bar between you and Bella just now, when I know you +love her more than ever." + +Lucia's head lay upon her mother's knee. Mrs. Costello's touch on the +soft hair, her tone of gentle reproof, and the thoughts her words called +up, brought tears, fast and thick, to her child's eyes. Lucia had shed +few tears in her life. Until lately she had known no cause for them; and +lately they had not come. With dry eyes and throbbing temples she had +gone through the most sorrowful hours; but now the spell seemed broken, +and a sense of calm and relief came with the change. Mrs. Costello went +on,-- + +"There is another reason why we must appear as we have always done. +Suspicion is not proof. Margery's story, and more, may be true, and yet +it may be that, three months hence, all, as regards ourselves, will be +just as it has been. We must not, through a blind fear of one calamity, +put ourselves in the way of another. Neither of us can look much at the +future to-night; but we must not forget that there is a future. So it is +still the old task which is before us, to keep our secret." + +The voice had been very steady until the last word; but as that was +spoken, it faltered and failed so suddenly that Lucia looked up. She +sprang to her feet, but just in time. The over-tried strength had given +way, and Mrs. Costello had fallen back in a deep fainting fit. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Lucia dared not call Margery to her assistance. The consciousness of +having something to conceal made her dread the smallest self-betrayal. +She hastened, therefore, to do alone all that she could do for her +mother's recovery; but it was so long before she succeeded that she grew +almost wild with terror. At last, however, the deathly look passed away, +and with the very first moment of returning animation, the habit of +self-control returned also. Mrs. Costello smiled at her daughter's +anxious face. + +"I am afraid," she said, "that you will have to get used to these +attacks. Do not be frightened; you see they pass off again." + +"But you never used to have them?" + +"No; but youth and strength cannot last for ever." + +"Mamma! you are not old; you are not much more than forty yet." + +"Forty-two in years; but there are some years that might count for ten." + +"It is this horrible pressure upon you; you are being tortured to +death!" + +"Hush, my child. What I suffer is but the just and natural consequence +of what I did. Be patient, both for me and for yourself. By-and-by we +shall see that all is right." + +Hard doctrine! and only to be learnt by long endurance. Lucia rebelled +against it, but she could not argue with her mother's pale face and +faintly spoken words to oppose her. She busied herself softly in such +little offices as her anxiety suggested, and they spoke no more that +night of the subjects nearest to their hearts. + +But when Mrs. Costello was alone, she began to think of Maurice. She +felt, even before she began to think, that something which had been a +stay and prop to her hitherto had suddenly been snatched away, and she +had now to realize that this support was her confidence in him. For a +long time she had grown accustomed to rest upon the idea that a safe +and honourable future was secured for her child, and this had made +present trials and difficulties endurable. She had seen Percy's +courtship with bitter disappointment, although she had miscalculated its +issue, and through all her sympathy with Lucia, she had secretly +rejoiced at his dismissal; she had felt no scruples in hearing from +Maurice, at the very moment when his prospects had suddenly changed and +brightened, the assurance of his attachment, and she had received his +note that very day with a joy which almost resembled that which a girl +feels who hears from his own lips that her absent lover is faithful to +her. To this mother, cut off from every tie but that of motherhood, her +child was the one only absorbing interest; she had loved Maurice, but +she knew now that she had loved him chiefly as the representative of +Lucia's future safety and happiness. It had never occurred to her that +her own strange marriage, that the race or the character of her husband, +which had been recognized by both mother and daughter as insuperable +obstacles in Percy's case, would estrange the nobler and truer nature. +The whole miserable story would have to be told, she had thought, when +the time came, but she had neither feared its effect on Maurice nor felt +any compunction at the idea of his carrying into an honourable family a +wife whose parentage was her terror and disgrace. + +But now that the disgrace had grown immeasurably darker, now that her +story might have to be told, not privately and with extenuation, but in +coarse hard words, and to the whole of the little world that knew her; +now that every one who would, might be able to point at her as the +daughter of a murderer,--how would it be? + +With the feeling that at length she was indeed left alone and helpless, +Mrs. Costello put from her the last fragment of her dream. There was +still, it is true, the want of positive knowledge that Christian was the +criminal, but in her own heart she had already accepted the evidence +against him, and it seemed to her that all which remained to be done +with regard to Maurice was to write and tell him, not all the +truth--there was no need for that, and he might hear it soon enough from +other sources--but that the hopes they had both indulged in had deceived +them, and must be laid aside and forgotten. + +And when her long meditation came to an end, she said softly to herself, + +"Thank God, _she_ does not know. And I have been ready to complain of +the very unconsciousness which has saved her this!" + +Mr. Leigh was surprised, as Lucia had expected, when she went next day, +just as usual, to pay him her morning visit. He was easily satisfied, +however, with the slight reasons she gave him for their delay, and glad +of anything that kept them still at the Cottage. + +There was no need for her to ask any questions about the event of +yesterday. All that was known by every one had been told to Mr. Leigh +already by an early visitor, and he, full of horror and sympathy, was +able to tell the terrible story over again to a listener, whose deep and +agonizing interest in it he never suspected. + +But to stay, after the certainty she sought for was obtained; to talk +indifferently of other matters; to regulate face and voice so as to show +enough, but not too much, of the tumult at her heart, was a task before +which Lucia's courage almost gave way. Yet it was done. No impatience +betrayed her, no sign of emotion beyond that of natural feeling for +others was allowed to escape her; only her hands, which lay quietly +clasped together in her lap, gradually tightened and contracted till the +pressure of her slight fingers was like that of iron. + +At last she was released; and exhausted as if with hard physical +exertion, she came back to the Cottage with her news. + +There was no need to tell it. The hopeless look which, when she dared be +natural, settled in her eyes, told plainly enough that there was no +mistake of identity. Only one hope remained, and that so feeble that +neither dared to acknowledge it in her heart, though she might speak of +it as existing--the hope that after all the prisoner might be innocent. + +Mrs. Costello wrote that day to her faithful friend and counsellor, Mr. +Strafford. + +"I am in a terrible strait," she said, "and it is to you only in this +world that I can look for aid. My whole life, as you know, has been +given to my daughter--for her I have thought and planned, and in her I +have had my daily consolation. But now I begin to remember that I am not +a mother only, but also a wife. Have I a right to forget it? Can +anything excuse a wife who does so? Tell me what I ought to do; for if +ever I am to think of my husband it must be now. + +"Yet it seems to me that, for Lucia's sake, I must still, if possible, +keep my secret. I long to send her away from me, at this moment, but she +has no friends at a distance from Cacouna, and besides, our separation +would certainly excite notice. I might, indeed, send her to England; my +cousin, I believe, would receive her for a while; but there, you know, I +cannot follow her, and a long parting is more than I have courage to +think of. So I come back to the same point from which I started. I am +almost bewildered by this new wretchedness that has fallen upon us; and +I wait for your sympathy and counsel with most impatient eagerness." + +She had not, however, to wait long. The country post, always irregular, +for once favoured her anxiety, and only two days afterwards came a +hurried note, bringing the best possible answer. Mr. Strafford wrote, + +"The fact of one of my people being in such trouble would bring me to +Cacouna if I had no other reason for coming. I shall be with you, +therefore, the day after you receive this. No one, I should think, +need, for the present at least, know of any connection whatever between +your family affairs and my visit. My errand is to try what can be done +for the unhappy prisoner, and, as an old friend, I shall ask your +hospitality during my stay. Then I will give you what advice and help I +can; of my truest and warmest sympathy I know I need give you no +assurance." + +To both mother and daughter this note brought comfort, though Lucia had +no knowledge whatever of the many thoughts regarding her father which +had begun to occupy her mother's mind. To her, strange and unnatural as +it may seem, he was simply an object of fear and abhorrence. She hated +him as the cause of her mother's sufferings, of their false and insecure +position, and of the self-loathing which possessed her when she thought +of their relationship. The idea of any wifely duty owing to him could +never have struck her, for what visions of married life she had, +belonged to a world totally unlike that of her parents' experience, and +she regarded what she knew of that as something beyond all reach of +ordinary rules or feelings. + +Yet much as she would have wondered had she known it, her mother's +thoughts were coming to be hour by hour more occupied with that long +unseen and dreaded husband, who had indeed been her tyrant, but who was +still bound to her by ties of her own weaving, and who was the father of +her child. A strange mixture of feelings had taken the place of her old +fear and disgust; there was still horror, especially of the new guilt +which separated him more than ever from her purer world, but there was a +deep and yearning pity also. She felt sure, before Mr. Strafford +arrived, that he would tell her she was right; that Christian--even by +the very act which had put him out of the ranks of ordinary men, out of +the place, low and degraded as it was, which he had filled among his own +people--had recovered a claim upon her, and that she must not fail to +give him in his need what succour might be possible. She was right, and +Lucia heard with dismay that their secret was about to be betrayed to +the very person from whom most of all it had hitherto been kept. + +Nothing, however, was to be done rashly. Mr. Strafford arrived late in +the evening, and next day he proposed to go to the jail to see +Christian, which he knew there would be no difficulty in doing, and to +bring back to Mrs. Costello such an account as would enable her to judge +how far her interference might or might not be useful. There was still a +chance that it might be useless, and to that hope Lucia clung with a +pertinacity which added to her mother's anxieties. + +In the three days which had now passed since the murder, the minds even +of those most nearly concerned had had time to rally a little from the +first shock, and to begin to be conscious of the world around them going +on just as usual in spite of all. Doctor Morton had been to a singular +degree without relatives. An old and infirm uncle, living a long +distance from Cacouna, was almost the only person connected with him by +blood; it was to her own family alone, therefore, that Bella had to look +for the deepest sympathy. But the whole neighbourhood had known her from +a child; and in her great grief every one seemed ready to claim a share. +All the kindness and goodness of heart which in ordinary times was +hidden away under the crust of each different character, flowed out +towards the young widow, and as she sat in her desolate house, sorrow +seemed to invest her with its royalty, and to transform her old friends +into loyal subjects, eager to do her but the smallest service. + +And in the midst of this universal impulse of sympathy, and of the +reverence which great suffering inspires, it was impossible for the +Costellos to remain apart. Their own share in the misery did not prevent +them from feeling for the others who knew nothing of their partnership; +and Lucia forgot to accuse herself of hypocrisy when she was admitted +into the darkened room, where her once gay companion sat and watched +with heavy eyes the passing of those first days of widowhood. No one +would have recognized Bella Latour now. She sat, wan and half-lifeless, +caring for nothing except now and then to draw round her more closely a +great shawl in which she was wrapped, as if the only sensation of which +she was still capable were that of cold. Hour after hour she neither +spoke nor moved, until her sister, alarmed, and anxious by any means to +arouse her from her stupor, implored Lucia to see her, to try to make +her speak or shed the tears which, since she had seen the body of her +husband, seemed to be frozen up. + +Mrs. Bellairs had not been mistaken in hoping for some good result from +Lucia's visit. At the sight of her a flood of colour rushed to Bella's +deathlike face, and she half rose to meet her; but when she felt the +long tender kiss which had a whole world of tender pity in its silent +language, she turned suddenly away, and throwing herself upon a couch, +sobbed with the passionate vehemence of a child. From that moment she +was eager to keep Lucia with her. She did not care to speak, but the +sight of one so associated with her lost happiness seemed a consolation +to her; and thus, with her own heavy weight of uncertainty and distress, +the poor girl had to take up and bear patiently such share as she could +of her friend's. After the first, too, there came back such a horrible +sensation of being a kind of accessory to the crime which had been +committed, that the mere sight of Bella's face was torture to her. + +In this way the day of Mr. Strafford's arrival and the next one, that of +his first visit to the jail, passed with Lucia. It was not until quite +evening that she could leave the closed-up house and its mistress; and +never had a road seemed so long to her as that from Cacouna to the +Cottage. Her mind, roused into feverish activity, recurred to the night +when she had met Percy on that very road; she saw again, in imagination, +the figure of the Indian--of her father, as she now believed--rising up +from the green bank. She saw Percy, and heard his words, and then +remembered with bitter shame and anger that the brutal creature from +whom he had saved her, had nevertheless had power to separate them for +ever. And to this creature her mother thought herself still bound! She +grew wild with impatience to know the result of Mr. Strafford's +mission. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +Lucia came with flushed cheeks and beating heart into the presence of +her mother and Mr. Strafford. She longed to have her question answered +at once, yet dreaded to ask it. They were waiting tea for her; and the +bright cheerful room, with its peaceful home-look, the table and +familiar tea-service, the perfectly settled and calm aspect of +everything about, struck upon her disturbed fancy with a jarring sense +of unfitness. But in a very little while the calm began to have a more +reasonable effect; and by the time tea was over, she was ready to hear +what had been done, without such an exaggerated idea of its importance, +as she had been entertaining during her long hours of suspense. + +Yet still she did not ask; and after a little while, Mrs. Costello said, + +"Mr. Strafford has been all the afternoon in Cacouna. I have scarcely +had time yet to hear all he had to tell me." + +Lucia glanced at her mother and then at their friend; she was glad the +subject had been commenced without her, and only expressed by her eyes +the anxiety she felt regarding it. + +Mr. Strafford looked troubled. He felt, with a delicacy of perception +which was almost womanly, the many sided perplexities increasing the +already heavy trial of Mrs. Costello's life. He grieved for the child +whom he had known from her birth now plunged so young into a sea of +troubles, and as he saw how bravely and steadily she met them, his +desire to help and spare her grew painfully strong. If he could have +said to them both, "Go, leave the miserable wretch to his fate, and find +a home where you will never need to fear him again," he would have done +it with most genuine relief and satisfaction; but he could not do so--at +least, not yet; and duty was far from easy at that moment. + +"Yes," he said as cheerfully as he could, in answer to Lucia's glance. +"I have been in Cacouna for some hours to-day and I shall be there again +to-morrow. I own, Lucia, I have not unlimited faith in circumstantial +evidence." + +Lucia started, and her heart seemed to give a great leap--could he mean +that the prisoner was innocent? A week ago she would have said that the +burden of disgrace lay upon them too heavily to be much increased by +anything that could happen, and now she knew by the wild throb of hope +how its weight had been doubled and trebled since the shadow of murder +had been hanging over them. But the hope died out at once, for there was +nothing in her mind to feed it, and she had sunk back into her enforced +quiet before she answered, + +"Will you tell me what the evidence is, if you have heard at all +exactly, and what you have seen to-day?" + +There was nothing of girlish excitement or agitation in her words or +tone. Mr. Strafford wondered a little, but at once did as she asked. + +"The evidence appears to be very simple and straightforward. From the +way in which the crime was committed and the body found, there is no +reason to suppose that it had been planned beforehand. The mode in which +death was inflicted showed, on the other hand, that it was not the +result of a hasty or chance blow--but really a murder, though +unpremeditated. Quite near to the place where the body lay, a man was +found hidden among the bushes. His hands and clothes were marked with +blood; he had by him a hatchet which had all the appearance of having +been used to inflict the wounds on the murdered man, and a heavy stick +which might well have given the first blow. His being but clumsily +hidden is accounted for easily, for he was evidently intoxicated; and +lastly, he is known to have been connected with a party of smugglers who +used to land their goods on Beaver Creek, and who had reason to dislike +Doctor Morton." + +A deeper breath, a slight relaxing of the closed lips, were the only +signs from either mother or daughter how this brief and clear account, +riveting as it did upon their minds the certainty of guilt, had been +endured as people endure the necessary torture of the surgeon's knife. +Neither spoke, but waited for what was to follow. + +Mr. Strafford's tone changed. "I have told you what you will have to +hear from others," he said; "and, without doubt a stronger case would be +difficult to find. Unless something new should come to light, I do not +think many people will even feel the least uncertainty on the subject. +But I do." + +He paused, and then went on; not, however, without keeping an anxious +watch on the faces opposite to him, lest his touch, however gentle, +should press too hardly upon their quivering nerves. + +"In the first place it appears that there is a man on whom, if this +prisoner could be cleared, suspicion would naturally fall. This man, +Clarkson, I dare say you know by repute far better than I do, who never +heard of him till to-day; but he appears to have so bad a character that +no one would be shocked or surprised to hear that he was the murderer. +He had also a much stronger ill-will against Doctor Morton than any one +else, either Indian or white man, can be shown to have had. But yet +there is such an entire absence of any proof whatever that he did commit +the crime, that unless I wanted you to understand _all_ my reasons for +uncertainty, I would not speak of him even here in connection with it. + +"My next reason seems almost as shadowy as this; but it has considerable +weight with me, nevertheless. It is, that I believe the man who is in +prison for the murder has neither strength of body nor of nerve to have +committed it." + +He stopped as Mrs. Costello uttered a broken exclamation of surprise. + +"You would not know him," Mr. Strafford said gently, answering her look. +"He has changed so much since I saw him not many weeks ago, that even I +scarcely did so. They tell me that he has had an attack of fever while +he was in the bush, and that he was but half recovered from it when he +came back with the rest of the gang, a week ago." + +"And since then," Mrs. Costello asked, "where has he been?" + +"Not where he was likely to regain much strength. He and the other +Indians have been living in one of the shanties close to the mill. It is +extremely swampy and unhealthy there, and besides that, he seems to have +been almost without food, living upon whisky." + +Lucia shuddered still; but the wretched picture softened her, +nevertheless. A feeling of compassion for the first time stole into her +heart for the miserable creature who was her father. + +"But that day," she said; "do you know anything of that day?" + +"He seems to have been doing nothing--indeed I believe he had been +incapable of doing anything--for two or three days. That morning his +companions went out and left him lying on his bed asleep; they did not +see him again till after he was in custody." + +"Did you question him? What does he say?" + +"He says nothing. He remembers nothing. He seems to me to have been +suffering that day from a return of his fever, and besides that, he had +had some whisky--very little would overcome a man in his condition--so +that if he crawled out into the sunshine, and finally lay down among the +bushes to sleep, it is perfectly credible that the murder might have +been committed close to him without his knowing anything about it." + +"But the hatchet? Was it not his?" + +"Yes. But he denies--whatever his denial may be worth--that the heavy +stick which was found by him, ever was his; and though it is a hard +thing to say, it can be imagined that the very things which fasten +suspicion on him may have been arranged for that purpose by another +person." + +"He does say something on the subject then, since he denies the stick +being his? Did he talk to you willingly on the subject?" asked Mrs. +Costello. + +Mr. Strafford answered her question by another. + +"Have you courage and strength to see him?" + +"Yes; if you think it well for me to do so." + +Lucia caught her mother's hand. + +"You have not, mamma, you must not go! Mr. Strafford, she cannot bear +the exertion." + +"You do not know what I can bear, my child. Certainly this, if it is +needful or advisable." + +"You will find it less trying in some ways than you perhaps expect," Mr. +Strafford went on, "and in others more so. There is nothing in the man +you will see to remind you of the past, and yet my great reason for +thinking it well for you to see him is a hope that you may be able to +recall the past to him, so as to bring him back to something like +clearness of comprehension. It seems as if nothing less would do so." + +"What do you mean? Does not he know you?" + +"I can scarcely tell. I do not know why I should not tell you plainly +the truth, which you will have to hear before you see him. His mind is +either completely gone, or terror and imprisonment have deadened it for +the time. The other men who have been working with him say that he was +sane enough when he was sober up to the time of the murder. Certainly he +is not sane now. But that may well be a temporary thing caused by his +illness and the confinement." + +Mrs. Costello had covered her face with her hands. + +"And you think," she said, looking up, "that the sight of me might bring +back his recollection. But is there anything to be gained by doing so if +we succeed? Is not his insanity the best thing that could happen?" + +"I think not in this case. People seem to have made up their minds that +he was sane enough, on that day, to be accountable for what he did; and +if we could only recall him to himself, he might be able to give us +some clue to the truth." + +"I will go then," she answered; and Lucia saw that it would be only +inflicting useless pain, to make any further objections. But she was not +satisfied. + +Mr. Strafford saw her concerned and uneasy look, and said, + +"It is an experiment worth trying, Lucia. If it does not succeed, I +promise that I will not recommend it to be repeated." + +"But, Mr. Strafford, all Cacouna will know of my mother's going to the +jail--she who never goes anywhere." + +"That has been the great difficulty in the way, certainly, but I think +we can manage it. The jailer, Elton, is a good man, and truly concerned +about the condition of his prisoner. He talked to me to-day about him so +compassionately, that I asked whether it would be possible for any one +residing in the town to be allowed to visit him. He said any one I chose +to bring with me should see him, and therefore there need be no gossip +or surprise at your mother going, first of all." + +There was no more to be said; and each of the three was glad to let the +conversation drop and try to turn their thoughts to other and less +painfully absorbing subjects. But to mother and daughter all other +subjects were but empty words; memory in the former, and imagination in +the latter were busy perpetually with that one who, by the laws of God +and man, ought to have been the third at their fireside--who had been +for years a vagrant and an outcast, and was now the inmate of a +murderer's cell. Innocent perhaps--and it was strange how that +possibility seemed slowly but surely to grow in both their minds; +shadowing over, and promising by-and-by to dim in their remembrance the +hideous recollections of the past. + +Mr. Strafford's words had thus already begun to bear fruit. As for +himself, the doubt he had expressed was merely a doubt--a matter of +speculation, not of feeling. Still, while it remained in his mind, it +was a sufficient reason for using every possible means of discovering +the truth, and scarcely needed the additional impulse given by his warm +regard for Mrs. Costello and Lucia, to induce him to devote himself, as +far as his other duties would allow, to the unfortunate Christian. He +was anxious to bring the long separated husband and wife together, not +merely for the reason he had spoken of, but because he thought that if +their meetings promised comfort or benefit to the prisoner, it would be +his wife's duty to continue them; while if they proved useless, she +might be released from all obligation to remain at Cacouna. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The change which had taken place in the fortunes of Maurice Leigh was +one that might have dazzled him a little, if he had not had a strong +counteracting influence in the thought of all he had left in Canada. He +found himself, without hesitation or difficulty, but with a suddenness +which was like the transformations in a fairy tale, changed from a +Backwoods farmer's son into an important member of an old and wealthy +family. Only the other day he had been working hard and holding up to +himself as the reward of his work, the hope of becoming a successful +provincial lawyer; now he was the heir, and all but the actual +possessor, of a splendid fortune and an estate which gave him a foremost +place among English country gentlemen. + +His arrival at Hunsdon, his grandfather's house, had been a moment of +some embarrassment both to him and to Mr. Beresford. Each had some +feeling of prejudice against the other, yet each felt that it was only +by having a mutual liking and regard that they could get on comfortably +together. Happily their very first meeting cleared up all doubts on the +subject. Mr. Beresford instantly decided that a grandson who so strongly +resembled his own family, and who even in the backwoods had managed to +grow up with the air and manner of a gentleman, would be, in a year or +two, quite qualified to become Squire of Hunsdon, and that in the +meantime he would be a pleasant companion. + +Maurice, on the other hand, forgot his grandfather's former harshness, +and reproached himself for his unwillingness to come to England, when he +saw how solitary the great house was, and how utterly the feeble and +paralytic old man was left to the care and companionship of servants. He +wondered at first that this should be so, for the rich generally have no +want of friends; but the puzzle soon explained itself as he began to +know his grandfather better. Mr. Beresford had been a powerful and very +active man; he had been proud of his strength and retained it to old +age. Then, suddenly, paralysis came, and he was all at once utterly +helpless. His son was dead, his granddaughter married, and away from +him; his pride shrank from showing his infirmity to other relatives. So +he shut the world out altogether, and by-and-by the loneliness he thus +brought upon himself, growing too oppressive, he began to long for his +daughter's children. + +The moment Maurice came, and he was satisfied that he should like him, +he became perfectly content. His property was entirely in his own power, +and one of his first proceedings was, rather ostentatiously, to make a +will which was to relieve him of all future trouble about its disposal; +his next to begin a regular course of instruction, intended to fit his +grandson perfectly for the succession which was now settled upon him. + +In this way, two or three weeks passed on, and Maurice grew accustomed +to Hunsdon and to the sober routine of an invalid's life. It was not a +bright existence, certainly. The large empty house looked dreary and +deserted; and the library to which Mr. Beresford was carried every +morning, and where he lay all day immovable on his sofa, had the quiet +dulness of aspect which belongs to an invalid's room. There had been +some few visitors since Maurice's arrival, and what neighbours there +were within a reasonable distance seemed disposed to be as friendly as +possible; but still the monotony of this new life left him enough, and +more than enough, leisure for speculations on the past and future, which +had a large mixture of disturbing and uneasy thoughts to qualify their +brightness. He waited, too, with considerable curiosity for the return +of his cousin, who, with her husband, was away from home when he +arrived. She had married a neighbouring baronet, and when at home was a +frequent visitor at Hunsdon; and this was all that Maurice could learn +about her. + +But one morning, as he sat with Mr. Beresford, and the usual daily +conversation, or rather lecture, about some affairs connected with the +management of the estate was in full progress, a pony-carriage swept +past the windows and stopped at the door. + +"It is Louisa," said Mr. Beresford, and the next minute the door of the +room opened, and a little woman came in. She was so very little, that if +she had chosen, she might have passed for a child; but she had no such +idea. On the contrary, she had a way of enveloping herself in sweeping +draperies and flowing robes that gave her a look of being much taller +and infinitely more dignified than Nature had intended. She came in, in +a kind of cloud, through which Maurice only distinguished an exceedingly +pretty bright face, and a quantity of fair hair, together with a sort of +soft feminine atmosphere which seemed all at once to brighten the dull +room as she went straight up to her grandfather's sofa, and bent down to +give him a kiss. + +"So you are come back?" Mr. Beresford said. "But you see, I have +somebody else now. Here is your cousin Maurice." + +Lady Dighton turned round and held out her hand. "I am very glad to see +my cousin," she said. "It was quite time you had somebody to take care +of you." + +She had a gay, careless manner, but her smiling eyes took a tolerably +sharp survey of the stranger nevertheless, and she was not ill satisfied +with the result. "He is very good-looking," she said to herself, "and +looks _nice_. Of course he must be very countrified, but we will help +him to rub that off." So she took him under her patronage immediately. +She said no more to him, however, at present, but occupied herself with +her grandfather, asking a great many questions, and telling him of the +places and people she and her husband had seen during their two months' +tour. Mr. Beresford was interested and amused; the little lady possessed +one decided advantage over Maurice, for she and her grandfather belonged +entirely to the same world, though to two different generations, and +could enter into the same subjects and understand the same allusions. +While they talked, Maurice had an opportunity of looking more +deliberately at his cousin. He liked her small graceful figure, her tiny +hands, and bright sunshiny face, with its frame of almost golden hair +arranged in full soft puffs; he liked the air of daintiness and +refinement about her dress, and the musical sound of her voice as she +talked. He admired her the more, perhaps, because she was quite unlike +the type of woman which was, in his thoughts, beyond admiration. But it +did occur to him how lovely Lucia would look, with the same advantages +of wealth and station as Lady Dighton, and a delicious vision swept past +him, of the old house brightening up permanently, under the reign of a +beautiful mistress. + +He had not many minutes, however, for fancies; the most important news +on both sides having been exchanged, the other two were coming to +subjects in which he could join, and went on smoothly and pleasantly +enough till luncheon. After that meal Mr. Beresford always went to +sleep; it was generally Maurice's holiday, when he could ride or walk +out without fear of being missed, but to-day he only strolled out on the +long portico in front of the house, while Lady Dighton went to have a +chat with the housekeeper. + +Presently, however, a gleam of bright colour appeared at the hall door, +and Maurice went forward and met her coming out. + +"Shall I get you a shawl?" he said; "it is not very warm here." + +"No, thank you; I like the cool air. I want to come out and talk to you, +for grandpapa takes up all my attention when I am with him." + +They began walking slowly up and down under the stone colonnade, which +had been added as a decoration to the front of the dark red brick house, +and Lady Dighton went on talking. + +"I was so glad when I heard you were here. Ever since poor papa's death +I have felt quite uncomfortable about grandpapa. I came over to see him +as often as I could, but, of course, I had to think of Sir John." + +"And Dighton is a good way from here?" Maurice said. He had not been +quite sure whether his cousin would not regard him as an interloper, +coming between her and her inheritance; and he was still sufficiently in +the dark, to feel the subject an awkward one. + +"Only six miles, fortunately. I say fortunately, _now_, because I hope +we are going to be very good friends, but till I saw you, I was not sure +whether it was fortunate. It is so disagreeable to have near neighbours +whom one does not like, especially if they are relations." + +Her frankness was amusing, but not very easy to answer. However, the two +or three words he found for the occasion did perfectly well. + +"You are exactly like the Beresfords," she went on, "and that I know +must please grandpapa. He never liked me because I am like my mother's +family. I don't mean that he is not fond of me in one way; I only mean +that my being like the St. Clairs instead of like the Beresfords is one +reason why he would never have left Hunsdon to me when there was +anybody else to leave it to." + +Maurice felt a little relieved and enlightened. His cousin then had +never expected to inherit Hunsdon; he took courage on that, to ask a +question. + +"But as he could not have thought until lately of making a child of my +mother's his heir, who was supposed to stand next in succession to my +uncle?" + +Lady Dighton gave a little sigh to the memory of her father. + +"Grandpapa always wished him to marry again," she said. "Mamma died six +years ago; then I was married, and from that time I know perfectly well +that grandpapa was continually looking out for a new daughter-in-law. He +was disappointed, however; I do not think myself that papa would have +married. At any rate he did not; and then, nearly two years ago, he +died." + +"And has my grandfather been alone ever since?" + +"Yes. For some time he was too much grieved to trouble himself about the +future--and then he was paralysed. Perhaps you have found out already +that Hunsdon is a great deal more to him than so many acres of land and +so much money? He loves it, and cares about it, more I believe than +about any living creature." + +"Yes; I can understand that the future of his estate is quite as +important as the future of a son or daughter would be." + +"Quite. He never could have borne the idea of its being joined to, or +swallowed up by another. Therefore, I do not think, in any case, he +would have left it to me. It was necessary he should have an heir, who +would be really his successor, and I am very glad indeed that he found +you." + +Maurice did not quite understand the slight unconscious sadness of the +tone in which Lady Dighton said, "in any case;" he did not even know +that the one baby who had been for a little while heir of Dighton, and +possible heir of Hunsdon, had died in her arms when the rejoicings for +its birth were scarcely over. But he felt grateful to her for speaking +to him so frankly, and his new position looked the more satisfactory now +he knew that no shadow of wrong was done to any one by his occupying it. + +Lady Dighton understood this perfectly well. She had a quick perception +of the character and feelings of those she associated with; and had +talked to Maurice intentionally of what she guessed he must wish to +hear. She had a great deal more to say to him, still, about her +grandfather and her husband, and the country; and wanted to ask +questions innumerable about his former home in Canada, his mother, and +everything she could think of, the discussion of which would make them +better acquainted. For she had quite decided that, as she said, they +were to be very good friends; and, to put all family interest and ties +on one side, there was something not disagreeable in the idea of taking +under her own peculiar tutelage a young and handsome man, who was quite +new to the world, and about entering it with all the prestige which +attends the heir of fifteen or twenty thousand a year. + +They were still talking busily when Mr. Beresford's man came to say that +his master was awake. They went in together and sat with him for the +rest of the afternoon, until it was time for Lady Dighton to go. When +she did, it was with a promise from Maurice, not to wait for a visit +from Sir John, who was always busy, but to go over and dine at Dighton +very soon; a promise Mr. Beresford confirmed, being in his heart very +glad to see such friendly relations springing up between his two +grandchildren. Maurice, on his side, was equally glad, for not only did +his new friendship promise pleasure to himself, but he had a secret +satisfaction in thinking how well his cousin and Lucia would get on +together if-- + +But then the recollection that he had left Cacouna in possession of Mr. +Percy came to interrupt the very commencement of a day dream. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Maurice paid his visit to Dighton--paid two or three visits, indeed--and +his cousin came to Hunsdon still oftener, so that in the course of a few +weeks, a considerable degree of intimacy grew up between them. Sir John +was, as his wife said, always busy; he was hospitable and friendly to +his new connection, but in all family or social matters he was content, +and more than content, to drop into the shade, and let Lady Dighton act +for both; so that Maurice, like the rest of the world (always excepting +his constituents and tenants), very soon began to consider him merely as +an appendage, useful, certainly, but not of much importance to anybody. + +In the progress of their acquaintance it was natural that the cousins +should often speak of Canada. Lady Dighton understood as little, and +cared as little, about the distant colony as English people generally +do; but she had considerable curiosity as to Maurice's past life; and in +her benevolent efforts to improve and polish him, she was obliged to +recognize the fact that, loyal Englishman as he was by birth, education +and association, he might have said truly enough, + +"Avant tout, je suis Canadien." + +She had no objection whatever to this; on the contrary, she had enough +romance in her disposition to admire all generous and chivalric +qualities, and her cousin's patriotism only made her like him the +better; but in spite of his frankness in most things, she had no idea +that this affection for his native country was linked to and deepened by +another kind of love. Lucia's name had never passed his lips, and she +had no means of guessing how daily and hourly thoughts of one fair young +Canadian girl were inseparably joined to the very roots of every good +quality he possessed. This ignorance did not at all arise from want of +interest. Her feminine imagination, naturally fertile on such subjects, +soon began to occupy itself with speculations in which every eligible +young lady in the country figured in turn. It was not to be supposed +that the heir of Hunsdon would find much difficulty in obtaining a wife; +the really embarrassing task for his mentors was to see that he looked +in the proper direction. And in this matter Mr. Beresford was not wholly +to be trusted. So, as it happened, Lady Dighton began to take a great +deal of perfectly useless thought and care for Maurice's benefit, at the +very time when he, all unconscious of her schemes, was beginning to +consider it possible that he might confide to her the secret of his +anxious and preoccupied thoughts. + +It happened that Mr. Leigh, unaware of the deep interest his son took in +the movements of Mr. Percy, only mentioned him in describing Bella +Latour's wedding, and omitted to say a word about his leaving Cacouna. +Thus it was not until three weeks after his arrival in England that a +chance expression informed Maurice that his dangerous rival was gone +away, without giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he had been +dismissed and was not likely to return. The same mail which brought +this half intelligence, brought also a letter from Mrs. Costello, which +spoke of her own and Lucia's removal as a thing quite settled, though +not immediate, and left the place of their destination altogether +uncertain. These letters threw Maurice into a condition of discomfort +and impatience, which he found hard to bear. He was extremely uneasy at +the idea of his father being left without companion or nurse. This +uneasiness formed, as it were, the background of his thoughts, while a +variety of less reasonable, but more vivid, anxieties held a complete +revel in the foreground. He had not even his old refuge against +troublesome fancies; for work, real absorbing work, of any kind was out +of the question now. His attendance on his grandfather, though often +fatiguing enough, was no occupation for his masculine brain. If he had +been a woman, he would have had a far better chance of imprisoning his +mind as well as his body, in that sober, undisturbed, sick room; but +though he could be almost as tender as a woman, he could not school +himself into that strange kind of feminine patience, which even Lucia, +spoiled child as she was, instinctively practised and grew strong in, +while she tended his father. + +He found himself perpetually losing the thread of some relation or +dissertation which was intended for his benefit, and that of Hunsdon +under his rule; he ran serious risk of displeasing Mr. Beresford, and +finally he became so weary of thinking incessantly of one subject, but +never speaking of it, that he made up his mind to take his cousin to +some degree into his confidence. To some degree only--it could be a very +small degree indeed, according to his ideas, for he could not tell her +all, even of the little he knew, about the Costellos, and he had no +intention of speaking much about Lucia, only mentioning her as an old +playfellow of his sister's; quite forgetting that he would have either +to change his own nature, or to dull Lady Dighton's ears and eyes, +before he could talk of _her_, and not betray himself. + +But a good opportunity for this confidence seemed hard to find, and +whenever one did really occur Maurice let it slip, so that time passed +on, and nothing was said; until at last, a new trouble came, so heavy +and incomprehensible as entirely to eclipse the former ones. + +One morning, about six weeks after his arrival at Hunsdon, there arrived +for Maurice two Canadian letters and a newspaper; the letters from his +father and Mrs. Costello, the newspaper addressed by Harry Scott. +Maurice dutifully opened Mr. Leigh's letter first; he meant just to see +that all was well, and then to read the other; but the news upon which +his eye fell, put everything else for the moment out of his head. He +glanced half incredulously over what his father said, and then tore open +the newspaper to seek for its confirmation. He had not far to seek. Two +columns of the thin provincial sheet were scored with black crosses, and +bore the ominous heading, "Dreadful Murder!" in the largest capitals. He +read the whole terrible story through, and thought, as well as he could, +over it, before he remembered the second and still unopened letter. + +But no sooner had he opened and read this, than the news which had just +before seemed to bring the most fearful realities of life and death so +near to him, faded away almost out of his recollection to make way for +the really personal interest of this calamity. Mrs. Costello wrote, + +"I have done wrong; and I should feel more difficulty, perhaps, in +asking you to forgive me, if I did not, with you, have to regret the +bitter disappointment of my hopes and wishes. You and Lucia must not +meet again, unless, or until, you can do so without any thought of each +other except as old playfellows and friends. This sounds cruel, I know, +and unreasonable,--all the more so after the confidence there has been +between us lately; but you must believe me when I say that I have tried, +more than I ought, to keep for myself the consolation of thinking that +my darling would some day be safe in your care, and that this +consolation has been torn from me. But what can I say to you? My dear +boy, only less dear to me than Lucia, I know you will, you _must_, blame +me, and yet it is for your sake and for that of my own honour that I +separate you from us. You have a right that I should say more, hard as +it is. My daughter, whom you have known almost all her innocent life, +would, if you married her, bring, through those most nearly and +inseparably connected with her, a stain and a blot upon your name; no +honourable man can ever make her his wife, and the best prayer that can +be made for her is, that she may remain as unconscious of all earthly +love as she is now of yours. We are going away, not just yet, but very +soon, to try to lose ourselves in the world; very possibly an +explanation of much that I have not courage to tell you may soon become +so public that even in England you may hear of it, and thank me for what +I have written." + +The letter broke off abruptly, but there was a postscript reminding him +that no one, not even his father, knew more, or, indeed, as much as he +did, of her secret, and bidding him not betray her; this postscript, +however, remained at first unnoticed: there was enough in the letter +itself to bewilder and stupefy its unfortunate reader. He went over it +again and again, trying, trying to understand it; to make certain that +there was not some strange mistake, some other meaning in it than that +which first appeared. But no; it was distinct enough, though the writing +was strangely unsteady, as if the writer's hand had trembled at the +task. The task of doing what? Only of destroying a hope; and hope is not +life, nor even youth, or strength, or sense, or capacity for work, and +yet when Maurice rose from his solitary breakfast-table, and carried his +letters away to his own room, although he looked and moved, and even +spoke to a passing servant just as usual, he felt as if he had been +suddenly paralysed, and struck down from vigorous life into the shadow +of death. He sat in his room and tried to think, but no thoughts came; +only a perpetual reiteration of the words, "You and Lucia must not meet +again." Over and over, and over again, the same still incomprehensible +sentence kept ringing in his ears. It was much the same thing as if some +power had said to him, "You must put away from you, divorce, and utterly +forget, all your past life; all your nature, as it has grown up, to this +present time; and take a different individuality." The two things might +equally well be said, for they were equally impossible. He laughed as +this idea struck him. His senses were beginning to come back, and they +told him plainly enough that any separation from Lucia, except by her +own free choice and will, was as impossible as if they were already +vowed to each other "till death us do part." There was so much comfort +in this conviction that at last he was able to turn to the latter part +of the letter, and to occupy himself with that mysterious yet terrible +sentence, which said that Lucia, his purest and loveliest of women, whom +all his long intimacy had not been able to bring down from the pedestal +of honour and tender reverence on which his love had placed her, would +bring a blot upon her husband's name. + +In the first place, he simply and entirely refused to believe in the +truth of the assertion; it was a fancy, an exaggeration at the least, +and in itself, not a thing to be troubled at; but allowing that the idea +could not have existed in her mother's mind without some foundation, +what could that foundation be? To consider with the most anxious +investigation everything he knew of the Costellos, their life, their +characters, their history, brought him some comfort, but no +enlightenment. He supposed, as all Cacouna did, that Mrs. Costello was +the widow of a Spaniard, and that her husband had died when Lucia was an +infant, but how to make any of these scanty details bear upon the fact +that now, lately, since he himself had left Cacouna, something had +happened, either unforeseen, or only partly foreseen by Mrs. Costello, +which brought disgrace and misery upon her and her child, he did not in +the least understand. Personal disgrace, the shadow of actual ill-doing, +resting upon either mother or daughter, was too utterly improbable a +thought ever even to enter his mind; but what the trouble could be, or +whence it came, he seemed to be less and less capable of imagining, the +more he thought and puzzled over the matter. And the hint that +by-and-by the mystery might be unravelled, not only to him, but to the +whole world, was far from giving him comfort. Rather than have Lucia's +name dragged out for vulgar comment, he would have been content to let +her secret remain for ever undiscovered; and besides, this unwelcome +revelation promised to come too late, when the Cottage was empty and its +dearly loved occupants were gone far away out of his very knowledge. + +Fortunately for Maurice, Mr. Beresford was later than usual in leaving +his room that day, so that he had two hours in which to grow at least a +little accustomed to his new perplexities before he had to attend his +grandfather in the library. Even when he did so, however, he found it +impossible to force his thoughts into any other channel, and his brain +worked all day painfully and fruitlessly at schemes for finding out Mrs. +Costello's secret, and demonstrating to her that far from its being a +reason for depriving him of Lucia, it was an additional reason for +giving her to him. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Maurice tried to relieve his impatience by spending the very first half +hour when he was not required to sit with his grandfather, in writing to +Mrs. Costello. If the Atlantic telegraph had but been in operation she +might have been startled by some vehement message coming in immediate +protest against her decision; but as it was, the letter which could not, +at the very best, reach her in much less than a fortnight, was full of +fiery haste and eagerness. As for reason or argument, it made no attempt +at either. It began with a simple unqualified declaration that what she +had said was, as far as it regarded Maurice himself, of no value or +effect whatever, that he remained in exactly the same mind as when he +left Canada, and that nothing whatever would alter him, except Lucia's +preference for some other person. He went on to say that he could still +wait, but that as the strongest purpose of his life would be to give +Lucia the choice of accepting or refusing him as soon as he had a home +to offer her, it was needless unkindness to try to conceal her from him. +Wherever she might be, he should certainly find her in the end, and he +implored her mother to spare him the anxiety and delay of a search. +Finally he wrote, "I cannot understand in the least what you can mean by +the reason you give for casting me off, but you seem to have forgotten +that if any disgrace (I hate to use the word), either real or imaginary, +has fallen upon you, it is the more and not the less needful that you +should have all the help and support I can give you. That may not be +much, but such as it is I have a right to offer it, and you to accept +it." + +The letter wound up with the most urgent entreaties that she would +answer it at once, and give up entirely the useless attempt to separate +him from Lucia; and when it was finished and sent off, quite regardless +of the fact that it would have left England just as soon if written two +days later, he began to feel a little comforted, and as if he had at +any rate put a stop to the worst evil that threatened him. + +But the relief lasted only a few hours. By the next day he was +tormenting himself with all the ingenuity of which he was capable, and +the task of amusing Mr. Beresford was ten thousand times harder than +ever. He did it, and did it better than usual, but only because he was +so annoyed at his own anxiety and absence of mind that he set himself +with a sort of dogged determination to conquer them, or at any rate keep +them out of sight. The more, however, that he held his thoughts shut up +in his own mind, the more active and troublesome they became, and an +idea took possession of him, which he made very few efforts to shake +off, though he could not at first see clearly how to carry it into +execution. + +This idea was that he must return to Canada. He thought that one hour of +actual presence would do more for his cause than a hundred letters--nay, +he did not despair of persuading Mrs. Costello to bring Lucia to +England, where he could keep some watch and guard over them both; but, +at any rate, he had a strong fancy that he might at once learn the +secret of her distress himself, and help her to keep it from others. He +calculated that six weeks' absence from Hunsdon would enable him to do +this, and at the same time to make arrangements for his father's comfort +more satisfactory than the present ones. The last inducement was, of +course, the one he meant to make bear the weight of his sudden anxiety, +and after much deliberation, or what he thought was deliberation, he +decided that the first thing to be done was to interest his cousin in +his plans and try to get her help. + +But as it happened, Lady Dighton was just at that moment away from home. +She and Sir John were staying at a house which, though nearer to Hunsdon +than to their own home, was a considerable distance for morning +visitors, even in the country. Still Maurice, who had some acquaintance +with the family, thought he might ride over and see her there, and take +his chance of being able to get an opportunity of explaining the service +he wanted her to do him. However, a slight increase of illness in Mr. +Beresford prevented him from getting away from home, and he was obliged +to wait with what patience he could for her next visit to Hunsdon. + +Mr. Beresford's health appeared to return to its usual condition, and +grateful for the comfort Maurice's presence had been to him during his +greater suffering, he seemed to be every day more satisfied with and +attached to his heir. The disadvantage of this was that he required more +and more of Maurice's company, and seemed to dislike sparing him a +moment except while he slept. This was not promising for the success of +any scheme of absence, but, on the other hand, there was so much of +reason and consideration for his grandson, mixed with the invalid's +exactions, that it seemed not hopeless to try to obtain his consent. + +After an interval of more than a week, Lady Dighton reappeared at +Hunsdon, and Maurice's opportunity arrived. It was during their +invariable _tete-a-tete_ while Mr. Beresford slept that the wished-for +conversation took place, and Lady Dighton unconsciously helped her +cousin to begin it by telling him laughing that she had been looking out +for a wife for him, and found one that she thought would do exactly. + +"You must contrive by some means or other," she said, "to get away from +Hunsdon a little more than you have been doing, and come over to Dighton +for a day or two, that I may introduce you." + +"I wish with all my heart," he answered quickly, "that I could get away +from Hunsdon for a little while, but I am afraid I should use my liberty +to go much further than Dighton." + +She looked at him with surprise. + +"I did not know," she said, "that you had any friends in England except +here." + +"I have none. What I mean is that I want to go back to Canada for a week +or two." + +"To Canada! The other side of the world! What do you mean?" + +"Nothing very unreasonable. I am very uneasy about my father, who is +almost as great an invalid as my grandfather, and has no one but an old +housekeeper to take care of him. I should like to go and bring him to +England." + +It was very well for Maurice to try to speak as coolly as possible, and +even to succeed in making his voice sound perfectly innocent and +natural, but he was of much too frank a nature to play off this little +piece of dissimulation without a tell-tale change of countenance. Lady +Dighton's sharp eyes saw quite plainly that there was something untold, +but she took no notice of that for the present, and answered as if she +saw nothing. + +"Have you worse accounts of his health?" + +"No; not worse. But he will be quite alone." + +"More alone than when you first left him? I do not quite understand." + +"Yes; some very near neighbours--old friends of his and my mother's--are +going to leave Cacouna. I had no reason to be uneasy about him while +they were there. Do you think my grandfather could be persuaded to spare +me for six weeks?" + +"Not willingly, I think. Could not my uncle come home without your +going?" + +Maurice felt as if he were caught in his own trap, but he recollected +himself in a moment. + +"There would be many things to do," he said. "Affairs to settle, the +farm to sell or let, and the household, small as it is, to break up." + +Lady Dighton laughed outright. + +"And you imagine that you could do all that, and carry your father off +besides, in the space of a fortnight, which is the very utmost you could +possibly have out of your six weeks! Really, Maurice, I gave you credit +for more reasonableness." + +"I have no doubt I could do it," he said, a little vexed, "and of +course I should try to get back as quickly as possible." + +"Well, let me see if I cannot suggest something a little more +practicable. Is there no person who would undertake the management of +the mere business part of the arrangements?" + +"Yes," Maurice answered a little reluctantly. "I dare say there is." + +"As for the breaking up of the household, I should think my uncle would +like to give the directions himself, and I do not see what more you +could do; and for anything regarding his comfort, could not you trust to +those old friends you spoke of?" + +Maurice shook his head impatiently. + +"They are going away--for anything I know, they may be gone now. No, +Louisa, your schemes are very good, but they will not do. I must go +myself; that is, if I can." + +"And the fact of the matter is that you want me to help you to persuade +grandpapa that he can spare you." + +"Will you help me? I know it will be hard. I would not ask him if I were +not half wild with anxiety." + +Lady Dighton looked at her cousin's face, which was indeed full of +excitement. + +"What a good son you are, Maurice," she said slowly. + +Maurice felt the blood rush to his very temples. + +"I am a dreadful humbug," he said, feeling that the confession must +come. "Don't be shocked, Louisa; it is not altogether about my father, +but I tell you the truth when I say that I am half wild." + +She smiled in a sort of satisfied, self-gratulatory way, and said, +"Well," which was just what was needed, and brought out all that Maurice +could tell about the Costellos. He said to himself afterwards that he +had from the first been half disposed to confess the whole story, and +only wanted to know how she was likely to take it; but the truth was +that, being as utterly unskilful as man could be in anything like +deception, he had placed himself in a dilemma from which she only meant +to let him extricate himself by telling her what was really in his mind. + +So Lady Dighton made her first acquaintance with Lucia, not, as Maurice +had dreamed of her doing, in bodily presence, but through the golden +mist of a lover's description; in the midst of which she tried to see a +common-place rustic beauty, but could not quite succeed; and half +against her will began to yield to the illusion (if illusion it was) +which presented to her a queenly yet maidenly vision, a brilliant flower +which might be worth transplanting from the woods even to the stately +shelter of Hunsdon. It was clear enough that this girl, whatever she +might be, had too firm a hold upon Maurice's heart to be easily +displaced; and his cousin, not being altogether past the age of romance +herself, gave up at once all her vague schemes of match-making in his +service, and applied herself to the serious consideration how to obtain +from her grandfather the desired leave of absence. + +She did not, of course, understand all the story. The impression she +derived from what Maurice told her was that Mrs. Costello, after having +encouraged the intimacy and affection between her daughter and him up to +the time of his great change of position and prospects, had now thought +it more honourable to break off their intercourse, and carry her child +away, lest he should feel bound to what was now an unequal connection. +This idea of Lady Dighton's arose simply from a misconception of +Maurice's evident reserve in certain parts of his confidence. _He_ +thought only of concealing all Mrs. Costello would wish concealed; and +_she_ dreamt of no other reason for the change of which he told her, +than the very proper and reasonable one of the recent disparity of +fortune. + +Maurice was so delighted at finding a ready ally that the moment his +cousin signified her willingness to help him, he began to fancy his +difficulties were half removed, and had to be warned that only the first +and least important step had been taken. + +"In the next place," Lady Dighton said, "we must consult Dr. Edwards." + +"What for," asked Maurice in some perplexity. + +"To know whether it would be safe to propose to my grandfather the loss +of his heir." + +"But for six weeks? It is really nothing." + +"Nothing to you or me perhaps, but I am afraid it is a good deal to him, +poor old man." + +"Louisa, I assure you, I would not ask him to spare me for a day if it +were not a thing that must be done now, and that I should all my life +regret leaving undone." + +She looked at him with an amused smile. People in love do so overrate +trifles; but she was really of opinion that he should go if possible. + +"Yes," she said, "I understand that. And I do not myself see any +particular cause for delaying since it must be done. But still I think +it would be well to ask the Doctor's opinion first." + +"That is easy at any rate. He will be here to-morrow morning." + +"And when do you wish to start?" + +"By the first mail. I would not lose an hour if I could help it." + +"You would frighten your father to death. No, you must wait a week +certainly." + +"I wish I were certain of being off in a week." + +"Unreasonable boy! You talk of going across the Atlantic as other people +do of going across the Channel. See, there is Brown, grandpapa must be +awake." + +They went into the library and found Mr. Beresford quite ready for an +hour or two of cheerful chat about the thousand trifles with which his +granddaughter always contrived to amuse him. Then she went away, turning +as she drove off to give Maurice a last encouraging nod; and not long +after, Mr. Beresford complained of being more drowsy than usual, and +asked Maurice to read him to sleep. + +A book, not too amusing, was found, and the reading began; but the +reader's thoughts had wandered far from it and from Hunsdon, when they +were suddenly recalled by a strange gurgling gasping sound. Alas! for +Maurice's hopes. His grandfather lay struggling for the second time in +the grasp of paralysis. + +They carried him to his bed, dumb and more than half unconscious; and +there day after day, and week after week, he lay between life and death; +taking little notice of anybody, but growing so restlessly uneasy +whenever Maurice was out of his sight, that all they thought of doing +was contriving by every possible means to save him the one disquiet of +which he still seemed capable. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The day after that on which Mr. Strafford paid his first visit to the +jail at Cacouna, was the one fixed for Doctor Morton's funeral. Lucia +knew that other friends would be with Bella, and was thankful to feel +herself at liberty to stay at home--to be with her mother up to the +moment of her going to that interview which Mr. Strafford advised, and +to be on the spot at her return to hear without delay whatever its +result might be. + +In the afternoon, while the whole town was occupied with the ceremony +which had so deep and painful an interest for everybody, Mrs. Costello +and her faithful friend started for the jail. They said little to each +other on the way, but as they drew near the end of their walk, Mrs. +Costello began to talk about indifferent subjects by way of trying to +lift for a moment the oppressive weight of thought which seemed almost +to stupefy her. But the effort was to little purpose, and by the time +they reached the door of the prison she was so excessively pale, and +looked so faint and ill, that Mr. Strafford almost repented of his +advice. It was too late now, however, to turn back, and all that could +be done was to say, "Take courage; don't betray yourself by your face." +The hint was enough, to one so accustomed to self-restraint; and when +the jailer met them, she had forced herself to look much as usual. + +But though she had sufficient command over herself to do this, and even +to join, as much as was necessary, in the short conversation which took +place before they were admitted to the prisoner's cell, she could not +afterwards remember anything clearly until the moment when she followed +Mr. Strafford through a heavy door, and found herself in the presence of +her husband. + +Then she seemed suddenly to wake, and the scene before her to flash at +once and ineffaceably into her mind. It was a clean bare room, with a +bed in one corner, and a chair and table in the middle; the stone +walls, the floor and ceiling, all white, and a bright flood of sunshine +coming in through the unshaded window. Sitting on the only chair, with +his arms spread over the table, and his head resting on them, was the +prisoner. His face was hidden, but the coarse, disordered dress, the +long hair, half grey, half black, lying loose and shaggy over his bony +hands, the dreary broken-down expression of his attitude, made a picture +not to be looked upon without pity. Yet the thing that seemed most +pathetic of all was that utter change in the man which, even at the +first glance, was so plainly evident. This visitor, standing silent and +unnoticed by the door, had come in full of recollections, not even of +him as she had seen him last, but of him as she had married him twenty +years ago. Of _him?_ It seemed almost incredible--yet for the very sake +of the past and for the pitiful alteration now, she felt her heart yearn +towards that desolate figure, and going softly forward she laid her hand +upon his shoulder. + +"Christian!" she said in a low and trembling voice. + +The prisoner slowly moved, as if waking from a doze. He raised his +head, pushed back his tangled hair and looked at her. + +What a face! It needed all her pity to help her to repress a shudder; +but there was no recognition in the dull heavy eyes. + +"Christian," she repeated. "See, I am your wife. I am Mary, who left +Moose Island so many years ago." + +Still he looked at her in the same dull way, scarcely seeming to see +her. + +"Mary," he repeated mechanically. "She went away." Then changing to his +own language, he said with more energy, "She is hidden, but I shall find +her; no fear," and his head sank down again upon his arm. + +His wife trembled as she heard the old threat which had pursued her for +so long, but she would not be discouraged. She spoke again in Ojibway, + +"She is found. She wants to help and comfort her husband. She is here. +Raise your head and look at her." + +He obeyed, and looked steadily at her, but still with the look of one +but half awake. + +"No," he said slowly. "All lies. Mary is not like you. She has bright +eyes, and brown hair, soft and smooth like a bird's wing. I beat her, +and she ran away. Go! I want to sleep." + +Mr. Strafford came forward. + +"Have you forgotten me, too, Christian?" he asked. + +Christian turned to him with something like recognition. + +"No. You were here yesterday. Tell them to let me go away." + +"It is because I want to persuade them to let you go, that I am here +now, and your--this lady, whom you do not remember, also." + +"What does a squaw know? Send her away." + +A look passed between the two friends, and the wife moved to a little +distance from her husband, where she was out of his sight. + +"I wish," Mr. Strafford said, "you could tell me exactly what you were +doing the day they brought you here." + +"I was sleeping," Christian answered. "I lay under the bush, and went to +sleep; and then they came and woke me, and brought me here. I want air!" +he cried, suddenly changing his tone, and springing up, he rushed to the +grated window, and seemed to gasp for breath. The small lattice stood +open, but the prisoner, devoured by fever, could not be satisfied with +such coolness as came in through it. He seized the iron bars with +trembling hands and tried to shake them; then finding it useless, went +back to his chair, and covering his face, burst into tears. + +Mrs. Costello was instantly at his side. In her strange, short married +life she had given no caresses to her tyrant; now, upon this miserable +wreck, she lavished all the compassionate tenderness of her heart. Mr. +Strafford stood by helpless, yielding to the woman her natural place of +comforter. For a moment, as she held his head upon her bosom and laid +her cool soft hand upon his burning forehead, Christian seemed to +recognize her; he looked up into her face piteously, and once or twice +repeated to himself, "Mary, Mary," but memory would not help him +further. She soothed him, however, much as if he had been some wretched +sick child, and after a time persuaded him to lie down on his bed, +where, almost immediately, he fell asleep. + +So they left him, and in going out, heard from the jailer that he often +slept thus for hours together--rarely eating, and asking only for water +and air. + +One thing had been effected by their visit. From the moment when the +prisoner, powerless henceforward to hurt or terrify her, was supported +by his wife's arms, and soothed by her voice, she began to believe, +completely and for ever, in his innocence of the crime of which he was +accused, and to be ready to fight his battle with all her energy and all +her resources. Only the recollection of Lucia prevented her from +instantly avowing the relationship so long concealed; and in the first +warmth of a generous reaction, she almost regretted that she had not +sent her child away, even to England, that she might now be free to +devote herself to Christian. On their return to the Cottage they found +Lucia watching with feverish anxiety for their coming and their news; +but it was not until mother and daughter were shut up together in Mrs. +Costello's room that all could be told. Nor even then; for the wife's +heart had been too deeply touched; and not even her child could see into +its troubled tender depths. But, nevertheless, Lucia caught from her +mother the blessed certainty that, though man's justice might not clear +the prisoner of murder, heaven's did; and they rejoiced together over +this poor comfort, as if all the rest of their burden were easy to bear. + +Afterwards a council was held as to what could be done for Christian's +defence. All legal help possible must be obtained, they decided, at any +risk; but to the two women this did not seem enough. One of them, at +least, would have liked to try any scheme, however difficult or absurd, +for fixing the guilt upon the true criminal, and so saving the false +one; but so far from that, they must not even suffer their agitation and +keen interest to be noticed; the very lawyers must be engaged with +caution or bound to secrecy. As long as their secret _could_ be kept, it +must. And Mr. Strafford could not remain at Cacouna. He had come +promptly to the help of the one unfortunate member of his flock, but the +little community on the island always felt his absence grievously, and +three or four days was the utmost he could spare at a time. Mrs. +Costello greatly desired to see her husband again, but to do so without +Mr. Strafford's presence was a trial from which she shrank, and which he +thought there was not sufficient reason for her to undergo. It was +decided therefore that he should make arrangements by which, and by the +kindness of the jailer, she should be kept constantly informed of his +condition of health, both mental and bodily. "If he should be either +worse in body or better in mind," she said, "I shall go to him at once; +and I have a strong presentiment that he will need me before long." + +A separate consultation from which Lucia was excluded, ended in a +decision to which she would certainly not have consented, however she +might, later, be obliged to yield to it. This was, that if Mrs. Costello +should feel herself called upon to avow her marriage for her husband's +sake, Lucia should first be sent to England and confided to the care of +her mother's cousin, George Wynter, so that she, at least, might be +spared the hard task of facing her small familiar world under a new and +degraded character. But of this plan Lucia suspected nothing. Her +thoughts travelled as often as ever they had done, to that misty _terra +incognita_ which Canadians still call "Home," for now Maurice was there, +and perhaps (but for that thought she reproved herself) Percy also; but +she had now wholly given up her dreams of visiting it, and most surely +would not have resumed them with the prospect of leaving her mother in +sorrow and alone. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +After a time of so much stress and excitement, there followed a pause--a +period of waiting, both for the mother and daughter at the Cottage, and +for the small world of Cacouna, which had been startled by the crime +committed in its very midst. As for the Costellos, when all the little +that they could do for the prisoner had been done, they had only to +occupy themselves with their old routine, or as much of it as was still +possible, and to try to bring their thoughts back to the familiar +details of daily life. Household affairs must be attended to; Mr. Leigh +must be visited, or coaxed out of his solitude to sit with them; other +visits must be paid and received, and reasons must be found to account +to their neighbours for the putting off of that journey which had +excited so much surprise in anticipation. And so, as days went on, habit +gradually came to their assistance, and by-and-by there were hours when +they asked themselves whether all the commotion and turmoil of the last +few weeks had been anything but a dream. + +Beyond the Cottage, too, life had returned to its usual even flow. One +household, it is true, was desolate; but that one had existed for so +short a time that the change in it had scarcely any effect on the +general current of daily affairs. Bella went away immediately after the +funeral. Mrs. Bellairs had begun to despair of rousing her from her +stupor of grief and horror, while she remained in the midst of all that +could remind her of her husband; and, therefore, carried her away almost +by force to the house of some relations near Toronto. When she came +back, it would be to return to her old place in her brother-in-law's +house, a pale, silent woman in widow's weeds, the very ghost of the gay +bride who had left it so lately. + +By Mrs. Morton's absence Lucia was relieved from her most painful task; +for, although she now no longer felt herself the daughter of the +murderer, there was so much disingenuousness in her position as the +most loved and trusted friend of the woman who still regarded her father +as the criminal, as to make it in the highest degree irksome to be with +her. She now tried to occupy herself as much as possible at home; and +while she did so, the calm to which she had forced herself outwardly +began to sink into her heart, and she found, almost with surprise, that +former habits of thought, and old likes and dislikes, had survived her +mental earthquake, and still kept their places when the dust had +settled, and the _debris_ were cleared away. One old habit in particular +would have returned as strongly as ever, if circumstances had +allowed--it was that of consulting and depending on Maurice in a +thousand little daily affairs. Since the first two days of his absence +there had been until now so constant a rush and strain of events and +emotions, that she had not had time to miss him much; on the contrary, +indeed, she had had passing sensations of gladness that he was not near +at certain crises to pierce with his clear eyes and ready intuition, +quite through the veil of composure which she could keep impervious +enough to others. But now that the composure began to be more than a +mere veil, and that her whole powers were no longer on the full stretch +to maintain it; now, too, when everything outwardly went on the same as +it had done three months ago, before Mr. Percy came to Cacouna, or the +story of Christian had been told; now, she wanted the last and strongest +of all old habits to be again practicable, and to see her old companion +again at hand. She remained, however, totally unsuspicious of all that +had passed between her mother and Maurice. She even fancied, sometimes, +that Mrs. Costello did Maurice the injustice of believing him changed by +the change of his circumstances, and that her affection for him had in +consequence cooled. + +"Of course," she said to herself, "if he were here now, and with us as +he used to be, we should always have the feeling that by-and-by, when +the truth comes to be known, or when we go away, we should have to part +with him. But, still, it would be nice to have him. And I do not believe +that, _at present_, he is changed towards us. Mr. Leigh thinks he wants +to come back to Canada." + +So she meditated more and more on the subject, because it was free from +all agitating remembrances, and because Mrs. Costello was silent +regarding it; and if poor Maurice, chafing with impatience and anxiety +while he watched his helpless half-unconscious grandfather, could have +had a peep into her mind, he would have consoled himself by seeing that +little as she thought of the _kind_ of affection he wanted from her, she +was giving him a more and more liberal measure of such as she had. + +A little while ago the same glimpse which would have consoled Maurice +might have comforted Mrs. Costello; but since she had begun to regard +Lucia as separated from him by duty and necessity, she rejoiced to think +that he had never held any other place in her child's heart than that to +which an old playfellow, teacher, and companion would under any +circumstances have a right. Her own altered conviction as to Christian's +guilt did not affect her feelings in this respect, for she knew that it +was too utterly illogical to have any weight with others; and +anticipating that even Maurice would be unable, were he told the whole +story, to share in it, she felt that as regarded him, guilt or unproved +innocence would be precisely the same thing; and that, however his +generosity might conceal the fact, Lucia would always remain in his +belief the daughter of a murderer. To suffer her child to marry him +under these circumstances was not to be thought of, even if Lucia +herself would consent; so, in spite of the half-frantic letters which +Maurice found time to despatch by every mail, and in which he used over +and over again every argument he could think of to convince her that +whatever her difficulties might be, she had no right to refuse what she +had once tacitly promised, she resolutely gave up, and put away from +her, the hopes she had long entertained, and the plans which had been +the comfort of her heart. + +It was settled, without anything definite being said on the subject, +that they were to remain at the Cottage until the Assizes, or just +before; so that Christian, in any need, might have help at hand. When +his trial was over, their future course would be decided,--or, rather, +Mrs. Costello's would, for it depended on the sentence. If that should +be "Not guilty," she would claim the unhappy prisoner at once, and take +him to some strange place where she could devote herself to caring for +him in that helplessness which renewed all his claims upon her. If it +were "Guilty," she would go immediately to the seat of Government and +never cease her efforts till she obtained his pardon. She felt no fear +whatever of succeeding in this--his wretchedness and imbecility would +be unanswerable arguments--no one would refuse to her the miserable +remnant of such a life. + +Lucia heard, and shared in arranging all these plans. She was still +ignorant that they were not intended to include herself, and Mrs. +Costello shrank from embittering the last months of their companionship +by the anticipations of parting. Thus they continued to live in the +tranquil semblance of their former happiness, while winter settled in +round them, and the time which must inevitably break up the calm drew +nearer and nearer. + +Mrs. Bellairs and her sister came back from their visit. Bella was still +silent and pale--still had the look of a person whom some sudden shock +has benumbed,--but she no longer shut herself up; and as much as their +deep mourning would allow, the household returned to their former +hospitable, cheerful ways. Mrs. Bellairs again came frequently to the +Cottage. She saw now, after her absence, a far greater change than she +had before realized, in both mother and daughter; and thinking that +variety and cheerful society were the best remedies, if not for both, +certainly for Lucia, she did all she could to drag the poor girl out, +and to force her into the company of those she most longed, but did not +dare, to avoid. There was one comfort; wherever Bella was, no allusion +to the murder could be made; but wherever she was not, Lucia constantly +heard such sayings as these:-- + +"Yes, it has been mentioned in the _Times_ even, such a peculiarly +horrid thing, you know, poor man." "Just like a savage. Oh! it's all +very well to talk of Indians being civilized, but I am quite convinced +they never are, really. And then, you see, the real nature breaks out +when they are provoked." + +Some more reasonable person would suggest, "But they say that at Moose +Island Mr. Strafford has done wonders;" and he answered, + +"Ah! 'they say.' It is so easy to _say_ anything. Why, this very man, or +brute, comes from Moose Island!" + +"Does he? But, of course, there must be some bad. Let us ask Miss +Costello. She knows Mr. Strafford." + +And Lucia would have to command her face and her voice, and say, "I only +know by report. I believe Mr. Strafford's people are all more or less +civilized." + +Sometimes she would hear this crime used as an argument in favour of +driving the Indians further back, and depriving them of their best +lands, for the benefit of that white race which had generously left them +here and there a mile or two of their native soil; sometimes as a proof +that to care for or instruct them, was waste of time and money; +sometimes only as a text whereon to hang a dozen silly speeches, which +stung none the less for their silliness; and it was but a poor +compensation for all she thus suffered when some one would speak out +heartily and with knowledge, in defence of her father's people. + +She said not a word to her mother of these small but bitter annoyances; +only found herself longing sometimes for the time when, at whatever +cost, her secret might be known, and she be free. In the meantime, +however, Mrs. Bellairs guessed nothing of the result of her kindness; +for Lucia, feeling how short a time might separate her for ever from +this dear friend, was more affectionate than usual in her manner, and +had sometimes a wistful look in her beautiful eyes, which might mean +sorrow, either past or future, but had no shadow of irritation. + +Mr. Strafford came up to Cacouna twice during Christian's imprisonment. +The first time he found no particular change. A low fever still seemed +to hang about the prisoner, and his passionate longing for the free air +to be his strongest feeling. There was no improvement mentally. His +brain, once cultivated and active, far beyond the standard of his race, +seemed quite dead; it was impossible to make him understand either the +past or future, his crime (if he were guilty), or his probable +punishment. In spite of the feeling against him, there were charitable +men in Cacouna who would gladly have done what they could to befriend +him, but literally nothing could be done. Mr. Strafford left him, +without anything new to tell the anxious women at the Cottage. + +But the second time there was an evident alteration in the physical +condition of the prisoner. He scarcely ever moved from his bed; and when +he was with difficulty persuaded to do so, he tottered like a very old +and feeble man. Even to breathe the air which he still perpetually asked +for, he would hardly walk to the window; and there were such signs of +exhaustion and utter weakness, that it seemed very doubtful whether, +before the time of the Assizes, he would not be beyond the reach of +human justice. Mr. Strafford went back to the Cottage with a new page in +her sorrowful life to tell to Mrs. Costello. To say that she heard with +great grief of the probable nearness of that widowhood which, for years +past, would have been a welcome release, would be to say an absurdity; +but, nevertheless, it is true that a deep and tender feeling of pity, +which was, indeed, akin to love, seemed to sweep over and obliterate all +the bitterness which belonged to her thoughts of her husband. She wished +at once to avow their relationship; and it was only Mr. Strafford's +decided opinion that to do so would be hurtful to Lucia and useless to +Christian, which withheld her. Clearly the one thing which he, unused to +any restraint, needed and longed for, was liberty; and even that, if it +were attainable, he seemed already too weak to enjoy. His ideas and +powers of recollection were growing still weaker with every week of +imprisonment, but nothing could be done--nothing but wait, with dreary +patience, for the time of the trial. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +The time of the Assizes drew near, and Mrs. Costello looked forward to +it with feelings of mixed, but almost wholly painful, anticipation. She +was now in daily expectation of receiving a letter from her cousin, +which should authorize her to send Lucia at once to England, and she had +not yet dared to speak on the subject. She thought, with reluctance, of +sending her child to the neighbourhood of Chester, where her own youth +and unfortunate marriage might still be remembered, or, if almost +forgotten, would be readily called to mind by the singular beauty of the +half-Indian girl; and she doubted how far the only other arrangement +which suggested itself to her, that of placing her daughter at school, +might be practicable. She had, also, to add to her other perplexities, a +lurking conviction that, whenever Lucia did become aware of the plans +that had been made for her, those plans stood no small chance of being +entirely swept away; or, if carried out at all, that they would be +finally shaped and modified according to Lucia's own judgment and +affection for herself, of which two qualities she had for a long time +been having daily stronger proofs. But in whatever way she regarded the +future, it was full of difficulties and darkness; and she had no longer +either strength or courage to face these hopefully. The fainting fits +which had twice alarmed Lucia, and which she spoke of as trifling and +temporary indispositions, she herself knew perfectly well to be only one +of the symptoms of a firmly-rooted and increasing disease. She had taken +pains to satisfy herself of the truth; she knew that she might live for +years; and that, under ordinary circumstances, there was very little +fear of the immediate approach of death; but she knew, also, that every +hour of agitation or excitement hastened its steps; and how could she +hope to avoid either? The very effort to decide whether she ought to +part with her child, or to suffer her to remain and face the impending +revelations, was in itself an excitement in which life wasted fast. + +But in this, as in so many human affairs, forethought was useless; and +the course of events, over which so many weary hours of calculation had +been spent, was already tending in a direction wholly unthought of and +unexpected. The first indication of this was the increasing illness of +Christian. + +When Mr. Strafford returned to Moose Island, after his second stay at +Cacouna, he had begged Elton, the kind-hearted jailer, to send word to +Mrs. Costello if any decided change took place in the prisoner before +his return; and as she was known to be his friend and correspondent, +this attracted no remark, and was readily promised. A little more than a +fortnight before the expected trial, Elton himself came one day to the +Cottage, and asked for Mrs. Costello. She received him with an alarm +difficult to conceal, and, guessing his errand, asked at once if he had +a worse account of his prisoner to send to Mr. Strafford? + +"Well, ma'am," he answered, "I don't know whether to call it a worse +account or not, considering all things; but he is certainly very ill, +poor creature." + +"What is it? Anything new, or only an increase of weakness?" + +"Just that, ma'am. Always a fever, and every day less strength to stand +against it. The doctor says he can't last long in the way he's going +on." + +"And can _nothing_ be done?" + +"Well, you see, he can't take food; and more air than he has we can't +give him. It is hard on those that have spent most of their lives out of +doors to be shut up anywhere, and naturally he feels stifled." + +"Do you say he takes no food?" + +"Next to none. It is not to say that he can't take the regular meals, +but we have tried everything we could think of, and it is all much the +same." + +"I should like to see him again. Can I do so?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am. There need be no difficulty about that; but he knows +nobody." + +Elton got up to leave. + +"I will write to Mr. Strafford," Mrs. Costello said, "and meantime I +will come myself to-morrow, if you can admit me then." + +"Certainly, ma'am, and I am much obliged to you." + +Mrs. Costello sank back into her chair when he was gone, and covered her +face with her hands. Disease and death then would not wait for that +trial, to which she had looked as the inevitable first step towards the +prisoner's release. He was about perhaps to be emancipated in a speedier +way than by man's justice. But if so, would not he be always supposed +guilty? Would not the blot upon her and her child be ineffaceable? +Whether or not, he must not die alone, untended by those who were +nearest to him, and dependent on the charity and kindness of strangers. +She called Lucia, and told her what she had just heard. + +"I shall write to Mr. Strafford," she said, "and if there seems no +special reason for doing otherwise, I will wait for his coming before I +make any change; but if he cannot come just now, or if I should find it +needful for--for your father's sake, Lucia, our secret must be told at +once." + +At that word "your father" a sudden flush had risen to the cheeks of +both mother and child. They had both been learning lately to _think_ of +the father and husband by his rightful titles, but this was perhaps the +first time he had been so spoken of; each felt it as the first step +towards his full recognition. + +Lucia was silent for a moment, and Mrs. Costello asked, "Do you think +that is being too hasty?" + +"Oh! _no_, mamma. I think it should be done at once. But you will let me +go with you?" + +"Not to-morrow, darling; perhaps afterwards." + +"Mamma, I ought to go." + +Mrs. Costello in her turn was silent, thinking whether this new +emergency ought not to hasten the execution of her plans for Lucia. +Finally, she decided that it ought; but it was with some trepidation +that she began the subject. + +"I see plainly enough," she said, with an effort to smile, "that I ought +to go, and that my strongest duty at present will be at the jail, but I +am not so sure about you." + +"But you do not suppose that I shall let you wear yourself out while I +stay at home doing nothing?" + +"I wish you to go away for a time." + +"Me! Away from you?" + +"Would it be so hard?" + +"Impossible. I would not leave you for anything." + +"Not even to obey me, Lucia?" + +"Mamma, _what_ do you mean?" + +"I wish you to go for a little while to England, where you have so often +wished to go." + +"And in the meantime what are you going to do?" + +"At present you see how I shall be occupied. When the trial is over, I +hope to bring your father here and nurse him as long as he requires +nursing." + +"And then?" + +"Then we will be together somewhere; I do not yet know where." + +"And where am I to go in England?" + +"My cousin will take care of you for me. Remember, it is only for a +little while." + +"Have you been plotting against me long, mother?" + +"My child, I have been obliged to think of your future." + +"And you thought that I was a baby still--only an encumbrance, to be +sent away from you when you had other troubles to think of?" + +"My best comforter, rather." + +"Well then, mother, I have my plan, which is better than yours, and more +practicable, too." + +"Mine is perfectly practicable; I have thought well of it." + +"It is impracticable; because I am not going to England, or indeed to +leave you at all." + +"But, Lucia, I have written to my cousin." + +"I am very sorry, mamma, but I cannot help it. Indeed, I do not want to +be disobedient, or to vex you, but you must see that if I _did_ go it +would only make us both wretched, and besides, it would not be _right_." + +Mrs. Costello sighed. + +"How not right?" + +"I think, mother, that when people know who we are--I mean when my +father comes here--there will be a great deal of speculation and gossip +about us all, and people will watch us very closely, and that it would +be better if when you bring him home, everything should be as if he had +never been away from us. Do you know what I mean?" + +"I suppose I do," Mrs. Costello answered slowly. "You mean that when we +take him back, we should not seem to be ashamed of him?" + +Lucia hid her face against her mother's dress. + +"Oh! mamma, is it wrong to talk so? He is my father after all, and it +seems so dreadful; but indeed I shall try to behave like a daughter to +him." + +Yet even as she spoke, an irrepressible shudder crept over her with the +sudden recollection of the only time she had seen the prodigal. + +"My poor child!" and her mother's arm was passed tenderly round her, "it +is just that I wish to spare you." + +Lucia looked up steadily. + +"But ought I to be spared, mother? It seems to me that my duty is just +as plain as yours. Do not ask me to go away." + +"I am half distracted, darling, between trying to think for you and for +him. And perhaps all my thought for him may be useless." + +"At least, think only of him for the present." + +"If he should die before the trial?" + +"If he could only be cleared! Perhaps it would save him yet." + +"Yes. It seems to be imprisonment which is killing him; but nothing less +than a miracle could make any change now, and there are no miracles in +our days." + +"Ah! mamma, has not a miracle been worked already?" + +"How?" + +"Only a little while ago remember how we thought and spoke of him--and +now--" + +"You are right, my child; but the agencies which have worked this +miracle are very earthly ones--pain and sorrow, and false accusation." + +"Mamma, I think this is better than the old life of terror, and perhaps +hatred." + +"Far better, far better. Yes, through dark and painful means a better +end is coming. But it is hard to think that you must live through all +your life under the shadow of a supposed crime. For us who have sinned +life is nearly over, our punishment was just, and it will soon be ended. +It is you, my child, whom I have so tried to shield, who must bear the +heaviest penalty." + +"No, mother, do not think so. When all this is over we shall go away, +you and I, and be very happy together again; and the happiness will be +more equally balanced than it was in the old days when you had so much +care and I none. And then, if ever I am left alone, I shall go and be a +Sister of Charity or one of Miss Nightingale's nurses, and be too busy +and useful to be unhappy." + +Mrs. Costello stooped down and kissed her child's forehead. + +"I thought you might have had a brighter fate than that, darling. +Perhaps I thought more of seeing you a happy woman than a good one; but +if you are never to have the home I wished for you, you will find, at +any rate, that a single woman's life may be full of usefulness and +honour." + +Ah! that brighter fate! Mrs. Costello thought of Maurice, and sighed for +the loss to _two_ lives. Lucia's heart still turned loyally to the one +lover who had claimed it, but both knew that the "brighter fate" was no +longer a possibility now. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +Lucia walked with her mother to the gates of the jail, but she could not +obtain permission to go any further. Although the proposal to send her +to England was, in fact, abandoned, there seemed no reason why she +should be brought sooner than was needful into contact with what could +not but be painful; and she was obliged to yield in this matter to her +mother's judgment. + +They parted, therefore, at the gates; and Mrs. Costello was admitted +without delay to the cell where Christian was confined. A cell, properly +speaking, it was not; for they had removed him since her former visit, +and he now occupied a good-sized room on the upper floor, which was +nearly as bare and as glaringly white as the other, but more airy. His +low wooden bedstead was drawn near to the window, which, cold as it was, +stood open, while a small box-stove, heated almost red hot, kept the +temperature of the room tolerably high. On the bed, partly dressed, and +wrapped in a blanket, lay the prisoner. He neither moved nor paid any +attention when his visitor came in, and she had time to see all the +change confinement and illness had made in him. And the change was, +indeed, startling. All the flush of intemperance had left his face, and +at this moment his fever had subsided also, and left him only the +natural dark but clear tint of his Indian blood; his hair had been +smoothly combed, and looked less grey than when it hung tangled and +knotted; his extreme weakness gave him an aspect of repose, which +brought back the ghost of his old self--something of the look of that +Christian who had been, to a girl's fancy, so fit a hero of romance. + +It was but a likeness, truly, shadowy and dim, but it seemed to bridge +over the interval--the long, long weary years since the hero changed +into the tyrant, and to make far easier that task of comforting and +helping which duty, and not love, had imposed. + +She came to his side, and still he did not notice her. His eyes were +fixed on the pale, grey, snowy sky, and he seemed deaf to the slight +sounds of her movements. She sat down and watched him silently. From the +first moment she knew that all, and more than all, Elton had said was +true. She saw death unmistakable, inevitable, and close at hand, and +reproached herself for not having come sooner. But in that strange calm +and stillness, even self-reproach seemed to be curbed and +repressed--even a quickened beating of the heart would have been out of +place. So they remained until fully half an hour had passed, when the +door of the room again opened; this time to admit the doctor. + +He was an elderly man, kind, busy, and quick in his words and motions. +He came in briskly, and looked rather surprised at seeing Mrs. Costello. +She only bowed, however, and drew back as he came towards the bedside. +He was followed into the room by the jailer's wife, who had +compassionately tended the prisoner ever since his illness increased. + +Christian seemed to wake from his stupor, or dream, at the sound of the +doctor's voice. He answered the questions put to him mechanically but +clearly, and with his old purity of accent and expression. The dialogue, +however, even with Mrs. Elton's comments, was but a short one, and as +soon as it was ended, Mrs. Costello came forward and stopped the doctor +on his way from the room. + +"Will you tell me," she said in a low voice, "exactly what you think of +him?" + +He looked at her again with some surprise. + +"I am interested in the question," she went on, regulating her voice +with a painful effort. "I assure you it is not from mere curiosity I +ask." + +"He is very low, very low indeed; but allow me to say, this is not the +place for you." + +"I will not do myself any harm," she answered, with a faint smile; "you +shall not have any occasion to scold me." + +"How long have you been here?" + +"About half an hour. And you may feel my pulse if you like; it is +perfectly steady." + +She held out her wrist; the pulse was, in fact, quite regular, rather +more so than usual, and there was nothing to show that the sick room was +"not the place for her." + +"Now tell me," she said; "he is dying, is not he?" + +"Yes. Best thing that can happen to him, poor wretch." + +"You don't think he will live to be tried?" + +He shook his head. + +"More than doubtful." + +"But it is only a fortnight, and there seems to be no acute disease." + +"He would have a better chance of living if there were. He is completely +worn out--dying of exhaustion. It is a question if he lasts another +week." + +"Tell me, please, exactly what can be done for him." + +"Very little indeed. And Mrs. Elton is a good nurse." + +The same look of inquiry as before was in the doctor's face while he +gave this answer, and Mrs. Costello felt that some explanation was +necessary. + +"I have no doubt she is. But I knew him--knew something of him--many +years ago," she said; "and Mr. Strafford, the clergyman at Moose Island, +you know, confided him to my care." + +She spoke hurriedly, but without faltering, and the doctor was +satisfied. He told her briefly all that could be done for his patient, +and then went away, with a last warning not to stay too long. + +This short conversation had been carried on rapidly and in very low +tones. Mrs. Elton had left the room, and Christian seemed quite +unconscious of the presence of the speakers. When the doctor was gone, +his wife again came to his bedside, and seeing that he had not yet sunk +back quite into his former lethargic state, she laid her hand gently on +his without speaking. + +He did not move, but merely raised his languid eyes to her face. +Something there, however, seemed to fix them, and he lay looking at her +with a steady intent gaze, as if trying to recognise her. + +"Christian," she said very softly, with a trembling voice, "do you +remember me?" + +"I remember," he answered in a half whisper, "not you, but something +like you." + +"I am changed since then," she went on; "we are both changed, but we +shall be together again now." + +He was still watching her, and there seemed to be a clearer +consciousness in his gaze. + +"Are you Mary?" he asked after a moment. + +"I am Mary, your wife," she answered. + +"There was something else," he went on, slowly groping as it were for +broken memories of the past. "There was another." + +"Our child?" she asked, "Do you remember her?" + +"Yes; is she here?" + +"No. Would you like to see her?" + +"No matter. I lost you. Where have you been?" + +"Near here. Forget that; now I shall not leave you again for long." + +"I am tired; I think I shall sleep." + +And the light began to fade out of his eyes, and the same kind of dull +insensibility, not sleep, crept over him again. + +She left him at last in much the same state as she found him; and after +a long talk with Mrs. Elton, who was at first a little inclined to be +jealous of interference, but came round completely after a while, she +left the jail and started for home. + +It was a dreary walk, through the snowy roads and under the +leaden-coloured sky. She had to pass through a part of the town which +lay close to the river, where the principal shops and warehouses stood. +Passing one of the shops, or as they were generally called, "stores," +she remembered some purchases she wanted to make, and went in. While she +was occupied with her business, some loud voices at the further end of +the store attracted her attention, and she was aware of a group of men +sitting upon barrels and boxes, and keeping up a noisy conversation, +mixed with frequent bursts of laughter. + +The store was not one of the best class even for Cacouna, but Mrs. +Costello had gone into it because it had a kind of "specialite," for the +articles she required. It was most frequented by rough backwoodsmen and +farmers, and to that class the noisy party seemed to belong. Some little +time was necessary to find from a back shop one of the things Mrs. +Costello asked for, and while she waited she could not help but hear +what these men were saying. A good many oaths garnished their speeches, +which, deprived of them, were much as follows: + +"You did not go into mourning, anyhow?" + +"Not I. Saved me a deal of trouble, _he_ did." + +"You'll be turned out all the same, yet, I guess." + +"They have not turned me out yet. And if Bellairs tries that trick +again, I'll send my old woman and the baby to Mrs. Morton. That'll fix +it." + +There was a roar of laughter. Then, + +"They are sure to hang him, I suppose?" + +"First hanging ever's been at Cacouna if they do." + +"I guess you'll be going to see him hung, eh, Clarkson?" + +"I reckon so; but it's time I was off." + +One of the speakers, a thickset, heavy-browed man, came down the store, +stared rudely at Mrs. Costello as he passed, and going out, got into a +waggon that stood outside, and drove away. + +At the same moment the shopman came back and wondered at his customer's +trembling hand as he showed her what he had brought. She scarcely +understood what he said. She had turned cold as ice, and was saying over +and over to herself, "The murderer, the murderer." She hurried to finish +her business and get out into the open air, for in the store she felt +stifled. She had never before seen, to her knowledge, this Clarkson, +whom she accused in her heart; and now his evil countenance, his harsh +voice and brutal laugh had thrown her into a sudden terror and tumult. +As she walked quickly along, she remembered a story she had heard of +him, when and how she scarcely knew, but the story itself came back to +her mind with singular distinctness. + +A poor boy, an orphan, had been engaged by Clarkson as a servant. Much +of the hard rough work about the kind of bush farm established by the +squatter, fell to his share; he was not ill fed, for Mrs. Clarkson saw +to that, but his promised wages never were paid. The lad complained to +his few acquaintance that nearly the whole sum due to him for two years' +service was still in his master's hands, and though he dared not let +Clarkson know that he had complained, he took courage, by their advice, +to threaten him with the law. One day soon after this, Clarkson and his +servant were both engaged loading a kind of raft, or flat boat, with +various produce for market. A dispute arose between them, the boy fell +or was pushed overboard, and though the creek was quite shallow, and he +was known to be able to swim, he was never seen from that time. + +This was the story which had been whispered about until Mrs. Costello +heard it, and which now returned to her mind with horrible force. A +murderer, a double, a treble murderer--(for was not Christian dying from +the consequences of _his_ guilt?); she felt at that moment no +resignation, but a fierce desire to push aside all the cruel, complete, +_false_ evidence, and force justice to recognize the true criminal. + +"Coward that I am!" she cried in her heart. "But I will at least do what +I can. To-morrow I will let the truth about myself be known, and try +whether that cannot be made to help me to the other truth. To-morrow, +to-morrow!" + +She reached home exhausted, yet sustained by a new energy, and told +Lucia her story and her determination. To her, young and impatient of +the constant repression and concealment, this resolve was a welcome +relief; and they talked of it, and of the future together until they +half persuaded themselves that to restore to Christian his wife and +daughter would be but the beginning of a change which should restore him +both life and liberty. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The arrival of letters at the Cottage was somewhat irregular and +uncertain. Mails from England and the States reached Cacouna in the +evening, and if a messenger was sent to the post-office the letters +could be had about an hour afterwards. Since Maurice had been in +England, the English mails were eagerly looked for, and Mr. Leigh never +failed to send at the very first moment when it was possible there might +be news of him. Lately Maurice's correspondence had been nearly equally +divided between his father and Mrs. Costello; and Mr. Leigh had wondered +not a little at the fretted impatient humour which showed itself plainly +at times in his share of the letters written in that silent and shadowy +sickroom at Hunsdon. But Maurice said nothing to him of the real cause +of his discontent--very little of his plan of returning to Cacouna; and +it was Mrs. Costello who received the notes which acted as safety valves +to his almost irrepressible disturbance of mind. He continued to send +her, once a week, a sheet full of persuasions and arguments which the +moment they were written seemed unanswerable, and the moment they were +despatched appeared puerile and worthless. Still they came, with no +other effect than that of making the recipient more and more unhappy, as +she perceived how her own mistake had helped to increase Maurice's +hopes, and to darken his life by their destruction. + +One of these letters arrived on the very evening of Mrs. Costello's +visit to the jail. It was shorter and more hurried than usual, and spoke +of Mr. Beresford being worse--so much worse that his granddaughter had +been sent for hastily, and, as every one supposed, for the last time; +but it was just as peremptory as any former one, in declaring that +nothing could or should prevent the writer from seeking for, and finding +Lucia wherever she might be, the moment he was free to leave England. + +Mrs. Costello read this note with some uneasiness. She saw that on the +question which of two declining lives should waste fastest, much of the +future now depended. If death came first to the rich and well-born +Englishman, in his stately house, Maurice would be set at liberty, and +by his presence at Cacouna would add to her difficulties; if, to the +miserable prisoner who had been for so many years her terror and +disgrace, and was now thrown upon her care and pity, she should yet be +able to fly with Lucia and hide herself, not now indeed from an enemy, +but from too faithful a friend. + +In the meantime, however, since she had decided to make her marriage +known to all the little world of Cacouna, she began to feel that the +Leighs, both father and son, had a right to have the truth simply and +immediately from herself. She said nothing to Lucia that evening on this +subject, but after going to her room for the night, she sat down and +wrote a very brief but clear explanation of her secret, for Maurice; +adding only a few words of affectionate farewell, and an intimation that +it was better for all direct communication between them to cease with +this letter. + +Next morning at breakfast she told Lucia what she had done, saying +simply that she preferred writing to Maurice, to leaving him to find out +the truth by more indirect means; and added that she intended going at +once to Mr. Leigh's and making him her first confidant in Cacouna. Lucia +could only assent. _Somebody_ must be the first to hear the story, and +who so fit as their old and dear friend? + +"If Maurice were but here!" she said, with a sigh, "he would be such a +comfort, I know, for nothing would make any change in him." + +Mrs. Costello echoed the sigh, but not the wish. + +"If he will but stay away!" she thought, and said nothing. + +She put on her bonnet as soon as breakfast was over, and walked slowly +up the lane to the farmhouse. Lucia watched her anxiously, and many +times during the next two hours went to the windows to see if she were +returning, but it was after twelve before she came, and then she looked +pale and exhausted from the morning's excitement. + +She lay down, however, at Lucia's entreaty, and by-and-by began to tell +her what had passed. + +In the first place Mr. Leigh had been utterly astonished. Through all +the years of their acquaintance the secret had been so well kept that +he had never had the smallest suspicion of it. Like all the rest of her +neighbours he had supposed Mrs. Costello a widow, whose married life had +been too unhappy for her to care to speak of it. The idea that this dead +husband was a Spaniard had arisen in the first place from Lucia's dark +complexion and black hair and eyes, as well as from the name her mother +had assumed; it had been, in fact, simply a fancy of the Cacouna people, +and no part of Mrs. Costello's original plan of concealment. It had +come, however, to be as firmly believed as if it had been ever so +strongly asserted, and had no doubt helped to save much questioning and +many remarks. + +All these ideas, firmly rooted in Mr. Leigh's mind, had taken some +little time to weed out; but when he heard and understood the truth, it +never occurred to him to question for a moment the wisdom or propriety +of her flight from her husband or of the means she had taken to remain +safe from him. He thought the part of a friend was to sympathize and +help, not to criticize, and after a few minutes' consideration as to how +help could best be offered, he asked whether she intended that very day +to claim her rightful post as Christian's nurse. + +"I did intend to do so," she answered, "but for two or three reasons I +think I had perhaps better wait until to-morrow. Mr. Strafford may +possibly be here then." + +"You will be glad to have him with you," Mr. Leigh answered, "but it +seems to me that an old neighbour who has seen you every day for years, +might not be out of place there too. Will you let me go with you to the +jail?" + +"Dear Mr. Leigh! you cannot. You have not been out of the house for +weeks." + +"All laziness. Though indeed I could not pretend to walk so far. But we +can have Lane's covered sleigh, and go without any trouble." + +Mrs. Costello still protested; but in her heart she was perfectly well +aware that Mr. Leigh's presence would be a support to her in the first +painful moments when she must acknowledge herself the wife of a supposed +murderer--and more than that, of an Indian, who had become in the +imagination of Cacouna, the type and ideal of a savage criminal. So, +finally, it was arranged that she should be accompanied to the prison on +the following day by her two faithful friends (supposing Mr. Strafford +to have then arrived), and that in the meantime she should merely pay +her husband a visit without betraying any deeper interest in him than +she had shown already. + +Mr. Leigh asked whether he should tell Maurice what he had himself just +heard, and in reply Mrs. Costello gave him the note she had written, and +asked him to enclose it for her. + +"I thought it was better and kinder to write to him myself," she said. +"It will be a shock to Maurice to know the real position of his old +playfellow." + +Mr. Leigh looked at her doubtfully. + +"It will be a surprise, no doubt," he said, "as it was to me, and he +will be heartily sorry not to be here now to show you both how little +change such a discovery makes. But do you know, Mrs. Costello, it has +struck me lately that there was something wrong either with you and +Maurice, or with Lucia and Maurice?" + +"There is nothing wrong with either, I assure you. You know yourself," +she answered with a smile, "that Maurice never forgets to send us a note +by every mail." + +"That is true; but it does not altogether convince me; Maurice is +worried and unhappy about something, and yet I cannot make out that +there is anything in England to trouble him." + +"On the contrary," Mrs. Costello said, as she rose, "except for Mr. +Beresford's illness I think he has everything he can reasonably wish +for--and more." + +She held out her hand to say good-bye, feeling a strong desire to get +away, and escape from a conversation which was becoming embarrassing. +Mr. Leigh took it and for one second held it, as if he wished to say +something more, but the feeling that he had really no ground but his own +surmises for judging of Maurice's relations with either Lucia or her +mother, checked him. + +Mrs. Costello hurried home. She knew as well as if he had said so, that +her old friend guessed his son's attachment and was ready to sanction +it; she could easily understand the generous impulse which would have +urged him to offer to her and her child all the support and comfort +which an engagement between the two young people could be made to +afford; but she would not even trust herself to consider for a moment +the possibility of accepting a consolation which would cost the giver so +dear. Maurice, she felt, ought to marry an English-woman, his mother's +equal; and no doubt if he and Lucia could be kept completely apart for +two or three years, he would do so without reluctance; only nothing must +be said about the matter either by Mr. Leigh or to Lucia. As for her +daughter, the very circumstance which had formerly seemed most +unfavourable to her wishes was now her great comfort; she rejoiced in +the certainty that Lucia had never suspected the true nature or degree +of Maurice's regard. It was in this respect not to be much regretted +that Lucia still thought faithfully of Percy--not at all as of one who +might yet have any renewed connection with her life, but as of one dead. +The poor child, in spite of her premature womanliness, was full of +romantic fancies; while Percy was near her she had made him a hero; now +since his disappearance, she had found it natural enough to build him a +temple and put in it the statue of a god. And it was better that she +should mourn over a dead love, than that she should a second time be +tormented by useless hopes and fears. + +That afternoon Mrs. Costello and Lucia went together into Cacouna, +taking with them some small comforts for the invalid, but Lucia was not +yet permitted to see him. She parted from her mother at the prison +door, and went to pay a visit to Mrs. Bellairs and Bella, the last time +she was ever likely to see them on the old frank and intimate footing. +Even now, indeed, the intimacy had lost much of its charm. She loved +them both more than ever, but the miserable consciousness of imposture +weighed heavily upon her, and seemed to herself to colour every word she +uttered. She did not stay long; and making a circuit in order to pass +the jail again, in hopes of meeting her mother, she walked sadly and +thoughtfully through the winter twilight towards home. In passing +through the town she noticed an unusual stir of people; groups of men +stood in the streets or round the shop doors talking together, but it +was a time of some political excitement, and the inhabitants of Cacouna +were keen politicians, so that there might be no particular cause for +that. + +Mr. Strafford was more than half expected at the Cottage that evening. +The boat might be in by five, and it was nearly that time when Lucia +reached home, so she took off her walking-things, and applied herself at +once to making the house look bright and comfortable to welcome him, +all the while listening with some anxiety for the sound of her mother's +return. But Mrs. Costello did not come, and Lucia began to think that +she must have gone to the wharf to meet Mr. Strafford, and that they +would arrive together. She made Margery bring in the tea-things, and had +spent no small trouble in coaxing the fire into its very brightest and +warmest humour, the chairs into the cosiest places, and the curtains to +hang so that there should not be the slightest suspicion of a draught, +when at last the welcome sound of the gate opening was heard, and she +ran to the door; there indeed stood Mr. Strafford, but alone. + +Lucia forgot her welcome, and greeted him with an exclamation of +surprise and disappointment; then suddenly recollecting herself, she +took him into the bright sitting-room and explained why she was +astonished to see him alone. + +"I came straight from the wharf," he said, "and have seen nothing of +Mrs. Costello, but I will walk back along the road and meet her." + +This, however, Lucia would not hear of. + +"Margery shall go a little way," she said; "mamma cannot be long now." + +So Margery went, while Mr. Strafford questioned Lucia as to all she +knew of Christian's condition. She told him, with little pauses of +listening between her sentences, for she was growing every moment more +uncontrollably anxious. At length both started up, for the tinkle of +sleigh bells was heard coming up the lane. Again Lucia flew to the door, +and opened it just as the sleigh stopped. + +"Mamma!" she cried, "are you there?" and to her inexpressible relief she +was answered by Mrs. Costello's voice. + +"But why are you so late?" was the next question. + +"I will tell you all presently. Pay the man, dear, and let him go. Or +stay, tell him to come for me at ten o'clock to-morrow morning." + +Mrs. Costello was sitting by the fire when Lucia came back from her +errand. She looked excessively pale and tired, but in her face and in +that of Mr. Strafford as he stood opposite to her there was a light and +flicker of strong excitement. Both turned to Lucia, and Mrs. Costello +held out her hand. + +Lucia came forward, and seeing something she could not understand, knelt +down by her mother's knee and said, "What is it?" + +"Good news, darling, good news at last!" Mrs. Costello tried to speak +calmly, but her voice shook with this unaccustomed agitation of joy. "He +is innocent!" she cried, and covered her face with her hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +It was long before the one single fact of Christian's innocence--proved, +unquestionable innocence--had become sufficiently real and familiar for +the mother and daughter to hear or to tell how the truth had come to +light, and the justice of Heaven been swifter and surer than that of +man. But at length all that Mrs. Costello knew was told; and in the deep +joy and thankfulness with which they saw that horrible stain of murder +wiped out, they were ready to forget even more completely than before, +all the disgrace which still clung to the miserable prisoner, and to +welcome him on his release with no forced kindness. + +"On his release? Ought he not to be with them now?" + +Lucia asked the question. + +"He does not yet even know all," Mrs. Costello answered. "He is so +excessively weak that they dared not tell him till to-morrow." + +"To-morrow, then, he will be here?" + +"No, that is impossible. There is much to be done first; but very soon I +hope." + +Yet both doubted in their hearts whether the shadow--ever deepening--of +approaching death could yet be so checked as to suffer the prisoner to +breathe the free air for which he pined. + +Meanwhile, the story was being told by every fireside in Cacouna with +more of wonder and of comment than by that one where it had the deepest +interest. And it was a tale that would be remembered and repeated for +years, though no living man could tell it all. + +That morning Clarkson had been for some hours at Cacouna. He had various +places to go to, and both sales and purchases to make, but he found +time, as usual, to visit more than one place where whisky was sold; and +when at last he drove out of the town, he had but just enough power of +self-control to keep himself from swaying about visibly as he sat in his +sleigh. He was in boisterous spirits, and greeted every acquaintance he +met with some rough jest--pointless but noisy--singing snatches of +songs, and flourishing his whip with an air of tipsy bravado. At a small +tavern near the sawmill he dismounted for the last time. + +It was a little after noon, and several of the men employed about the +mill were lounging round the stove in the tavern when Clarkson went in. +He found some of his own particular associates among the group, and, +being in a generous humour, he pulled out a dirty dollar-note and +ordered glasses round. These were followed by others; and when, after +another half-hour, he got into his sleigh again, he was quite beyond the +power of guiding his horse, or even of seeing where he was going. He was +more noisy than ever; and as he started off, some of his more sober +companions shouted warnings after him, and stood watching him as he +went, with a pretty strong feeling that he was not likely to reach home +safely. + +In fact, he had proceeded but a little way across the open plain where +Dr. Morton's body had been found when he took a wrong direction, and, +instead of keeping a tolerably straight line towards his own home, he +turned to the left, following a track which led to the water's edge, +and ran beside it, over broken and boggy ground, until after making a +semicircle it rejoined the principal road on the further side of the +plain. No sober man would have chosen this track, for it was heavy for +the horse, and was carried over several rough bridges across the large +drains which had lately been cut to carry off the water from the swamp. +The deep snow which had fallen, with little previous frost, lay soft and +thick over the whole ground; it covered the holes in the bridges, and so +choked up the drains that in many places they were completely concealed, +and what appeared to be a smooth level surface of ground might really be +a dangerous pitfall. Here, however, Clarkson chose to go. He flogged his +horse unmercifully, and the sleigh flew over the ground, scattering the +snow and striking every moment against some roughness of the road which +it concealed. They passed one of the drains safely, though the round +logs of which the bridge was formed shook and rattled under them; but +between that and the next, the tipsy driver turned quite out of the +track, and drove on at the same headlong pace towards the open trench. +At the very brink the horse stopped; he tried to turn aside, but a +tremendous lash of the whip urged him on; he leaped forward and just +cleared the drain, but the weight of the sleigh dragged him backwards, +and the whole mass crashed through the snow and the thin ice under it +into the bottom of the cutting. + +Some of the men who had watched Clarkson drive off from the tavern had +not yet returned to their work, and the place where the accident +happened was not so far off but that something of it could be seen. Two +or three started off, and soon arrived at the spot where the sleigh had +disappeared. + +The drain, though deep, was not very wide, and if, even at the very +moment of the fall, Clarkson had been capable of exerting himself, he +might have escaped; as it was, he lay among the broken fragments of his +sleigh and shouted out imprecations upon his horse, which had been +dragged down on the top of him. But when the poor animal was freed from +the harness, and with as much care as possible removed from the body of +its master, a much harder task remained. Clarkson was frightfully +hurt--how, they could hardly tell, but it seemed as if his head and arms +were all that had escaped. The rest of his body appeared to be dead; he +had not the smallest power to move, and yet there was no outward wound, +and his voice was as strong as ever. They raised him with the greatest +gentleness and care, and bringing up the bottom of the broken sleigh, +laid his helpless limbs on it compassionately, and carried him back to +the tavern, paying no heed to the flood of curses which he constantly +poured out. + +When they reached the tavern, they found the doctor already there, and, +going out of the house, they waited till he should have made his +examination and be able to tell them its result. After some time he +came, closing the door behind him and looking very grave. + +"What's wrong with him, sir?" one of the men asked. + +"Everything. He cannot live many hours." + +There was a minute's silence, and then somebody said, + +"Should not his missus be fetched?" + +"Yes, poor woman, the sooner the better. Who will go?" + +"I will, sir," and one of the oldest of the group started off +immediately to the mill to get the necessary permission from his master. + +"Now," said the doctor, "there's another thing. Who will take my horse +and go into Cacouna and fetch Mr. Bayne out here? I do not mean to leave +Clarkson myself at present." + +Another volunteer was found, and the doctor, having scribbled a pencil +note to Mr. Bayne, sent him off with it and went back into the house. +There was already a change in his patient. An indefinable look had come +over the hard, sunburnt face, and the voice was weaker. Why the doctor +had sent for Mr. Bayne, whom for the moment he regarded not as a +clergyman, but as a magistrate, he himself best knew. Clarkson had no +idea of his having done so; nor had he yet heard plainly that his own +fate was so certain or so near. But it was no part of the doctor's plan +to leave him in ignorance. He went to the side of the settee where the +dying man lay, and sitting down said, + +"I have sent for your wife." + +Clarkson looked at him suspiciously. + +"What's that for?" he asked. "Can't they take me home? I should get well +a deal sooner there than in this place." + +"You cannot be moved. In fact, Clarkson, there is no chance of your +getting well anywhere." + +Clarkson turned his head sharply. + +"Say out what you mean," he cried with an oath. + +"I intend to do so. You are not likely to live till night." + +The wretched man tried to raise himself, but his will had no power over +his body. He turned his head round with a groan, and hid his face +against the wall. + +There were other people in the house; but since Clarkson had been +brought in, they kept as much as possible at the further end, and could +not hear what passed unless it was intended that they should. Presently +Clarkson again looked round, and there was a new expression of terror +and anxiety in his eyes. + +"Are you _sure_?" he asked. "Quite certain I can't get well?" + +"Quite certain. There is not the shadow of a chance." + +"Look here, then; I have something to say." + +"It had better be said soon." + +"I say, Doctor, is that Indian fellow really going to die?" + +"What Indian fellow?" + +"The one in jail--the one that they say killed Doctor Morton." + +"He is very ill. Why do you say that they _say_ he killed Doctor +Morton?" + +"Because he did not do it, and I know who did." + +"Is that what you have to tell?" + +"I'd have let him hang, mind; I'd never have told a word. But it's to be +me after all!" He stopped and groaned again heavily. + +"Look here, Doctor," he went on, "you'll just remember this, will you? +My missus knows nothing about it--not a word; and don't let them go and +bother her about it afterwards. Will you promise?" + +"The best way to keep her from being troubled is to tell the truth +yourself." + +"Well, I'll do it then, for her. She's a good one." + +He was silent again for a minute, resolute not to let even the thoughts +of his good wife, who loved him through all his faults, change his hard +manner to any unusual softness. + +In the pause the sound of sleigh bells outside was heard, and through +the window the doctor caught sight of his own little sleigh, with Mr. +Bayne in it, coming up to the door of the house. + +"Now, Clarkson," he said, "you see that the best thing for everybody +is, that you should tell the exact truth about that murder. I am not +going to talk to you about the benefit it may be to yourself to make +what amends you can for the wrong you have done, but I can tell you that +Christian has friends who would be glad to see him cleared; and if you +will tell all the truth now, late as it is, I think I may promise that +they will look after your wife and children." + +The doctor spoke fast, having made up his mind to deliver this little +speech before they were interrupted. Then he went to the door and opened +it, just in time to admit Mr. Bayne. + +When they came together to Clarkson's side, he was lying quite quiet, +considering. His paralysed condition and fast increasing weakness seemed +to keep down all excitement. He was perfectly conscious, but it was a +sort of mechanical consciousness with which emotion of any kind had very +little to do. Mr. Bayne, who did not yet know why he had been sent for, +but thought only of the dying man's claim upon him as a clergyman, spoke +a few friendly words and sat down near the settee. + +Clarkson motioned the doctor also to sit down. + +"Must I tell _him_?" he said in a low voice. + +"You had better. He is a magistrate, you know." + +"Yes; all right. Tell him what it is about; will you?" + +"Clarkson wants to tell you the exact truth about the murder which took +place here in autumn," the Doctor said. "There is not much time to +lose." + +"That's it." And Clarkson began at once. "To begin with, it was not the +Indian at all. He never saw Doctor Morton that I know of, and I am +certain he never saw him alive that day. He happened to be lying asleep +under the bushes, that's all he had to do with it." + +"But who did it then?" Mr. Bayne asked. + +"Who should do it? He wanted to turn me out of my farm that I had +cleared myself; one day he pretty nearly knocked me down, and every day +he abused me as if I was a dog. _I_ killed him." + +He stopped. All the exultation of his triumph was not quite conquered +yet. He had killed his enemy. + +"That day," he went on, "I was going down to the mill; I had a big stick +in my hand that I had but just cut, and I thought what a good one it +would be to knock a man down with. I was going along, in and out among +the bushes, when I caught sight of him coming riding slowly in front. I +knew he was most likely going to the creek, for it seemed as if he could +not keep from meddling with me continually, and I did not want to talk +to him, so I slipped into a big bush to wait till he was gone by. I +declare I had no thought of harming him, but he always put me in a rage, +so I did not mean to speak to him at all. Well, he came close up, and +all of a sudden I thought I should like to pay him out for hitting me +with his whip, and I just lifted up my stick and knocked him over. It +was a sharper blow than I meant it to be, for the blood ran down as he +fell. He lay on the grass, and I was going to walk back home when I saw +that my stick was all over blood, and there was some on my hands too. +That made me mad with him, because I thought I might be found out by it. +I went a little way further to hide the stick, and I saw a man lying +down. Then I thought _he_ might have seen me and I should have to quiet +him too, but he was fast asleep, and did not move a finger; that made me +think of putting it on him. He had a big knife stuck in his belt, but it +had half fallen out, and I took it that I might put some of the blood on +it. When I came back with it to the place, I found that Doctor Morton +had moved. I had not meant at first to kill him, but when I saw that he +was alive I was vexed, and thought if I left him so he would be sure to +know who had hit him, so I finished him. I wanted to make people believe +that it was the Indian who had done it, and they did. That is all I've +got to tell." + +Nearly the whole story had been told in a sullen, monotonous tone, and +when it was finished Clarkson shut his eyes and turned a little away +from his auditors, as if to show that he did not mean to be questioned. +They did indeed try to say something to him of his crime, but he would +not answer, and presently the doctor, after leaning over him for a +moment, motioned Mr. Bayne to be silent. Death was quickly approaching, +and it was useless to trouble the dying man further. After a little +while the man who had gone for Mrs. Clarkson arrived, with the poor +woman half stunned by the shock of his news, and the two gentlemen left +husband and wife together. + +Later Mr. Bayne came back to his post in the more natural and congenial +character of a Christian priest; but Clarkson was not a man to whom a +deathbed repentance could be possible. The one human sentiment of his +nature--a half-instinctive love of wife and children--was the only one +that seemed to influence him at the last, and from the moment of his +confession he spoke little except of them. Gradually his consciousness +began to fail, and he spoke no more. Two hours later the doctor and Mr. +Bayne quitted the house together. All was over. Clarkson's turbulent +life had ended quietly, and all that was left of him was the body, over +which a faithful woman wept. + +When Mr. Bayne returned to Cacouna he went straight to Mr. Bellairs and +told him the truth; not many minutes after, Mr. Bellairs hurried to the +jail. He felt anxious that he himself, the nearest connection of Dr. +Morton, should be the first to make what reparation was possible to the +innocent man who had already suffered so much. He did not know how grave +Christian's illness had become, and he thought the hope of speedy +liberation would be the best possible medicine to him. But when he saw +Elton and asked for admission to the prisoner, he heard with dismay that +the discovery had come too late, and that his plan was impracticable. +Elton did not hesitate in the least about letting him enter the room. + +"Half the town might go in and out," he said, "and he would take no +notice of them, but I do not know about telling him of a sudden. +Perhaps, sir, you'd ask Mrs. Costello?" + +"Mrs. Costello! Why? Is she here?" + +"Yes, sir; and she seems to be to know more about him than even my wife +who nursed him what she could, ever since he's been ill." + +"It might be as well to consult her, then; could you ask her to speak to +me?" + +"Well, sir, if you like to go up into the room; it's a large one, and +you may talk what you please at the further side; he'll never hear." + +Accordingly they went up. Mrs. Costello was sitting beside her husband, +and had been talking to him. He had been for a short time quite aroused +to interest in what she said, but very little fatigued him, and they +were both silent when the door softly opened to admit the unexpected +visitor. Mrs. Costello rose with a strange spasm at her heart. She +foresaw news, but could not guess what, and she trembled as Mr. Bellairs +shook hands with her. + +"Do you think," he said at once, "that it would be safe to tell him good +news?" + +She looked at him eagerly, and he in turn was startled by the +passionate interest that flashed into her face. + +"What news?" She asked in a quick vehement whisper. + +"That he is proved innocent; that the murderer has confessed." + +"Is it true?" + +"It is perfectly true. I have just left Mr. Bayne, who heard the +confession." + +"Thank God!" + +She felt her limbs giving way, and caught at the corner of the table for +support, but would have fallen if Mr. Bellairs had not prevented it, and +laid her on a sofa which had been lately brought into the room. + +He hurried to the door, and just outside it met Mrs. Elton, who came to +Mrs. Costello's assistance. It was very long, however, before the +faintness could be overcome, and when that was at last accomplished, +Christian had fallen asleep; they waited then for his waking, and +meanwhile Mrs. Costello heard from Mr. Bellairs the outline of what had +happened. + +At last Christian awoke, and Mrs. Costello begged herself to tell him as +much of the truth as it might be safe for him to hear, but she found it +extremely difficult to make him understand. If she could have said to +him, "You are free, and I am going to take you away from here," it would +have been easy; as it was, she even doubted whether he at last +understood that the accusation which had caused his imprisonment was +removed. But to herself the joy was infinite. The last few weeks had +taught her to look at things in a new aspect, and the removal of the +last horrible burden which had been laid upon her made all the rest seem +light. + +Mr. Bellairs, much wondering at her agitation, wished to accompany her +home, but she longed to be alone, and sending for a sleigh, she left the +jail, and reached home at last with her happy tidings. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +Mrs. Costello leaned back in her chair, and Mr. Strafford watched her +from under the shadow of his hand. Since the winter set in she had taken +to wear a soft white shawl, and her caps were of a closer, simpler make +than they used to be--perhaps these changes made her look older. It was +impossible, too, that she should have passed through the trouble of the +last few months without showing its effects to some degree, and yet it +seemed to her old friend that there was more alteration than he could +see occasion for. Her face had a weary, worn-out look, and the hand that +lay listlessly on the arm of her chair was terribly thin. Those fainting +fits, too, of which Lucia had told him, and the one which she had had +that day, were alarming. He knew the steady self-command which she had +been used to exert in the miseries of her married life, and judged that +her long endurance must have weakened her physical powers no little +before she was so far conquered by emotion. He consoled himself, +however, with the idea that her sufferings must be now nearly at an end, +and that she was so young still that she could only need rest and +happiness to recover. He said this to himself, and yet meantime he +watched her uneasily, and did not feel at all so sure of her recovery as +he tried to persuade himself he did. + +There had been a long silence; for, after Mrs. Costello had told her +story, there was enough to occupy the thoughts of all, and after a while +each feared to break upon the other's reverie. And as it happened, the +meditations of the two elder people had turned in almost the same +direction, though they were guided by a different knowledge of +circumstances. Mrs. Costello knew that to be true which Mr. Strafford +only vaguely feared; she was thoroughly aware of the precarious hold she +had on life, and how each fresh shock, whether of joy or sorrow, +hastened the end. Her one anxiety was for Lucia, and the safe disposal +of her future. She told herself often that her cares were exaggerated, +but they would stay with her nevertheless, and rather seemed to grow in +intensity with every change that occurred. But to-night, certainly, a +gleam of the hope which she had of late, so carefully shut out, again +crossed her mind. How great a change had come since morning, since last +night, when she wrote that final decisive letter to Maurice! It was +already on its way to England, she knew, for it chanced to be the very +time for the mail starting; and there would be an interval of a week +between its arrival and that of any later intelligence. For a week +Maurice would believe Lucia's father to be a murderer, and if _then_, in +spite of all, he remained faithful to his old love, would he not have an +unanswerable right to claim her--would there be any excuse for denying +his claim since her father was proved to be innocent? The belief that he +would be faithful was, after all, strong in Mrs. Costello's mind; she +who had known Maurice all his life knew perfectly that no +considerations, which had himself in any way for their object, would +have the smallest weight with him against his love, or even against what +he chose to consider his honour. + +Her face unconsciously brightened while she thought over all these +things, and suffered herself again to dwell on her old favourite idea +without being in the least doubtful as to Lucia's final consent. Yet +while she thus laid the foundation for new castles in the air, Lucia +herself was busy with thoughts and recollections not too favourable to +her mother's plans. + +Percy, not Maurice, filled _her_ mind. She went back, in her fancies, to +the night when he had told her she must go with him to England, and she +had been so happy and so ignorant of all that was to separate them. Then +she thought of the next day, and how she had sent him away, and told him +that it would disgrace him to marry her. Somehow the disgrace which had +weighed so heavily on her then seemed marvellously light now, since she +had known one so much deeper; and in the blessed sense of freedom which +came to her through Clarkson's confession, she was ready to think that +all else was of small consequence. Did not girls marry every day whose +fathers were all that her father had been? Ah, not _all_; there was +always that Indian blood, which, though it might be the blood of kings +and heroes, put its possessor on a level with the lowest of Europeans, +or rather put him apart as something little higher than a brute. She +knew this; but to-night she would not think of it. She would only see +what she liked; and for the first time began to weave impossible fabrics +of hope and happiness. Where was he, her one lover, for she thought of +no other? She had no fear of a rival with him, not even of that Lady +Adeliza, of whom she had heard, and whom she had once feared. Now she +knew that he really had loved _her_, and feared nothing; for even +supposing that he would in time forget her, love had not had time to +change yet. And need it change at all? She and her mother were going +by-and-by to Europe, and there they might meet. Who could tell? + +But all these things which have taken so long to say took but a few +minutes to think; and of the three who sat together, neither would have +guessed how long a train of ideas passed through the brains of the +others in the interval of their talk. Mrs. Costello was the first to +rouse herself. + +"You do not yet know," she said to Mr. Strafford, "what my plans for +to-morrow are. I meant to ask you to go with me to the jail, and Mr. +Leigh has kindly offered to join us." + +"You have quite decided, then, to let everybody know?" + +"I _had_ quite decided; and now, even if I still wished to keep the +secret, it is too late." + +"Why?" + +"I have already told Mr. Leigh and his son; and besides that, Mr. +Bellairs and Mrs. Elton must both have wondered why I should be more +excited by what we heard to-day than anybody else." + +"That is true; but, from what you have told me, I had begun to doubt +whether you need acknowledge your relationship. It seems by no means +certain now that to do so would be of much benefit to Christian." + +"It would give me the right to be with him constantly. We have made up +our minds, both Lucia and I, as to what we are to do. Don't, please, try +to alter our plans." + +"I hesitate," he answered, "only because you have already suffered so +much, and I fear the excitement for you." + +"All the excitement possible on that subject is over. You will see that +I shall take what has to come yet quietly enough. And I am certain that +you will not tell me that a wife is excusable if she neglects a dying +husband." + +"Assuredly not. You will be glad to have Mr. Leigh with you?" + +"For some things, yes. Yesterday I thought that there was no one whose +presence could have been such a comfort to me; for, except himself, our +greatest friends here are, as you know, the nearest connections of Dr. +Morton; so that till this confession, which has done so much for us, I +could not have asked for sympathy or help from them." + +"No; but now they would give it readily enough if they knew. What do you +think of going first to Mrs. Bellairs, or asking her to come to you? It +seems to me that, if that were not the most comfortable thing for you, +it would be for Lucia." + +Lucia looked eagerly at her mother. + +"Yes, mamma," she said; "let me go into Cacouna in the morning, and ask +her to come and see you. Do tell her first, and let her tell Bella." + +Mrs. Costello understood how her child caught at the idea of being +relieved from the sense of deceit which had lately weighed upon her +whenever she was in the company of her two friends. The idea, too, of +telling her secret to the kindly ear of a woman rather than to men, was +an improvement on her own purpose. She assented, therefore, thankfully. + +"Only," she said, "there is no need for you to go. I will write a note +to Mrs. Bellairs, and I think she will come to us." + +But, as it happened, the note, although written, was not sent. On the +following morning, just as breakfast was over at the Cottage, Mrs. +Bellairs' pony and sleigh came to the door, and, after a hasty inquiry +for Mrs. Costello, Mrs. Bellairs herself came in. + +"William told me," she said, "that he had seen you yesterday, and that +you were not well; so I thought the best thing I could do was to come +myself, and see how you were to-day." + +There were a few minutes of talk, like, and yet unlike, what might have +taken place between the same party at any other time--unlike, for each +was talking of one thing, and thinking of another; even Mrs. Bellairs, +who had, of course, heard from her husband the history of her friend's +extraordinary and unaccountable agitation at the jail, and was full of +wonder and curiosity in consequence. + +After a little while Mr. Strafford left the room. Lucia was watching for +an opportunity to follow him, when her mother signed to her to remain, +and at once began to speak of what had happened yesterday. + +"That unhappy man's confession," she said, "must have been a relief to +you all, I should think; but you cannot guess what it was to us." + +"It was a relief," Mrs. Bellairs answered, "for it will save so much +horrible publicity, and the going over again of all that dreadful story; +but it is shocking to think of that poor Indian, shut up in prison so +long when he was innocent. But William will not rest till he is at +liberty." + +"I fear he will never be that. He is dying." + +"Oh! I hope not. William told me he was very ill; but when we get him +once free, he must be taken good care of, and surely he will recover." + +"I think not. I do not think it possible he can live many days; and no +one has the same interest in the question that I have." + +She stopped a moment, and then, drawing Lucia towards her, laid her hand +gently on her shoulder. + +"Dear friend," she said, "you have spoken to me often about this child's +beauty; look at her well, and see if it will not tell you what her +father was." + +Mrs. Bellairs obeyed. Lucia, under the impulse of excitement, had +suddenly risen, and now stood pressing one hand upon the mantelpiece to +steady herself. Her eyes were full of a wistful inexplicable meaning; +her whole figure with its dark and graceful beauty seemed to express a +mystery, but it was one to which no key appeared. + +"Her father?" Mrs. Bellairs repeated. "He was a Spaniard, was not he?" + +"I have never said so. People imagined it, and I was glad that they +should, but it is not true." + +"Who then? She is dark like a Spaniard or Italian." + +"Are there no dark races but those of Europe?" + +"_What_ do you mean? Tell me, for Heaven's sake!" + +"You have always thought me a widow, yet my husband is still alive. I +left him long ago when he did not need me; now he is ill and in prison, +and I am going back to him. He is Christian, whom you have all thought a +murderer." + +"Christian! the Indian? Impossible! Lucia, can this be true?" + +"It is true." + +"And you knew it all this time?" + +"Yes. All the time." + +"My poor child, what misery! But I cannot understand. How can this be?" + +"Do you not shrink from us! We tell you the truth. We are not what you +have always known us; we are only the wife and daughter of an Indian." + +"Don't--don't speak so. What difference can it make to me? Only, how +could you bear all you must have borne? It is wonderful. I can scarcely +believe it yet." + +"Do not suppose that Lucia has been deceiving you all these years; _she_ +only knew the truth a few months ago." + +"But there is no deceit. You had a right to keep such a secret if you +chose." Mrs. Bellairs rose. She stepped to Lucia's side and kissed her +pale cheeks. "You must have had Indian courage," she said, "to be so +brave and steady at your age." + +Lucia returned the kiss with an earnestness that expressed a whole world +of grateful affection. Then she slipped out of the room, and left the +two friends together. + +They both sat down again; this time side by side, and Mrs. Costello told +in few words as much of her story as was needful. She dwelt, however, so +lightly on the sufferings of her life at Moose Island that any one, who +had known or loved her less than Mrs. Bellairs did, might have thought +she had fled with too little reason from the ties she was now so anxious +to resume. She spoke very shortly, too, of the fears she had had during +the past summer of some discovery, and mentioned having told Lucia her +true history, without any allusion to the particular time when it was +told. Mrs. Bellairs recollected the meeting with the squaw at the farm, +and inquired whether Lucia then knew of her Indian descent. + +"No," Mrs. Costello said, "that was one of the things which alarmed me. +I did not tell her till some time after that; not, indeed, until after +Bella's marriage." + +"Poor child! and then for this terrible trouble to come! No wonder you +are both changed." + +"Do you think _her_ changed?" Mrs. Costello asked in alarm. "She has +been so brave." + +"She has grown to look much older and as if she thought too much; that +is all. And _that_ is no wonder." + +Mrs. Costello was silent for a moment. She knew that Lucia had had +another burden, especially her own, to bear, and it seemed to her that +Mrs. Bellairs must know or guess something of it too. If she did, it +would be as well for her to know the exact truth. She made up her mind +at once. + +"I found that it was necessary to tell her," she said, "just before Mr. +Percy went away." + +Mrs. Bellairs looked at her inquiringly. + +"I was afraid," she answered, "that he was likely to cause you some +uneasiness." + +"He did more than that," Mrs. Costello said. "He gave Lucia her first +hard thoughts of her mother. But after all I may be doing him injustice. +Did you know that he really wanted to carry her away with him?" + +"He _did_! And she refused him?" + +"She refused him, when she knew her own position, and the impossibility +of her marrying him." + +"Dear Mrs. Costello, what complications! I begin to understand now all +that has puzzled me." + +"You had some suspicion of the truth?" + +"Of part of it. I don't like Edward Percy, and I was afraid he was +gaining an influence with Lucia which would make her unhappy. I even +thought at one time that he was really in earnest, but from some news we +received a few days ago I set that down as a mistake." + +"News of him? What was it?" + +"That he is engaged to a lady whom his father wished him to marry; and +that they are to be married almost immediately." + +"I am very glad," Mrs. Costello said, "and there is nothing to be +surprised about. He was tempted for the moment by a pretty face, but he +was not a man to waste time in thinking about a girl who had refused +him." + +She said this; but she thought in her heart, 'He is not like Maurice. If +Lucia had refused him so, he would have known that she loved him still; +and while she did so, he would have had no thoughts for any other.' She +asked, however, + +"Did you hear from _him_ that this was true?" + +"No. But it was from an old college friend of my husband's who is now in +England." + +"I do not see any use in telling Lucia. She dismissed him herself, and +is, I hope, fast forgetting him in all these other affairs that have +come upon us." + +"Surely she cannot have cared enough for him to feel the separation as +she would have done if he had really been worth loving," Mrs. Bellairs +added; and then they left the subject, quite forgetting that reason and +love seldom go hand-in-hand, and that Lucia was still devoutly believing +in two falsities: first, that Percy was capable of a steady and faithful +affection, and secondly, that he must still have something of that +affection for her. Even at this very moment she was comforting her heart +with this belief; and the discovery that her mother's dearest friends +showed no inclination to desert them in their new character, filled her +with a kind of blind sweet confidence in that one whom, as she now +thought, she had treated so ungenerously, and who did not yet know their +secret. + +In the parlour, meanwhile, many things were discussed. Mrs. Bellairs +assured her friend that the necessary arrangements for Christian's +release had already been commenced, and that Mr. Bellairs would see that +there was not a moment's delay which could be avoided. On the other +hand, however, there was strong in Mrs. Costello's mind the doubt +whether her husband would live to be removed. The utmost she now hoped +for, with any certainty, was to have liberty to be with him constantly +till the end. Finally, she told Mrs. Bellairs of her intention of going +to the jail that day and announcing her claim to the first place by the +prisoner's sick bed. Mrs. Bellairs thought a little over this plan, then +she said, + +"It is impossible that in this weather you can be constantly going +backwards and forwards between here and the jail. At our house you would +be scarcely three minutes' drive away, and there is always the sleigh +and Bob. You and Lucia must come and stay with us." + +And to this plan after much opposition and argument they were all +obliged to give in; Mr. Strafford and Lucia were called into council, +but Mrs. Bellairs was resolved. + +"You shall see nobody," she said. "You shall be exactly as much at +liberty as if you were at home, and it will spare you both time and +strength for your nursing. It will do Bella good, too; and if we can be +of any use or comfort to you, it will seem a kind of reparation." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +The end of the conference was that Mr. Strafford started alone for the +jail, while Mrs. Costello and Mrs. Bellairs went together to Mr. Leigh, +to explain to him the new state of affairs; and after that, drove back +to Cacouna, whither Lucia also was to follow later. Mr. Strafford could +at that time spare but one day for his friends. He was to leave by the +evening's boat; and the Cottage was for the present to be deserted, +except by Margery. + +Mr. Strafford was admitted with, if possible, even less hesitation than +usual to Christian's room. Every one understood now that the prisoner +was entirely innocent, and in the revulsion of feeling, every one was +disposed to treat with all tenderness and honour as a martyr the very +man who, if he had never been falsely accused, they would probably have +regarded only with disgust or contempt. + +Not that there was room for either feeling _now_. It was as if this +man's history had been written from beginning to end, and then the ink +washed from all the middle pages. What memory he had left, went back to +the days when he had been a pupil of the Jesuit priests, and the traces +of that time remained with him, and were evident to all. But all was +blank from those days to these, when he lay in the wintry sunshine +dying, and scarcely conscious that he was dying in a prison. When a +voice out of that forgotten past spoke to him, his recollection seemed +to revive for a moment, and he answered in English or in Ojibway, as he +was addressed. At other times, if he began to speak at all, it was in +French, the most familiar language of his boyhood, and sometimes scraps +of the old priestly Latin would come to his lips as he lay half dozing, +and dreaming perhaps of his life in the mission-school, and the time +when he was to have been a teacher of his own people. Chiefly, however, +he lay quite silent, and seemed neither to see nor to hear what took +place around him. His face, where the hand of death was already +visible, had more of its original beauty than Mr. Strafford had ever +seen on it before; and as he came near to the bedside, he for the first +time began to comprehend, what had always till now been an enigma to +him, why Mary Wynter had loved and married her husband. + +Christian roused himself little when he perceived his visitor, and Mr. +Strafford seized the opportunity of speaking to him on the subject of +his imprisonment, as a step towards the great news he had to tell. + +"You will be glad," he said, "when you can go away from here. It will be +very soon now, perhaps." + +"No," was the answer. "I do not want to go now. If they could take away +a large piece of that wall," he went on dreamily, "so that I could +breathe and see the sky, that is all I care for now." + +"You would like, however, to know that you _can_ go away when you +please?" + +Christian looked at him earnestly. + +"But it is a prison," he said. "How do you mean, that I can go away?" + +"Do you recollect why you were brought here?" + +"Yes. They thought I had killed somebody. It was all a mistake. I knew +nothing about it; but everybody thought I did." + +"They know now that it _was_ a mistake. The man who really did it, has +told all." + +"And now?" + +"Now you are proved to be innocent. In a very short time you will be +free." + +"Free? I shall be free?" + +For a moment the dying man raised himself upright. His eyes flashed and +his face glowed as if that thought of freedom had yet power to bring him +back to life. Then he fell back again, and clasped his thin hands over +his eyes. + +"Too late," he muttered, "too late!" + +Then he began to talk about things that belonged to that former life +which seemed constantly present to his mind. He talked to himself at +first in a half whisper; then, noticing Mr. Strafford, who still sat by +his bedside, he took him for one of his former masters, and spoke to him +in French. + +"Mon pere," he said, "pray do not be angry with us. We lost our way, and +that is why we have been so long. The woods are green still, but the +ground is soaked with rain, and it is hard to get through the bushes, +and we are very tired." + +A long sigh of weariness followed the words; and the prisoner fell into +one of his frequent dozes. + +So the great news had been told, and this was all its effect. Yes, +Christian was right; it was too late. Clarkson's work had been well +done; and his second victim was past all human aid. + +Mr. Strafford sat and watched; and while he watched, he thought over all +that he had known of the lives of these two, Christian and his wife, who +now occupied his mind so fully. He was still thinking when the doctor +came to pay his daily visit. The two had not met before, but each knew +the other well by report; and to-day each was anxious to question the +other on the same subject. Mr. Strafford, however, was most anxious, and +began first. + +"You know, of course," he said, "what I suppose all Cacouna is talking +of. I want to know whether Clarkson's confession has really come too +late?" + +"Too late for what, my dear sir? For this poor fellow's justification?" + +"Not exactly that, but for his liberation." + +The doctor shook his head. + +"I have my doubts," he said. "The only thing to be hoped is, that when +he hears that he is really at liberty, it may give him a little +rousing--just stimulate him sufficiently to allow of his being moved +into freer air." + +"If that is the only hope, it has failed already," Mr. Strafford +answered, and told what had taken place. + +"Then," said the doctor, "I give him up. I am afraid his life is just a +matter of days, perhaps of hours; but let me go and talk to him a +little, and then I will tell you my opinion." + +He went to the bedside, and began talking in his brisk, cheerful way, to +his patient, who was now awake. It was evident, however, that the effort +to understand and remember was weaker even than it had been yesterday, +and that this was the effect of increased physical prostration. There +was no longer any fever to supply temporary strength; but life was dying +out quietly, but hopelessly. + +Mr. Strafford still waited, with some anxiety, for the decisive +sentence. He had made up his mind that other questions beside and beyond +that of Christian's own fate might be made to depend upon it; and it +cannot be said truly that he felt much sorrow at the idea of its being +unfavourable. It was clear and decided enough, at any rate. + +"He may live for two or three days. To attempt to move him would be only +to hasten his death." + +"You are certain that there is no hope?" + +"Not a shadow." + +"Do you think it likely his mind will grow any clearer towards the +last?" + +"I do not think it; in fact, it is extremely improbable. You see, his +wandering is simply the result of weakness; as the weakness increases, +the mental faculties will probably cease gradually to act at all. One +can't, of course, say positively when; if he becomes quite unconscious +to-night, death will probably follow in the course of the next +twenty-four hours." + +"Poor fellow! There is little, then, that can be done for him?" + +"Next to nothing. He wants a nurse to give him some little nourishment +when he wakes up, and that is pretty nearly all." + +"I shall bring him the best possible nurse," Mr. Strafford said. "Mrs. +Costello wishes to come and remain here." + +The doctor looked at him curiously. + +"Mrs. Costello is my patient also," he said; "I am half inclined to +forbid her coming." + +"She is your patient, doctor! How is that? I thought she was looking +ill, though she denies it." + +"She is not ill; but as you are an old friend and adviser, I don't mind +telling you that her health is in a critical state, and that I have +forbidden her all excitement and fatigue." 'Much use,' he added to +himself, in a parenthesis. + +Mr. Strafford looked troubled. + +"She must come here, nevertheless," he said. "Even if it were possible +to keep her away, it would do no good. She would excite herself still +more." + +"Mr. Strafford," said the doctor, "If I thought that Mrs. Costello was +coming here out of mere charity, I should tell her that charity begins +at home, and that she had more reason to think of herself and her +daughter than of any prisoner in the world. However, I _don't_ think it; +and, therefore, all I have to say is, if you have any regard for her or +for Miss Costello, don't let her do more than is absolutely necessary. +Good morning." + +And the busy little man hurried off, and left Mr. Strafford with a new +uneasiness in his mind. + +Mrs. Elton, who came in and out at intervals to see if Christian wanted +anything, made her appearance immediately after, and he took the +opportunity of leaving. He hurried straight to Mrs. Bellairs' house, +where he found the two friends but just arrived. Mrs. Costello was +preparing to start for the jail, but he contrived to give a hint to Mrs. +Bellairs, and they together persuaded her to take an hour's rest before +doing so. + +Mrs. Costello had begged Mrs. Bellairs to tell Bella the secret which +she herself had just heard; and to do so without loss of time; but she +did not wish to be present, or to go through another agitating scene +that day. The two sisters, therefore, left her to rest, and to consult +with Mr. Strafford, while Bella, already excited and disturbed by the +revelations of the preceding day, heard this new and still more +surprising intelligence. It did not, certainly, take many minutes to +tell; but there was so much beyond the mere facts; so many recollections +of words or looks that had been passed by unnoticed at the time; so +much wonder at the courage with which both mother and daughter had faced +the cruel difficulties of their position, that it was nearly an hour +before the conversation ended, and they came back to their guests. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Mr. Strafford was glad to be left alone with Mrs. Costello. He had been +considering seriously what he had heard from the doctor, and what he had +himself seen of Christian's state, and had come to a decision which must +be carried out at once. + +He answered all her questions with this view clearly before him, and +explained to her solicitously how very little consequence it now was to +Christian whether the hands that ministered to his few remaining wants +were those of his own kindred or of pitying strangers. When he thought +he had made this quite evident to her, he reminded her that there was no +further question of removing either from Christian himself, or from his +wife and daughter, the stain of an undeserved ignominy; he was at this +very moment regarded by all who knew anything of the circumstances as a +victim sacrificed to save Clarkson, and justified by the manifest +interference of Providence--placed thus in a better position as regarded +public opinion than he could have been by any other train of events. +Thus no idea of compensation need longer be entertained; the generous +yearning towards the oppressed must die now that oppression was ended; +and the only result of declaring the long-concealed marriage would be to +bring upon the two women who had already suffered so much in consequence +of it, a fresh torture of wonder and notoriety--in short, there was no +longer any sufficient reason for the relationship becoming known, and +Mr. Strafford came gradually to the point of suggesting this to Mrs. +Costello. + +She heard him with surprise. As he went on telling her all that was +meant to prepare her for this idea, she listened and assented without +suspecting what was coming, but when she did understand him she said +much as she had done before, + +"It is too late to make any change now; three or four persons already +know." + +"But," Mr. Strafford answered, "they are just the persons whom you can +trust, and whom, most likely you would have wished to tell, at any +rate." + +"That is true. You think then that the truth may still be kept secret?" + +"I see no reason why it should not. Doctor Hardy suspects it, but +medical men know how to keep family secrets, and as for whatever wonder +your illness may have excited in either Mrs. Elton or her husband, the +doctor himself can easily set that at rest by saying what I am afraid is +too true, that you are subject to fainting fits." + +"You must give him a hint to do so then, please; and I know that the +others whom I have told will keep silence faithfully. But then I am not +yet quite convinced that silence ought to be kept." + +"You still feel, however, that _not_ to keep it is in some degree to +sacrifice Lucia?" + +"Yes. But you know that we have long ago weighed that matter. Heaven +knows that my heart is in the same scale as my darling's happiness, and +just for that very reason I am afraid to alter our decision." + +"You are right in saying '_we_.' I helped you to decide once, and I +wish to change your decision now; for we yielded then to what we both +believed to be the claim of duty, arising out of Christian's +imprisonment and danger. Now, however, that he is quite safe, and that +his very imprisonment proves to be one of the very best things that +could happen to him, the case is reversed; and he is no longer the first +person to be thought of." + +"You do not wish to prevent me from nursing him?" + +"Certainly not. I only think that you can nurse him just as effectually +and tenderly without all the world knowing the claim he has upon you." + +"You are quite certain that his memory and power of recognition will not +return?" + +Mr. Strafford repeated what Dr. Hardy had said. + +"I must think," Mrs. Costello answered. "Everything has come upon me so +quickly and confusingly, that I cannot decide all at once. Give me a +little while to consider." + +She leaned back wearily, and Mr. Strafford, taking a book, went and sat +down at the further end of the room. So they remained till Mrs. Bellairs +and Mrs. Morton came in together. + +When they did so, Mrs. Costello looked up with a half smile, + +"I am something like the old man in the fable," she said, "every new +piece of advice I receive alters my plans." + +"How?" asked Mrs. Bellairs. "Who has been advising you now?" + +"No new adviser, at any rate. My old and tried friend there, who, I +believe, gives quite as much thought to my affairs as if they were his +own." + +Mr. Strafford came forward. + +"I have been trying to persuade Mrs. Costello," he said, "that a secret +which half-a-dozen people know may yet be a secret." + +"Even when half the half-dozen are women? I am sure, Mr. Strafford, we +are indebted to you, if I guess truly what you mean." + +A look, grave enough, passed between the two, though they spoke lightly. + +"I have been thinking over all you say," Mrs. Costello went on, +addressing Mr. Strafford, "and I have decided to follow your advice. But +if at any moment, even the last, there should seem sufficient reason for +changing my opinion, remember that I do not promise not to do so." + +Mr. Strafford was fully satisfied with this; he knew, or thought he +knew, perfectly, that Christian's condition was such as to ensure no +further change of conduct regarding him; and not long after, he and Mrs. +Costello returned together to the prison. + +For two or three hours they sat beside the prisoner, and talked at +intervals to each other, or to him, with long pauses of thought between. +There was much for both to think of. The necessity of action seemed to +be all over, or at least, to be suspended as long as Christian's life +should last; and in this time of waiting, whether it were hours or days, +all that could be done was to build up plans for the future which, when +they were built, any one of the various possible changes of +circumstances might at once overthrow. + +But so entirely had Mrs. Costello identified herself with her daughter +in all her habits and thoughts, that that dwelling on the future, which +is the special prerogative of youth, seemed as natural to her as though +her own life had all lain before, instead of behind her; and she found +herself perpetually occupied with the consideration of what was best to +be done for that future which had been so often taken, as it were, out +of her guidance. + +Sitting by her husband's deathbed, however, the long-estranged wife +seemed to live a double life. The recollection of the past--of the short +and secret courtship with its illusions, greater and more perilous than +love's illusions commonly are--of her first days of married life, when, +in spite of her rash disobedience, she was feverishly happy; of the +awaking, and total disenchantment, and the wretched years that followed, +all came to her in a floating, broken vision, filling her with emotions +which had, at last, lost their bitterness. She yielded to them without +resistance and without effort, and sank into a long silence, which was +broken at last by Mr. Strafford. + +"I must leave you," he said. "The boat starts in half an hour, and I +want to see Mrs. Bellairs for a moment." + +Mrs. Costello roused herself. + +"Good-bye, then," she answered. "Dear Mr. Strafford, you know I have +long ago given up trying to thank you for all you do for me; you must +accept obedience as a proof of gratitude." + +"See that you do obey me then," he replied smiling, "by taking care of +yourself. Have you any message for Lucia?" + +"Do you not think she might come here?" + +"Yes, perfectly well. Shall I tell her you expect her?" + +"Please." + +"And you will return to Mrs. Bellairs with her?" + +"We shall see. I do not promise." + +"Well, I will not ask too much. Good-bye." + +He went to the bedside, took Christian's hand and bade him also +good-bye. He was roused for a moment, but his thoughts still returned to +the old days. + +"Adieu! father," he said; "I think I shall be gone when you come back. +Do you know that I am going on a journey? They will not tell me where, +but I shall not forget you all here. Ask the Saints to bring me safe +back." + +Mr. Strafford knelt by the bed for a moment, and asked a heavenly guide +for the poor wanderer on this his last journey, but he seemed to hear +nothing and went on murmuring to himself, + +"Ave Maria, gratia plena--" + +When her friend was gone, and Mrs. Costello came back to her seat, he +was still feebly repeating "pro nobis peccatoribus, pro nobis +peccatoribus," with a faint trembling voice, as if even to the dulled +faculties, through the deepening shadow of death, some faint distorted +gleam of the truth had pierced, and the soul was, in truth, less torpid +than the brain. + +His wife sat by his side, and listened, deeply touched. She perceived +that the part of his life with which she was associated, was dead to +him; she could only stand aside and watch while the shadows of an +earlier time gathered closely round him. But the more she understood +this, the more a painful tenderness filled her heart towards him; she +almost fancied that she had loved him all these years, and only found it +out now that he had forgotten her. She began to grow impatient for +Lucia's coming, and to long for the moment when she should be able to +say, + +"My child, this is your father." + +The broad clear light of sunshine upon snow had begun to soften towards +twilight when Lucia came. + +Mrs. Bellairs brought her, but stayed below, that that meeting might +have no witnesses. A trembling hand upon the lock warned Mrs. Costello, +and she met her daughter at the door and brought her in. + +Lucia had been struggling all day--ever since she knew that she was, at +last, to see her father--to forget the one moment when they had met +before; and all her efforts had been worse than useless. She came in, +agitated and distressed, with the vision of that night clear and vivid +before her recollection. So it was at the threshold. Her mother led her +to the bedside, and the vision fled. Her eyes fell upon a face, little +darker than her own, where not the slightest flush even of life-like +colour remained, where a perfect calm had given back their natural +nobleness to the worn features, and where scarcely a line was left to +show the trace of life's sins or sufferings. She stood for a moment half +bewildered. She knew that what she saw was but the faintest shadow of +what had been, and, turning, she threw her arms about her mother's neck, +and whispered, + +"Ah, mamma! I understand all now." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Mother and daughter watched for some time in silence. At last Lucia +whispered, "May I go and tell Mrs. Bellairs that I shall remain with +you?" + +"Is she here, then? Go, rather, and ask her to come to me for a moment." + +Lucia went, and came to Mrs. Bellairs with such strange gladness in her +face that she looked as she had not done for months past. + +"Will you go up to mamma?" she said. "My father seems to be asleep, and +she wishes to see you." + +And the two went upstairs together without further words. Mrs. Bellairs +feared lest another strange face at the bedside might disturb the dying +man; she lingered, therefore, at a little distance, but she, too, looked +with wonder at the silent figure lying there in a kind of peaceful +state, all unlike the vagrant Indian--the supposed criminal--she had +heard of. Mrs. Costello came to her, and Lucia sat down in her mother's +place. + +"I brought you a message from William," Mrs. Bellairs said. "The order +for his release is come. He is free. Is it too late?" + +"Come a little nearer and see for yourself. You will not disturb him. +Yes, dear friend, it is too late for any release but one to reach him +now." + +Mrs. Bellairs' lip trembled. "Ah, how cruel it seems!" she said. "How +can you forgive us?" + +"Forgive _you_? Why?" + +"It seems as if we were to blame, because it was my poor Bella's loss +that brought this on him." + +"It was Clarkson's wickedness, nothing else. But do not let us talk of +that. Some good has come out of the evil, as you see." + +The eyes of both the friends rested on the father and daughter so +strangely brought together. The strong likeness between them was +unmistakable, yet Lucia's beauty had never been more vivid and striking +than now when she watched her dying father, with the light of such +varied emotions flickering on her face. + +"Poor child!" Mrs. Costello went on. "This is better than I ever hoped +for her." They went nearer, and Mrs. Bellairs bent down and kissed +Lucia's cheek. + +"Make your mother go home with me," she whispered. "This will be more +than she is equal to." Then turning again to her friend she went on, "I +see you are right, and I must go back and tell my husband. You will come +with me?" + +"No. I have a presentiment that I shall not be needed here long; while I +am, I must stay." + +"But you cannot be sure, and you must not tire yourself out at the +beginning." + +"I shall not tire myself. I can rest here perfectly, only I cannot leave +him." + +"We met the doctor just now. He said he was coming here again. Will you +come if he advises it?" + +Mrs. Costello again shook her head. + +"You all think too much of me. You must leave me here, dear Mrs. +Bellairs, and Lucia can stay for an hour or two if she wishes; and tell +Mr. Bellairs how much we thank him, and that nothing can be done now." + +Lucia looked wistfully at her mother's pale face. + +"Cannot you trust me to watch here for a little while? There seems to be +so very little to do," she said; but Mrs. Costello had made up her mind, +and their friend left them both together. + +As she went down, the doctor was coming in. She would not leave the jail +until she had heard his report; so she sat down to wait in Mrs. Elton's +sitting-room. + +Doctor Hardy had little expectation of finding any change. He had said +to Mr. Strafford that the next four-and-twenty hours might bring the +final one, but even that would come softly and gradually. He knew also +that he should find Mrs. Costello installed as nurse, and guessed that +she had more than an ordinary interest in her task; but for the first +moment he doubted whether she knew the true state of her patient. This +doubt, however, she soon ended, for she asked, as he had been asked +before. + +"Do you think it likely he may become conscious again?" + +He shook his head. + +She sighed. + +"It is better so, no doubt, but I wish so much for five minutes even." + +Then she remembered that she was speaking out her thoughts to one who +was not in her secret. She hesitated a moment, but as her eye fell upon +Lucia, she decided to trust this one more. Her voice trembled, however, +as she spoke. + +"You have seen already," she said, "that we are not strangers; I think I +ought to tell you the truth. I am his wife; we were married long ago in +England, and separated when Lucia was a baby." + +Doctor Hardy bowed. He did not know exactly what to say, and saw no +necessity for confessing that he had, some time ago, surmised pretty +nearly the facts he was now told. + +Mrs. Costello went on: "I intended to acknowledge my marriage, but since +it can be of no benefit to my husband, my friends have persuaded me not +to do so. But you can imagine how much I wish----" She faltered and +stopped, looking at the dying man, who was never to know what care and +love surrounded him at last. + +"There is certainly a possibility that the stupor may pass off for a +time," the doctor said, "but, my dear madam, for your sake I cannot +wish it. You must be content to know that there is no pain or distress +attending this state, and that it is by far the best for you and for +him." + +He went up to the bed and gently touched Christian's hand. It was quite +powerless and chilly, but at the touch he opened his eyes, and seemed +dimly to recognize his visitor. One or two questions were asked, and +answered as if in a dream; then the weary eyes closed again, and all +around seemed forgotten. + +The doctor gave some slight directions and then left; but to Mrs. +Bellairs he said, + +"It is nearly over. Mrs. Costello will stay to-night, but probably +before morning you will be able to get her away." + +They went out together; but an hour later Mrs. Bellairs came back to +wait, lest in the night the two who watched upstairs might want a friend +at hand. The jailer's wife sent her husband to bed, and making a bright +fire, sat up with her guest as they had previously agreed. + +Night wore on, however, and all remained still and undisturbed. About +midnight Christian's doze deepened into a sound sleep, and Lucia too, +sitting in the warmth of the store, slept in spite of herself. For +nearly an hour the room was so still that Mrs. Costello could count +every tick of her watch, and every change in the flickering sound of the +wood fire. _She_ had no inclination to sleep. + +For this one hour she felt herself a wife like other wives--a wife and +mother,--watching her husband and her child. It was still a mystery to +her how this could be, but the feeling had its own exquisite sweetness, +how dearly soever that sweetness was bought; and she drank it in +greedily. Now and then she rose softly to assure herself that all was +well, and each time the even breath and calm face spoke of rest that +might have been life-giving, if there had yet been in the worn-out frame +the faintest power of revival. + +But between one and two o'clock Christian awoke. He did not move, but +his wife, looking at him, saw his eyes open, and an indescribable +difference in his aspect which made her heart leap, for she knew that +his mind had awakened also, for that one last recognition that she had +so longed for. She said nothing, however, but brought a few spoonfuls of +wine and gave to him. He took them, watching her silently all the while, +but not seeming fully to recognize her until she came and knelt down at +his side, taking his cold hand in hers. Then he smiled, and turning a +little towards her, said "Mary!" + +She could not answer, but she bent her head down for a moment upon the +hand she held. + +"You have been here before?" he went on. "I remember seeing you. You +have forgiven me, then?" + +"Quite. Think of other things now." + +"I can't think of anything except that I must be dying, and that I am +glad you are here." + +"I have been near you all the while you have been here; I shall not +leave you again." + +"No, not again--it will be such a little while, and I cannot hurt you +now. Have you been happy?" + +"Sometimes. I had our child." + +"Where is she?" + +"Here. She was tired and has fallen asleep." + +"Don't wake her yet. I know I forget a great deal--everything seems far +off--but just at last I wanted you, and you are here." + +Both were silent for a minute. Then he spoke again-- + +"Mary, why did you marry an Indian?" + +"Because I loved him," she said, her voice half choked by sobs. + +"It was a pity. You knew nothing. They cheated you into it; but I think, +though he was a brute, he loved you always. In his way, you know, as +much as he could." + +His mind seemed to be beginning to wander again, and his voice grew +weaker. She rose, crying quietly, and gave him a little more wine. Then +she touched Lucia and said, "Come, my child." + +Lucia was instantly awake. She followed her mother to the bedside. + +"Here is our daughter. Can you see her?" + +"Not very well. Is she like you?" + +"No. She is an Indian girl--strangers say she is beautiful, but to me +she is only my brave, good child." + +"I am glad. She will make amends. It is all right now; you will be free +and safe. Good-bye." + +He was silent for awhile, lying with closed eyes; and when he spoke +again it was in Ojibway. He seemed to be talking to his own people, and +to fancy himself out in the woods with a hunting party. After a time +this ceased also, and then he began to talk confusedly in the three +languages which were familiar to him, and in broken, incoherent +sentences. His voice, however, grew fainter and fainter. The wine which +they gave him at short intervals seemed to revive him each time for a +moment; but neither of them could doubt that the end was very near. + +But as it came nearer still, the delusion that had been strongest lately +came back to the dying man. He again fancied himself a child--the +favourite pupil of the Jesuit fathers. He began to repeat softly, +lessons they had taught him--prayers and scraps of hymns, sometimes +Latin, sometimes French. Once, after a pause, he began to recite, quite +clearly, a Latin Psalm-- + +"O Domine, libera animam meam: misericors Dominus et justus; et Deus +miseretur.... Convertere, anima mea, in requiem tuam, quia Dominus +benefecit tibi"-- + +Again there was a silence, for he was deaf to all earthly voices, and +the wife and daughter knelt side by side and listened to those strange +broken sentences, which seemed to come from a mind dead to all outward +influences, yet not wholly unconscious of its own state. + +Once he said "Mary;" but though she held his hand still clasped in +hers, his wife could not make her voice heard in answer. Then he talked +again murmuringly of old times; and last of all when the low musical +tones had grown very feeble, but were musical still, Mary heard, "Mon +Dieu, j'espere avec une ferme confiance"--There the words seemed to +fail, until they grew audible again for one last moment--"la vie +eternelle." + +So he grew silent for ever in this life. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +The cold grey of the early winter morning was just beginning to be +warmed by the first flash of crimson before sunrise, as Mrs. Bellairs +drove away from the prison gates with the two who had kept so strange a +vigil. Neither of them noticed the sky then, or they might have seen how +after the shadows began to disappear, and the snowy glimmer which had +shone palely all night, was swallowed up in the growing brightness of +morning, everything began to be tinged with rosy splendour, and life +fresh and joyous, sprang up to meet the sun. It was winter still--all +last year's leaves and flowers were dead, and there was the hush of snow +and frost upon everything; but over all, after storm and night came +light and gladness, and the flowers would bloom again in their season. + +It was quite early still and few people were stirring. They saw no one +on their arrival except Bella, who was ready to run down and admit them +the moment their sleigh-bells were heard. Mother and daughter went to +their room, where the fire had been burning all night in readiness for +their coming, and where Mrs. Bellairs herself brought them some coffee. +Then Lucia lay down and was soon asleep; and Mrs. Costello seeing that +she was so, followed her example. + +There was no vehement grief to keep her waking in these first hours of +her widowhood, but rather a sense of infinite calm. The thought of her +husband, so long a daily torture and irritation, was now a sacred +memory--the last few hours had been to her the renewal of her marriage +vows, to which death had brought only a fuller ratification, after +life's long divorce. She was very weak and weary; and but for the child +beside her, would have been glad to enter herself that unseen world +whose gates seemed so near, and to have rested there; but it was not +time yet. So she lay and thought, calmly and soberly, till she too +dropped asleep. + +She kept in her room all day till quite evening. Mr. Bellairs had +undertaken to make all the needful arrangements, and it was not +necessary that any one should know that the real direction of affairs +rested with her. Her first occupation was to write to Mr. Strafford, +telling him of Christian's death, and of her own wish, that the body +should be taken to Moose Island for burial. It would have to be removed +as soon as possible from the jail, and she desired that it might be +carried at once to her old home, where she and Lucia would be ready to +receive it. This letter was sent off by a special messenger; but as +there could be no doubt of the answer, all went on at Cacouna as if it +had already arrived. In the evening, when Mrs. Costello came down to +join the rest of the family in the drawing-room, she had changed little +of her usual gentle manner. There might be a deeper shade of gravity, +but she was not, and did not appear, sad. Lucia and Bella were sitting +together, talking softly. They had been speaking of the last few +months--not saying much--but growing into a closer sympathy with each +other, as they understood how great had been their community of sorrow, +than they had ever felt in the unclouded years of their girlish +friendship. It was long since Lucia had given up her fancies about +Bella's marriage. The shock of her widowhood had shaken off all the gay +affectations of the bride and brought her within the comprehension of +Lucia's steadier and more transparent nature. And now that the secret +which had stood so grimly between them was told, nothing remained to +spoil the comfort of their intercourse. + +Except its shortness. While they talked, an occasional sentence spoken +by one or other of the elder group reached their ears, and once they +stopped their conversation to listen. Mrs. Costello was saying, in +answer to some question-- + +"To France, I think. Indeed I am sure we shall go there first." + +"But," said Mrs. Bellairs, "such a voyage at this time of year! Do wait +till spring." + +"Except that it will be cold, I do not think the voyage will be worse +now than at any other time," Mrs. Costello answered quietly. + +"But, Lucia!" said Bella, "surely you are not going away now?" + +"It seems that we are. Mamma has said nothing to me about it to-day, +and I thought she might have given up the idea." + +"Until to-day, then, you knew she intended it?" + +"Yes." Lucia's cheeks grew rosy as she answered, for she remembered why +the idea of European travel had seemed pleasant to her. One word from +her companion might have set all those fluttering thoughts and hopes at +rest; but Bella guessed nothing of them, and neither saw Lucia's change +of colour, nor, if she had seen it, would have understood its cause. + +"Do you think you will be long away?" she asked. + +"I have no idea _now_. I think that before, mamma did not mean to come +back at all." + +"And you can leave Canada, and all of us so easily?" + +"Oh! no, no;" and Lucia blushed more deeply than before. "Oh! Bella, I +am a real Canadian girl. I should long for Canada again often, often, if +I were away,--and for all of you." + +"I don't see," Bella said, half sadly, half crossly, "what good it does +people to go away. There is Maurice, who seems to have everything he can +wish for, and yet, according to Mr. Leigh, he is perfectly restless and +miserable, and wants to come back." + +"Poor Maurice! if he is coming back I wish he would come before we go; +but I suppose he cannot leave while Mr. Beresford lives." + +"I don't see why you should care. You will see him in England; shan't +you?" + +"No. Mamma can't go to England. But perhaps he might come over to see us +in France, if we stop there." + +"Of course, he will. And if by that time you are both home sick, you can +come out together again, you know." + +Lucia shook her head. + +"Maurice will be a great man, and have to stay at home and look after +his estates, and by-and-by you will all forget us when he and Mr. Leigh +are living together in Norfolk, and mamma and I are wandering--who knows +where?" + +Bella's hand fell softly upon her friend's; but they said no more. The +others, too, had grown silent, and there was little more talk among them +that night. + +But after they had separated, and the mother and daughter were alone, +Lucia asked whether their voyage was still really to take place +immediately? + +Mrs. Costello was sitting thoughtfully watching a little disk of glowing +light formed by the opening in the stove door; she took her eyes from it +slowly, and paused so long before answering that Lucia began to doubt +whether she had heard. + +"Yes," she said at last, speaking deliberately, as if she were still +debating the question in her own mind. "I believe we shall be able to +arrange everything here so as to reach New York in time for the Havre +steamer of the 28th. That will be our best way of going." + +"That is, four weeks from to-day?" + +"We may not need so long. But I wish to be at liberty to spend a week at +the island, if, when we get there, I should wish to do so. I am not sure +even about that. It may be more pain than pleasure. And we may trust +ourselves now to say good-bye to our friends here; and if we sail on the +28th, we must leave Cacouna, on the 26th at the latest. The time will +soon pass." + +"Yes, indeed," Lucia answered with a sigh. + +"But, mamma," she went on a minute afterwards. "Why cannot we wait till +spring?" There was a kind of tremble in her voice as she spoke, for she +felt a strange mixture of desire and reluctance for this journey. On one +hand, she wished to reach Europe quickly, because Percy was there, and +because even if they never met again, she believed she should be able to +hear of him, and to satisfy herself that he still thought of her. On the +other, she was really a little afraid of the winter voyage. She had +never even seen the sea, and had a kind of mysterious awe of it. +Stronger, however, than any selfish feeling was a keen anxiety which had +taken possession of her with regard to her mother's health, the +feebleness of which became daily more apparent; so that her double +wishes neutralized each other, and she could scarcely tell whether if +the decision rested with her, it would have been to stay or to go. + +But she wanted to hear her mother's reasons, so she asked-- + +"Why cannot we wait till spring?" + +Mrs. Costello again paused before answering. She, like Lucia, had more +thoughts on the subject than she was willing to express; but she had one +powerful reason for losing no time, which she decided that Lucia ought +to know. + +"Because I am anxious to see my cousin, who is almost our only relation, +and to introduce you to him." + +"But why, mamma? As we cannot go to England what good will it do us just +to see him for a moment?" + +"I cannot go to England, but there is nothing to prevent you from doing +so." + +"Oh, dear, that old idea still! It is quite useless, mamma. You shall +not send me away from you." + +Lucia knelt by her mother's side, and looked up into her face with eyes +full of mingled entreaty and resolution. Mrs. Costello drew her close +within her arm. + +"No, my darling. I have given up that idea altogether. Indeed, there is +no longer any need for it, and I should grudge losing you out of my +sight for a single day now. But, don't you understand that a time may be +coming when we shall have to part, whether we will or no?" + +"Ah! not yet. There is plenty of time to think of that." + +"Perhaps. But I doubt it. At any rate I have less reason than most +people to count on long life." + +Again Lucia looked up. A cold, unspeakable terror filled her heart, and +she tried to read the secret which her mother's calm face hid from her. +Mrs. Costello delayed no longer to tell her all the truth. + +"Many months ago," she said, "I was convinced that the disease of which +my mother died, had attacked me. I suppose there might be some +hereditary predisposition towards it, and too much thought and care +brought it on. I determined not to allow myself any fancies on the +subject. I sent for Doctor Hardy, and contrived to see him several times +during the autumn without letting you suspect anything. He could only +acknowledge that I was right, and tell me to avoid excitement and +fatigue. You know how possible _that_ was. And so this mischief has been +going on fast, and the end may be nearer than even I think it is." + +Her voice faltered at the last words, and Lucia, who had listened to +every one with the feeling that so many knives were being plunged +through and through her heart, slipped down from her resting-place, and +crouched on the floor, hiding her face and stifling the sobs that shook +her whole body. She longed to cry out, to clasp her arms round her +mother, to struggle, with all the force of her great love, against this +fate; and yet, so well had she understood, so clearly she remembered, +even through her agony, the need for quietness, that she kept a force +upon herself like iron, trying to steady the pulses that throbbed so +wildly, with one thought, or rather one impulse, "I must not trouble +_her_." + +Mrs. Costello looked at her child for a moment in silence. Even she did +not yet fully understand the force of that quality which Lucia herself +had once ascribed to her Indian blood, but which, in truth, had little +affinity with common fortitude, for it was simply a conquest of self, +gained without thought or conscious effort, by the greater power of +love. But such contests cannot last long. This was fierce and cruel, but +it ended as love willed. The poor child dragged herself up again to her +mother's knee, and drew the pale, fair face down to her own flushed and +burning one; but one kiss, silent and full of anguish, was all that she +dared venture yet. But she longed to hear more, and presently Mrs. +Costello spoke again, not daring yet to go back to the point of which +they had last spoken, but returning to the subject of their journey. + +"The steamer calls at Southampton," she said. "I intend to write to +George, and tell him the time of our sailing, so that, if he wishes, he +can meet us there. We will go from Havre to Paris, and stay there for +awhile; afterwards, I think we should be more comfortable in a country +town, if we can find one not too inaccessible." + +There was something in this sentence peculiarly reassuring. Lucia +instinctively reasoned that, since her mother could make plans for their +future so far in advance, the danger of which she had just spoken must +be remote. What is remote, we readily believe uncertain; and thus, after +a few minutes of absolute hopelessness, she began to hope again, +tremblingly and fearfully, but still with more ardour than if the +previous alarm had been less complete. + +"Dear mamma," she said, "Doctor Hardy may be very clever, but I am not +going to put any faith in him. When we get to Paris you must have the +very best advice that is to be had, and you will have nothing to do but +take care of yourself." + +"Very well," and Mrs. Costello smiled, reading the hope clearly enough, +though she had not fully read the despair. "And in the meantime you may +hear what I want to say to you about my cousin." + +"Yes, mamma. But you know I don't like him, all the same. I know I +should have hated him just as you did when you were a girl." + +"I hope not. At any rate, you must not hate him now, for I have asked +him to be your guardian, and he has consented." + +Lucia shuddered at that word "guardian," and the thought implied in it, +but she determined to say no more about her prejudice against Mr. +Wynter. + +"You know," Mrs. Costello said, "that it would be much more comfortable +for me to know that you were left in the care of my own people than with +any one else. It will be three years before you are of age. To suppose +that you may need a guardian, therefore, is neither improbable nor +alarming; and my reason for proposing to settle in France is, that you +may be within a short distance of him." + +Lucia could only assent. + +"I shall try," her mother continued, "to persuade him to pay us a visit +there, and to bring his wife, who is a good woman, and I am sure would +be kind to my child. I long very much, Lucia, sometimes, to know that, +though I can never see the dear old home again, you may do so." + +"Have they any children?" Lucia asked, her thoughts dwelling on the +Wynters. + +"They have lost several, George told me. There are three living, and the +eldest, I think, is about your age." + +They had talked themselves quite calm now. The idea of her own death had +only troubled Mrs. Costello with regard to Lucia; and now that she was +in some measure prepared for it, it seemed even less terrible than +before. Lucia, for her part, had put by all consideration of the subject +for the present; to think of it without agonies of distress was +impossible, and at present to agitate herself would be to agitate her +mother--a thing at any cost of after-suffering to be avoided. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Next morning Mrs. Costello and Lucia prepared to return to the Cottage. +They were to remain there till the following evening, and then Mr. +Bellairs proposed to drive them down to the first village below Cacouna +at which the steamboats called, that they might there embark for Moose +Island, instead of being obliged to do so at the Cacouna wharf, where +they were certain to meet inquisitive acquaintances. But a short time +before they were to leave their friends, Doctor Hardy called. + +He asked to see Mrs. Costello, and was taken into the small room where +Mrs. Bellairs usually passed her mornings. No one else was present, and +he told her at once that he had called to ask her assistance in an +affair which he feared would be painful to her. + +She smiled gravely. "I am too grateful to you, doctor," she said, "not +to be pleased that you should have anything to ask." + +"I don't know," he went on, "whether Mr. Bellairs has told you the +details of Clarkson's death--I mean as to what appeared to influence him +in making his confession?" + +"No," she answered, rather wondering what this could have to do with +her. + +"I think," the doctor proceeded, "that for all his brutality in other +respects, Clarkson was a good husband, and as fond of his wife and +children as if he had been a model of virtue. At all events, his last +thought was of his wife; and I rashly promised to see that she did not +suffer on his account. But I can't keep my promise without help." + +He paused, not at all sure how Mrs. Costello might feel on the subject; +and whether all that she and her husband had suffered might have +completely embittered her towards the whole family of the murderer. + +"Certainly," she answered, "it would be very hard to punish the innocent +for the guilty; and I have heard nothing but good of Mrs. Clarkson." + +The doctor felt relieved. + +"I believe there is nothing but good that could be told of her," he said +warmly. "I have known something of her for a long time, and there is not +a more decent, respectable woman in the township. It is a mystery how +she ever married that wretched fellow; but after she had married him she +was a good wife, and did what little she could to keep him out of +mischief. What is strangest of all, however, is, that she is almost +heart broken, poor soul, not for his wickedness, but for his death." + +"Poor thing! But the circumstances of his death must have made it more +horrible to her?" + +"It is a mercy that she does not seem to have understood that. She is +very ill, and seems not to have had time to think yet--except that she +has a vague idea that her children will starve." + +"They shall not do that. You shall tell me what to do for them--that is +my affair." + +"Thank you. I thought you would feel for her. But the plan I have in my +mind depends chiefly on Mrs. Morton, and I feel that it is asking a +great deal to expect _her_ to do anything." + +"It is indeed. I should be almost afraid to speak to her on the +subject." + +"If she had had her way, I imagine, matters would never have been so bad +between Doctor Morton and Clarkson. I know she was inclined to be +indulgent--perhaps too indulgent--when this poor woman came to her about +their rent." + +"She is very kind hearted. But after her goodness has been so cruelly +abused, how can one expect her now to be even just? But, indeed, you +have not yet told me what you wish her to do?" + +"I should like to get permission for the widow and children to stay +where they are through the winter. The poor woman is very ill; she had a +baby born yesterday morning, which is, happily, not likely to live, and +at present, I believe, it is just the thought of her children that keeps +her alive. She can't at the best be moved for some weeks, and I think if +Mrs. Morton could know how she is really situated, she could not help +wishing to spare her more trouble." + +"I dare say you are right, and that you do Mrs. Morton more justice +than I do. But Lucia might be able to help us; do you mind taking her +into our councils?" + +"Quite the contrary; pray consult her." + +Mrs. Costello opened the drawing-room door and called Lucia. Then she +explained to her shortly the doctor's wishes, and asked whether Bella +had ever alluded in their conversations to Mrs. Clarkson. + +"Yes; two or three times," Lucia answered. "She heard somehow yesterday +that she was ill, and told me. She is very sorry for her, and I think +she would be glad to do anything she can." + +"Thank you, Miss Costello; you will help me, I see," cried Doctor Hardy, +delighted. + +Mrs. Costello smiled, "You had better leave it in Lucia's hands, +doctor," she said. "But tell me first whether there is anything in +particular that we can do? Is Mrs. Clarkson too ill to see any one?" + +"That depends very much upon who it is. Anybody who could relieve her +mind about those unfortunate children of hers would do her good." + +"Perhaps I may go over then, if we have good news for her." + +The doctor said good-morning, and went away, tolerably satisfied that +his promise to the dying man would be fulfilled without further trouble +on his part. + +"When women take up a thing of that sort," he meditated, "they seldom do +it by halves. Now I would venture to bet something handsome that all +these three, who have cause, if ever women had, to hate the very name of +Clarkson, will be just as kind and pitiful to that poor thing as if she +were the only sufferer among them. _She's_ all right, if we can but get +her on her legs again." + +This opinion was not altogether a mistaken one. Lucia went immediately +to Bella and told her simply that Doctor Hardy was much concerned about +Mrs. Clarkson, and that she herself was going to Beaver Creek to see +what could best be done for the poor woman and her family. A quiver +passed over Mrs. Morton's face. She could not yet quite free herself +from the impulse of revenge which would have held her back from help and +pity; she had the natural feeling which Mrs. Costello had half +unconsciously imputed to her, that she ought to be the last to console +the widow and children of the murderer; such feelings, however had but +a momentary power over her; the idea which was most at home in her mind +and took root to the extinction of the others, was just the simple +womanly one that there was somebody in deep trouble whom she could help. +She said shortly and without any exclamations or questions, "I will go +with you; Elise wants Bob to take your mamma home, and it will take us +too long to walk, so I will send down to Lane's at once for a sleigh. +Tell Mrs. Costello, Lucia, and then get ready." + +There was nothing for anybody to say against Bella's going. She had +always been decided and independent in her doings, and since her +widowhood nobody thought of advising or persuading her. Mrs. Bellairs +looked grave when she heard of this expedition, and took an opportunity +of begging Lucia, to try to prevent any exciting scene, and to insist +upon coming home again immediately; but even she said nothing to her +sister. + +The two sleighs came to the door at the same time, and as Mrs. Costello +and Mrs. Bellairs drove off towards the cottage, Bella and Lucia started +in the opposite direction. They had not much to say to each other on the +way; and both, as they passed the fatal spot where the murder had been +committed affected to be occupied with their own thoughts, that they +might neither meet each other's eyes nor seem to remember where they +were. They soon began to pass along the white and scarcely-trodden track +which ran beside the creek. All was silent and desolate. The water, +almost black by contrast with the snow, washed against the bank with a +dull monotonous sound just audible; the fishing-hut had been transformed +into a great heap of snow, and the branches, heavily laden, hung quite +motionless under the cold grey sky. Not a sign of life appeared till +they came in sight of the log-house and the light curl of smoke from its +chimney. Neither had seen the place before--to Lucia, indeed, it had +possessed no interest till the events of the last month or two, and she +looked out with the sort of shuddering curiosity which is naturally +excited by the place where we know a great crime to have been hidden in +the daily life of the inhabitants. But Bella remembered many small +incidents connected with this fatal property of hers--and if a wish +could have brought those dark sullen waters to cover the whole farm and +hide it out of sight and memory, they would have risen that moment. Yet, +after all, the unchangeable fact of _her_ suffering and sorrow was no +reason for others suffering; she put aside for the present all the pangs +of personal feeling, and prepared to go into the house with a face and +manner fit for her mission. + +When they reached it, all was so very still inside that they hesitated +to knock; and while they paused, the woman who had undertaken the office +of nurse, and who had seen the sleigh arrive, softly opened the door and +admitted them. She pointed to the bed to show them that her patient was +asleep; and they sat down to wait for her waking. The house contained +but one room, with a small lean-to which served the purpose of a back +kitchen, and made it possible for the other apartment to have that look +of almost dainty cleanliness and order which the visitors noticed. No +attempt had ever been made to hide the logs, of which the walls were +built. A line of plaster between each kept out the wind, and gave a +curious striped appearance to the inside. The floor was of boards, +unplaned, but white as snow, and partly covered by a rag carpet. In the +middle of the room stood the stove, and a small table near it. An +old-fashioned chest of drawers of polished oak, a dresser of pine wood +and some rush-seated chairs had their places against the walls; but in +the further corner stood the chief piece of furniture, and the one which +drew the attention of the visitors with the most powerful attraction. It +was a large clumsy four-post bedstead, hung with blue and white homespun +curtains, and covered with a gay patchwork quilt. The curtains on both +sides were drawn back, and the face and figure of the sleeper were in +full view. She lay as if under the influence of a narcotic, so still +that her breathing could scarcely be distinguished. Two or three days of +intense suffering had given her the blanched shrunken look which +generally comes from long illness; her face, comely and bright in +health, was sunk and pallid, with black marks below the closed eyes; one +hand stretched over the covers, held all through her sleep that of a +little girl, her eldest child, who was half kneeling on a chair, half +lying across the bed, with her head resting on the pillow. At the foot +of the bed stood a wooden cradle--the covering disarranged and partly +fallen on the floor, while the poor little baby, wrapped in an old +blanket, lay in the nurse's arms, and now and then feebly cried, or +rather moaned, as if it were almost too weak to make its complaint +heard. A boy of about six sat in a low seat silently busy with a knife +and a piece of wood; and a younger girl, tired of the sadness and +constraint around, had climbed upon a chair, and resting one arm on the +dresser, laid her round rosy cheek on it, and fallen asleep. + +Mrs. Morton and Lucia were both strangers to the nurse. She merely +understood that they had come with some kind intentions towards her +charge, and when she had put chairs for them near the stove and seen +them sit down to wait, she returned to her occupation of rocking and +soothing the poor little mite she held in her arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +At last there was a movement, and a faint sigh as the sleeper awoke. +Bella, by a kind of instinctive movement, rose, and holding out her +arms, took the baby that the nurse might be at liberty to attend to the +mother. It was a strange moment. The little creature had ceased moaning, +and lay quite tranquil, its tiny face looking whiter and more wax-like +under the shadow of the heavy crape veil which hung partly over it. It +even seemed to nestle closer to the heart through which its touch sent +so keen a stab of pain, and the young widow bent low over it as her eyes +were blinded for an instant by a vision of what might have been. What +might have been! The happiness she had just begun to taste, the hope +that would have made her future bright, had been crushed together by +this child's father--yet the frail little creature lay tenderly cradled +in her arms. She looked at it; she touched the soft cheek with her cold +and trembling lips; she seemed by her own will to press the sting +through and through her heart; and as she did so, she saw and accepted +her part in life--to have henceforth no individual existence, but to +fill her solitary days with thoughts of charity, and to draw from the +recollection of her own anguish the means of consolation for the griefs +of others. + +Lucia turned away. She guessed something, though but little, of her +friend's thoughts, and moved towards the bed, to be ready to speak to +Mrs. Clarkson. The little girl, released by her mother's waking, slipped +down, and joined her brother, and Lucia, seeing herself perceived, went +round to the place she had occupied. + +"I do not know whether you know me, Mrs. Clarkson," she said. "I am +Lucia Costello. Doctor Hardy told my mother of your illness, and she +sent me to see whether we cannot be of some use to you or the little +ones." + +Lucia had puzzled beforehand over what she should say, but finally her +little speech was just what happened to come into her head at the +moment. However, it made small difference, since the speech and the +manner were both kind, and kindness was the first thing needed. + +Mrs. Clarkson looked at her with a mixed expression of gratitude and +eagerness. + +"It's not for me, miss," she said earnestly, "but for the poor little +ones. I used to be a good one to work, but, you see, I can't work for +'em now--not at present." + +And tears of extreme weakness filled her eyes. + +Lucia laid her hand softly on the thin fingers that lay nervously +catching at the edge of the sheet. + +"Don't be the least afraid about them," she answered. "Mamma and the +doctor will see that they are taken care of; only we thought you would +be glad to know that people were thinking about them. There is another +visitor here who can do you more good than I can--Mrs. Morton." + +Lucia moved aside, and Bella took her place. Mrs. Clarkson looked up +anxiously, with her whole desire written on her pale face, and was +answered at once, + +"You must make haste and get well," Bella said with a smile. "As soon as +you are able, I want to talk to you about business. You will have to +manage all the improvements I am going to make." + +"Me? But you don't mean to let us stay?" + +"Indeed I do." + +The poor woman tried to cover her eyes with her thin hand, but had not +strength. She whispered, "Thank God," as the heavy drops rolled from +under her quivering eyelids. + +"I am going away directly," Bella said, "because you ought to rest; but +I want you to understand first, that I have not the least intention of +disturbing you in your house. We have both paid dearly enough for our +connection. It shall rest now without any further dispute. I will come +again and see you. About money, it will be quite time enough to think +when you are better. Try to keep free from anxiety for these little +ones' sakes." + +She was still holding the baby, soothing it with a gentle rocking +motion; and so she moved round again from the bedside and stood by the +stove. The child seemed to be asleep, and, reluctant to disturb it, she +still delayed giving it up, though it was time to go away. The nurse had +lingered for a moment tending the mother; then she came and stood ready +to take the child. Both were looking down on the pale little face, when +they saw it suddenly change. All at once the eyes opened wide, the +muscles were drawn and contracted, a line of foam started out between +the lips. One violent convulsion passed over the limbs, then they fell +loose and nerveless; the eyes closed, the lips parted--the life, +scarcely twenty-four hours old, had passed away. + +So sudden, so strange was the event--the almost instantaneous gliding +from life to death--that Bella had not altered her position, or loosened +her clasp when the final change, so awful and yet so beautiful, settled +down upon the baby's face. Then she put it into the nurse's arms, and +they looked at one another. They dared not speak, for the mother would +have heard them, and their consultation how to tell her must needs be a +speechless one; but what consultation could have altered the fact, or +softened the awe and terror with which they bent over that little +lifeless form? Lucia came from the low chair where the two elder +children sat together, and where she had been talking softly to them; +she came to Bella's side, and saw the truth. It was but by a gesture +that her cry of horror could be repressed, but it was repressed, and for +a minute the three paused irresolute and tearful, wondering what to do? + +Then the nurse said softly, + +"She's got to know it, poor soul! It's best tell her at once," and +stepped to the bedside. + +But there was no need to tell anything. With that strange quick +intuition which so often saves the actual speaking of such tidings, the +mother seemed to see what had happened. + +"He's gone?" she said, with a weak quivering voice. "My baby!" And her +eyes seemed to devour the still little form which she had not strength +to put out her hand to touch. The kind woman laid down the child for a +moment where the mother's lips could touch its cold cheek. + +"Don't fret," she said, while tears rolled down her own face; "there's +three on 'em yet, as wants their mother to take care on 'em." + +She seemed to have touched with instinctive skill the right chord for +consolation. Mrs. Clarkson spoke again after a minute with a steadier +and calmer voice, + +"You'll lay him by me now?" she said. "It can't wake him out of his +sleep, and I'd like to see him till the last. Is Mrs. Morton there +still?" + +Bella came to her. + +"Did you see him go?" she asked. "I was very thankful to you before, but +I am more now, because you came just in time. Don't you think the little +ones that never spoke in this world will be able to speak up there?" + +"Yes, I think so," Bella answered, fancying that her mind began to +wander. + +"And so you see my man is sure to ask what we were all doing, and the +little one would be able to tell him how good you'd been to us." + +She stopped; tears flowed softly, but she was too weak for violent +grief; and so the two girls left her, after having given the nurse money +for present use, and learned what comforts were most needed. + +On their return they did not stop at all in Cacouna, but drove straight +to the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs was still there, and sent word to her +sister by Margery to dismiss the sleigh and come in, that they might +return home together. They found the two ladies sitting "conferring by +the parlour fire," and eager to hear the result of their visit to Beaver +Creek. Lucia saw that the narration must come from her; for Bella, worn +out by the painful excitement of the morning, was incapable of +describing what had so greatly moved her, and could scarcely bear even +to hear the baby's death spoken of as a thing not to be regretted. + +"Poor little creature!" Mrs. Bellairs said. "Even the mother by-and-by +may be glad it is gone." + +"Elise!" Bella cried impatiently, "how can you be so cruel? And you are +a mother yourself!" + +"You forget, dear, what a fate those children have; and yet, since you +feel so pitifully towards them, it certainly does not become me to be +less charitable;" and the kind-hearted woman wiped furtively the tears +of genuine compassion which she had been shedding over the sorrows of +the Clarksons, and never thought of defending herself from her sister's +blame; though, to tell the truth, she had not in her whole nature a +single spark of cruelty or uncharitableness, and that Bella knew +perfectly well. + +Lucia went on to mention the things really needed by the squatter's +family. Mrs. Costello turned to Bella, + +"Do you really mean," she asked, "to keep them on the farm after this +winter?" + +"Yes. I certainly shall not allow them to be turned out as long as they +like to stay. I am going to have the land cleared and put under +cultivation. I suppose it will be necessary to have a kind of foreman or +manager of some sort there; and it has occurred to me that Mrs. Clarkson +might take him as a lodger. But before that can be done, the house would +have to be enlarged and several alterations made. I must consult William +about it." + +Both Mrs. Costello and Mrs. Bellairs were surprised to hear the young +widow speaking with so much of her old spirit and decision. The fact was +that the consciousness that there was something to be done for others +had made Bella aware that, in spite of her aching heart, she was still +able to do what duties remained to her; and without hesitation, or, +indeed, any thought about the matter, she was prepared to take upon +herself the management of her own affairs, and to change her +brother-in-law's position from that of guardian, resumed since her +widowhood, to that of adviser only. In the very depths of her misery she +had passed her twenty-first birthday, so that now she would have had in +any case the right of acting for herself. It was the very time to which, +not many months ago, Mr. Bellairs had looked forward with some anxiety, +and which he had thought so well provided for by her marriage; now, in +the utter change which had come both to her circumstances and feelings, +there was little reason why even the most careful guardian should feel +any reluctance to resign his office. But since her widowhood she had so +visibly shrunk from all mention of her property, and especially of that +part of it which had been the cause of her husband's dispute with his +murderer, that her friends naturally wondered now to hear her speak of +the management of those very lands in a way which showed that the +subject had actually occupied her thoughts. + +"I promised Dr. Hardy," Mrs. Costello said, "that the care of providing +for the children should be mine. Indeed, I feel bound to do something. I +think until they are old enough to be of some use to their mother, it +would be well to give her a little allowance for their schooling and +clothes; but I shall be away. Will you manage this for me?" + +It was so arranged. Mrs. Costello was to leave a certain sum in Mrs. +Morton's hands, to be paid monthly to Mrs. Clarkson for the benefit of +her children; and, this being settled, the little party had time to turn +their thoughts to subjects of more personal interest. They would not +meet again until the Costellos returned from Moose Island, which would +probably not be for a week at least. The messenger who had carried to +Mr. Strafford the news of Christian's death had returned, and brought a +letter which only confirmed Mrs. Costello's plans--she and Lucia were to +be, for as long a time as they could spare, the guests of their old +friend, and Christian was to be laid in the burial ground where so many +of his own people already slept. + +At last the two sisters left the Cottage, and once more Mrs. Costello +and Lucia remained alone in the familiar room. How much seemed to have +happened since they were last alone here! and, through great suffering, +how much good seemed to have been wrought! The little home seemed +pleasanter than ever, and for a moment Mrs. Costello asked herself if it +was really necessary that they should leave it? But clearly, if not +_necessary_, it was best. It was best, probably, that Lucia and Maurice +should not meet again, and certainly that Lucia should be placed within +reach of her future guardians. But Mrs. Costello sighed over her plan. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mr. Bellairs came, according to his promise, and drove Mrs. Costello and +Lucia to Fairfield, where they were to take the boat for Moose Island. +It was a distance of about five miles; and as they glided along rapidly +and smoothly, Lucia remembered with a sigh that this was probably the +last sleigh drive of any length that she would have before leaving +Canada. Perhaps it was not right, considering what the object of their +present journey was, that she should be at liberty to have any such +thoughts; it might have been more decorous if she had been absorbed by +the grave and sombre ideas which the occasion demanded; but Lucia was at +heart too frank and natural to try to force upon herself the +affectation of a grief she did not feel. It had come into her heart, +while Christian was slowly wearing out the last days of his unhappy +life, to care for him as her father, to be deeply sorry for him, and to +desire to comfort him; but now that his sufferings were over, she +honestly thought that there was no further reason for grieving on his +account. She was sad, however, for very simple and childish reasons; and +this idea that it was her last sleigh drive actually brought tears into +her eyes. Everything was so lovely! The road along which they passed lay +like a broad white line between the dark woods and the river. The sun, +setting over the opposite shore, brought out millions of sparkling +points brighter than diamonds on the surface of the snow, and the +gorgeous colours of the sky, deeper and more vivid even than in summer, +filled her heart with an inexpressible and ever-changing delight. That +wonderful union of spotless purity and glorious colour seemed almost +supernatural--as if it needed but for men's eyes to be opened that they +might see plainly the city of "pure gold like unto clear glass" which +stood upon those many-hued foundations, and the forms with garments +white as snow which might come down and walk unsullied over the +white-robed earth. But to see all this loveliness for the last time! To +enjoy for the last time this luxury of nestling down among the sleigh +robes, and being carried silently and swiftly forward, with nothing to +disturb the dreamy, fanciful mood of the moment! She was actually +crying, letting large heavy tears drop quietly down upon her +furs--crying with the first premonitory attack of homesickness--when the +village came in sight, and she had to rouse herself and dry her eyes, +lest her mother should turn round and see her. + +By-and-by they turned down the road to the steamboat wharf, and found +themselves among a little group of people. The boats only stopped here +when they were signalled to do so; but to-night there happened to be +other passengers going, and Mr. Bellairs advised Mrs. Costello to remain +in the sleigh till the 'Reindeer,' which was just in sight, should +arrive. They sat still, accordingly, while he stood beside them talking; +and when the boat had stopped at the landing, they went on board and +straight down to the ladies' cabin. It was by this time growing dusk; in +the low cabin, with its small windows, there was but a faint glimmer of +daylight remaining, and as soon as the boat was again under way, the +hanging lamps were lighted and people who had till then lingered on deck +began to come down by twos and threes. Mrs. Costello and Lucia took +possession of a sofa; their voyage was to end about ten o'clock, and for +the few hours it would last they were disposed to keep quiet and avoid +observation. It happened that the number of passengers was large, the +last boat having been detained at some of the Lake ports, and the +continuance of navigation at that time of year being so uncertain; and +the greater part of the women on board having come from places much +further west than Cacouna, formed a crowd of strangers, among whom two +veiled and muffled figures easily passed unnoticed. + +The cabin had grown very quiet, and the dull monotonous noise of the +paddles had lulled Lucia almost to sleep, when she was startled by the +touch of her mother's hand upon her arm. + +"It is very nearly time we were there," Mrs. Costello said. "If it is a +fine night we ought to be able to see the island." + +They drew their cloaks closely round them and went up on deck. The night +was brilliantly clear and starlight, though there was no moon, and +already the lights of the small American town of Claremont, where they +were to land, were in sight, with their bright reflection shining in the +river below them. To the left a large dark mass seemed to lie upon the +water, and to that Mrs. Costello's eyes turned. + +"There is the island," she said in a low voice. "Your birthplace, Lucia, +and my first Canadian home." + +But in vain Lucia strained her eyes to distinguish the size or form of +the land. The end of the island which they were approaching was still +thickly wooded, and the drooping branches added still more vagueness to +the outline. Only as they came nearer a small clearing was dimly +distinguishable, where a kind of promontory ran out into the river, and +on the point of land a small white house. + +Mrs. Costello laid her hand upon Lucia's. + +"Look!" she said, "can you see that space where the house stands? What a +lonely place it looks! I wonder how I lived there for six years. I can +see even the place where the canoe used to lie on the beach. There is +one there now!" She stood straining her eyes to watch the scene once so +familiar, until the steamer, drawing towards the landing-place, +completely hid it from her. Then the lights on shore flashed out more +brightly close at hand, and the figures of men waiting on the wharf +could be distinguished. Just as the cable was thrown on shore a boat +came flying across the river from the island. It drew up to the wharf, +and next moment Mr. Strafford was seen coming through the little crowd +to receive his visitors. They landed immediately, and he led them to his +boat. + +"You remember this crossing?" he said to Mrs. Costello; "it was by this +way that you left the island." + +"With my baby in my arms. Yes; I am not likely to forget it." + +They took their places in the boat, where an Indian boy was waiting. Mr. +Strafford took an oar, and they glided out of the light and noise of the +shore into the starry darkness. + +Very few words passed as they crossed the river. Mrs. Costello's mind +was full of thoughts of her life here, and Lucia looked forward with +wondering curiosity to the sight of an Indian settlement. She was +conscious, too, that the feeling of terror and dislike, which for so +many years of her life had been always awakened by the sight of one of +her father's people, was not even now altogether extinguished. Since she +had known her own origin she had tried to get rid of this prejudice more +earnestly than before, but the habit was so strong that she had not yet +quite mastered it. She sat and watched the shadowy outline of the Indian +boy's figure in the boat, and lectured herself a little on the folly and +even wickedness of her sensations. + +They had to pass round the lower end of the island, where the village +lay, in order to reach Mr. Strafford's house; but the lights were all +extinguished, and the inhabitants already asleep. They coasted along, +passing a little wooden pier, and some fishing-boats and canoes lying +moored beside the beach, and at last came to a boarded landing-place +with a small boat-house at one end. Here they stopped, and Mr. Strafford +bidding his boy run up to the door and knock, assisted the strangers to +land. They were scarcely out of the boat when a bright gleam of +lamplight flashing from the open door showed them a sloping path, up +which they went, and found themselves in a bright warm room, all glowing +with lamplight and firelight. A very neat little old woman in a +Quaker-like cap and dress was ready to welcome them, and in front of +the great blazing fire a table stood ready for supper. The old woman Mr. +Strafford introduced as his housekeeper, Mrs. Hall, and Mrs. Costello +recognized her as her own successor in the charge of that school for +Indian women and girls of which she had told Lucia. + +The room in which supper was laid, and into which the outer door opened, +was large and square. At each end two smaller ones opened off it--on one +side Mr. Strafford's study and bedroom, at the other Mrs. Hall's room +and the one which had been prepared for the guests. Here also a fire +burned brightly on the hearth, shining on the white walls and on the bed +where, years ago, Mrs. Costello had watched her baby through its first +illness. She sat down for a moment to recall that time, and to recognize +bit by bit the familiar aspect of the place; then she made haste to lay +aside her wrappings and get ready for supper. + +It was quite ready by this time--the most luxurious meal Mrs. Hall's +resources could provide. There was coffee--not to be praised in itself, +but hot, and accompanied by an abundance of cream. There were venison +steaks, and a great pile of buckwheat cakes that moment taken from the +fire, with a glass dish of clear golden maple syrup placed beside them, +and expressly intended for Lucia's benefit. Altogether not a meal to be +despised. + +When supper was over, and Mrs. Hall had left them, Mr. Strafford began +to ask Mrs. Costello for particulars of the arrangements made for the +removal of Christian's remains, and when they would probably arrive at +the island. + +Mr. Bellairs had had some difficulty, she told him, in finding means of +transport, but the matter had been finally settled by his engaging a +sailing-boat belonging to a fisherman. The coffin had been put on board +early in the morning, and the boat started at once. It ought, therefore, +to reach the island early to-morrow. + +"All here is ready," Mr. Strafford said. "I suppose three o'clock in the +afternoon will do to fix for the funeral; the boat is sure to be here +long before that." + +"Oh! yes, long before. Do the people know?" + +"Yes, I suppose most of them do. There are not very many who remember +you, but Mary Wanita will be here in the morning to see you. Shall you +dislike it?" + +"On the contrary, I shall be very glad. Mary was a true friend." + +They talked a little longer, sitting round the fire, when the great logs +began to break through in the middle and fall down on the hearth outside +the andirons, sending up clouds of sparks as they were put back into the +fire. The night was very still; and in the pauses of their talk they +could hear the mournful wash of the river as its steady current pressed +against the landing-place below. To the two elder people, who said +nothing to each other of their fancy, another presence, shadowy and +silent, seemed to take its place among them at the fireside--a fair, +serene presence, matronly and gracious, which had passed away from human +eyes years ago. And they paused and thought of her as she had been that +winter night when she took the fugitive mother and child into her kindly +home, and gave them all her womanly pity and help. What lonely years had +passed here since then! + +By some instinctive sympathy their eyes met, and each knew what the +other's thoughts had been. Mr. Strafford rose. + +"To-morrow," he said, "we shall have time for a long chat; to-night you +must be tired. I hope Mrs. Hall has done what she could to make you +comfortable." + +There could be no doubt about that. For two or three days nothing had +occupied the good woman's thoughts but this strange and wonderful +arrival of strangers--of ladies, too--at the house where so few +strangers ever came; and she had exerted all her backwoods' ingenuity to +repair what deficiency of comfort there might be. + +They were in no humour either to be critical; and Lucia was soon asleep, +while her mother lay listening to the sound of the river, and thinking +of the many things which this very room brought so freshly to her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +It was late when Mrs. Costello fell asleep, and very early when she +woke, startled out of her dreams by a long wailing sound. She listened, +and in the dark winter morning could hear the wind sweeping through the +pines and round the house with loud intermittent gusts, like moans and +outcries of pain. The moments of silence between these gusts had +something weird and awful, and she could not resist the desire to get up +and look out at the weather. But just as she drew aside the blind, a +cloud of frozen snow was dashed against the glass, rattling sharply, +while the wind again passed on with its ominous wail. Nothing whatever +could be seen; the pale dim dawn was veiled by mist and snow, and each +time the icy particles were driven against the window, they left behind +them a thicker curtain of frost. Mrs. Costello went shivering back to +bed, but she did not sleep again. She began to consider anxiously how +far the boat that was carrying her dead could have come before the storm +commenced. At midnight it had been quite calm, probably indeed till four +or five o'clock; and if the sailors had foreseen the change, they would +most likely have made all possible speed. If they did so, the wind and +current both being in their favour, they ought to be here now; but if, +as was quite equally likely, they had stopped last night at some port, +would they venture out in this storm? + +She began to regret that she had not caused the body to be sent by land, +so as to have only to cross the narrow current which divided the island +from the Canadian shore. She had decided against this plan on account of +the greater distance and the difficulty of transport, but now these +seemed less formidable than the uncertainty and possible danger of the +route she had chosen. + +She was glad when Lucia awoke, and she could speak of her uneasiness. By +this time the wind had grown more violent, and blew continuously, and +the rattling of snow like frozen dust against the window seemed never +to cease. A dim daylight had begun to creep into the room, but it was +even colder and more cheerless than the darkness. Presently a young +Indian girl, whom Mrs. Hall had trained for service, came softly into +the room and began to coax the still burning embers of the fire into a +blaze. She went about her work with a silent deftness which would have +done credit to the best of housemaids, and yet in all her motions there +was something of that free natural grace which belongs to her people. +When she had done, and was standing for a moment to see if the fire +'drew' properly, Mrs. Costello spoke to her. She understood no English, +however, or at least she understood none addressed to her by a strange +voice, and said so in her own soft musical language. When the question +was repeated in Ojibway, however, her face brightened, and she was +perfectly ready to answer all Mrs. Costello chose to ask. + +She said the weather had only changed towards six o'clock. No boat, +however, had arrived, but it might be on the other side of the island, +where the passage was broader and safer than on this, the Canadian +side. + +As soon as she was gone the two women, anxious and uneasy, rose and +dressed that they might be ready. Ready for what they scarcely knew; but +they had the feeling common enough when nothing can possibly be done, +that it would be a comfort to be prepared to do something. + +They found Mrs. Hall superintending the laying of the breakfast-table, +and Mr. Strafford hearing their voices came out of his study and joined +them. He had not the least inclination to sympathise with the fears in +which Mrs. Costello was a little disposed to indulge, with regard to the +safety of the boat; but he confessed a doubt as to its arrival before +the hour named, or indeed that day at all. This uncertainty threw a +shadow over the whole party. It was impossible to avoid making pauses in +their conversation whenever the wind seemed either to rise more +fiercely, or to be lulled into a momentary calm; and after breakfast was +over, and Mrs. Hall in cloak and hood had started for her school, they +began to make frequent journeys to the windows, and interrupt their talk +to say to each other, + +"There is less drift, I think." + +"Yes; certainly it is clearer. I can see the water." Or, + +"The wind is surely higher than ever, and it will be against them." + +"On the contrary, it is almost directly favourable, but the question is +whether they would venture out at all in such a storm." + +At last, however, towards twelve o'clock the wind did unmistakably begin +to abate. Mr. Strafford had been out, and on his return affirmed that +the storm was almost over. It might return again towards night, but if +the boatmen knew their business, they should be able to take advantage +of the next few hours and reach the island while the calm lasted. + +"There is no sign of their arrival at present then?" Mrs. Costello asked +anxiously. + +"I have not been round the island," Mr. Strafford answered. "No one +seems to have seen anything of a boat at all. However, they would need +to be close in shore to be distinguishable through the drift." + +"But it seems that there is very little chance of their being here by +three o'clock. Would not it be better to decide that in any case the +funeral will not be till to-morrow?" + +"I think it would. I intend going by-and-by up the island, and will +take care to arrange that first, and also about the reception of the +boat when it does arrive." + +Mrs. Costello looked up anxiously. + +"Are you going quite to the other end of the island?" she asked. + +"Yes; to your old house. The woman who lives there is very ill, and, you +know, I am doctor and parson both in one." + +"Will you take me with you?" + +"You! Impossible! You would be frozen to death." + +"It would not hurt me; and I confess I have so little control of myself +to-day that sitting here quietly by the fire is just the hardest thing I +could have to do." + +Mr. Strafford examined her face, and perceived that she had really grown +painfully nervous and excited. He turned to Lucia. + +"What do you think?" he asked. "Ought I to say yes or no?" + +"Say yes, please, and let me go too." + +"But, my dear friends, what good can you possibly do? If the drift and +mist clear away, you may be able to see a little way up the river, but +your doing so will not bring the boat one bit faster." + +"That is true; but it may end our uncertainty a little sooner." + +"I doubt even that. One cannot calculate on having more than an hour or +two of clear daylight between the subsiding of the storm and sunset; and +even if it were possible for you to stand watching all that time, I do +not believe the boat would come while there was daylight enough to see +it." + +"Who is the sick woman? Did I ever know her?" + +"No; she came to the island after you left." + +"Don't you think she would let us sit for a while in her outer room? It +has a window looking right up the river, and she, I suppose, is in the +inner one, so that we need not disturb her." + +"You seem to have decided," Mr. Strafford said, smiling, "so I give up. +Yes, poor Martha has not been out of the inner room for weeks, and you +can sit by the window you speak of as long as you please. I am sure you +will be welcome; only, remember I do not approve of your going at all." + +However, they remained obstinate. As soon as dinner was over they +wrapped themselves warmly, and started with Mr. Strafford for the house +on the promontory. Mrs. Costello felt her heart beat faster and faster +as they followed the well-remembered paths, which, now that a veil of +snow covered all the improvements made under Mr. Strafford's teaching, +seemed quite unchanged since she traversed them last. She recalled the +sensations of that night, the bitter cold, and clear starlight round +her, and the tumult of fear, anger, and hope within. To-day what a +difference! Then she was flying from her husband's tyranny, now she was +going to meet his corpse, and to receive it with tenderness and honour. +Her heart was too full for her to speak. Her companions guessed it, and +left her in peace. + +Mr. Strafford had a thousand things to explain and describe to Lucia. +The island was his kingdom; its prosperity his own work; and it was one +of his greatest pleasures to find a stranger who was interested in all +he could tell him. This young girl, too, whom he had known from her +birth, whom he had seen so many times in his wife's arms, who had been +the baby-playfellow of his daughter, had a claim, stronger than she +herself could understand, on the solitary and childless man. He would +have liked to keep her with him always, and see her devote her life, as +he had devoted his, to the cause of her father's people. Her frank and +yet modest manner, joined to what he knew of her conduct lately, pleased +and satisfied him. He took a certain speculative delight in examining +her character, and deciding that, after all, the union of the Indian and +Anglo-Saxon races would be favourable to both. Talking, therefore, in +the most friendly humour with each other, they pursued their way through +the loose and uneven snow, sometimes stumbling into a deep drift, +sometimes crossing a space swept almost bare by the wind. Mrs. Costello +leaned on her old friend's arm. Scarcely half the distance was passed +when she began to be conscious of a feeling of exhaustion from cold and +fatigue, but her determination to go on sustained her; she kept her veil +closely over her face that the others might not see her paleness, and +exerted all her energies to overcome her fatigue. At length they +approached the shore. The sky had lightened considerably, and they could +see some distance up the river. Both sky and water were of a leaden +dulness; only the effects of the morning storm could be seen in the +great waves, tipped with foam, which still rolled sullenly upon the +beach. But there was no sail in sight. A small canoe, which was +labouring to make its way from the island to the American shore, was the +only speck upon the broad, swift-flowing stream; and the party, after +pausing for a moment to make quite certain that it was so, turned +towards the house on the point, where they meant to keep their watch. + +They had been seen from within; and as they came to the gate of the +small enclosure in front, a little girl opened the door to admit them. +They passed immediately into the room where, on the evening of her +flight, Mrs. Costello had found Christian and his companions. Its aspect +was very little changed. The house and furniture, such as it was, had +been sold years ago to its present occupants; Mr. Strafford had rescued +such small articles as the fugitive wife's desk, workbox, and various +trifles which had been in her possession before her marriage, but other +things remained just as they had been. Two children, girls of ten and +twelve, were the only occupants of the room, and they cast curious +glances at the two ladies who followed the clergyman into their domains. + +He spoke to them in Ojibway, asking first for their mother, and then +why the younger sister was not at school? + +"It was so stormy this morning," the elder answered. "She is going this +afternoon." + +"It is quite time she was gone, then. These ladies will stay with you, +Sunflower, while I go in to see your mother. Tell her I am here." + +"Sunflower"--always thus called instead of by her baptismal name of +Julia--obeyed; and while she was away, Mr. Strafford placed a chair for +Mrs. Costello in front of a window which commanded the long reach of the +river towards Cacouna. She sat down, and commenced her watch, which a +glance at the American clock hanging on the wall told her would not be a +very long one. + +The younger girl had wrapped herself in a great shawl, and hurried off +to school; the elder one was occupied at the further end of the room, +making bread of Indian meal, and baking it in thin cakes upon the stove. +Mr. Strafford was with the invalid, and the mother and daughter sat +silently at the window and watched. The afternoon advanced. The American +clock struck one quarter after another. It was already half-past four. +Mr. Strafford came back; but, seeing the absorbed attitude of Mrs. +Costello, he would not disturb her, and the silence continued. At last +she moved. She had been looking, with intense eagerness, at one point +far away in the distance. She turned round to Mr. Strafford. + +"Look!" she said; "it _is_ a sail." + +He rose, and looked as she pointed. + +"I see nothing," he answered. + +"Lucia!" she said impatiently, "can't you see it?" + +But Lucia shook her head. She had fancied several times already that she +saw something. + +Mrs. Costello said no more just then. A minute or two afterwards, +however, she spoke still more positively. + +"It is a boat with two sails. It is coming down quickly now. They must +have waited for the storm to be over." + +Next moment the others saw something faintly marked against the horizon. +It _was_ a sail. + +But Mrs. Costello either was gifted with longer sight, or her excitement +sharpened her faculties. She declared that it was certainly the expected +boat; it was one, she knew well, and could recognize distinctly. + +They began to speculate as to the time of its arrival; and while they +spoke, still watching eagerly, they did not notice how the sky darkened. +The horizon still remained light; it even grew brighter; but the +brightness was only a line, surrounded with a silvery border; the black +cloud spread out overhead. By-and-by the wind began to rise again in +long, wailing blasts, as it had done that morning. The edges of the +cloud seemed to be torn into long, jagged fringes, and there fell sharp, +momentary showers of snow and sleet, hissing as they touched the water. +The boat came on fast now; but at intervals it was hidden; once, when a +denser obstacle than usual of rain and drift and frosty mist had come +between it and the land, there appeared in the lull that followed +another object much further away, but moving down the river also. It was +a large steamer coming down from the lakes, and hurrying on before the +storm. + +Again the distance was hidden. Again, after a longer interval, the two +boats were seen--the small one tacking from side to side, using every +contrivance to hasten its course, and reach the port; the other holding +steadily and swiftly on its way. + +But as the wind increased there came with it a dense fog. Gradually it +settled down over the river and then the wind sank, blowing only, as at +first, in single gusts, which wailed horribly round the house and +through the trees about it. There was nothing to see now, but still the +three kept their places at the window, and hoped the fog might rise if +but for a moment, and show them where the boat was. + +Sometimes, indeed, the fog did vary in intensity. A current of wind +seemed to sweep through it, and then they could distinguish the lights +which the steamer was now burning at the mast head, and guess how far +distant that still was. But these lights seemed at last to be almost +close at hand; and the boat, which had been at first so much before the +steamer, ought to be quite near also. It might be even now passing the +place where they were, on its way to the village at the further end of +the island. + +Mr. Strafford reminded Mrs. Costello of this, and proposed that they +should start on their return. + +"If we delay much longer," he said, "it will be quite dark, and besides, +the paths are getting every moment more choked up." + +She rose instantly. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, "I ought to have thought;" but still, as +she fastened her cloak, she continued to keep her eyes fixed upon the +veil of fog which hung between her and the river. + +Mr. Strafford and Lucia both stopped to say a few words to Sunflower, +who was still busy with her cakes, but Mrs. Costello never ceased to +look out until she was obliged to follow the others from the house. The +air was bitterly cold; and, hastened by storm and mist, the night was +coming on fast. They paused for a moment outside the wicket; and Mrs. +Costello, looking at Mr. Strafford with a consciousness that her wish +was foolish and unreasonable, said-- + +"I should like to go down quite to the shore, just for a moment, to try +if I can see anything." + +He turned instantly and walked with her to the very extremity of the +little point, Lucia following. + +They stood exactly on the spot where she had landed as a bride, and +looked out into the darkness. Suddenly she grasped Mr. Strafford's arm. + +"Listen!" she said, "there are oars close by." + +"Impossible," he answered. "See, the steamer's lights are just there +opposite us. It must be turning round to go into Claremont." + +But she bent her head forward listening. For even through the beat of +the paddles, which she could now distinguish plainly, it still seemed +that she heard the sound of oars, and she thought, + +"They have given up trying to use their sails, and taken to rowing." + +Suddenly a current of wind passing along the surface of the water lifted +the fog. Just to their right, towering high in the air and holding a +swift, steady course, came the steamer; but in front of it, scarcely a +dozen yards from its huge bulk, lay the little boat. In that moment, as +the fog rose and showed the danger, a single cry of terror burst from +the boatmen and from those on shore. Instantly afterwards a shout was +heard on board the steamer, and the engines were reversed; but the space +was awfully small, and the monster, carried by the strong current, bore +on still. Lucia hid her face; Mrs. Costello, still leaning forward, +tightened her grasp on the arm that supported her. Mr. Strafford +unconsciously spoke aloud, + +"In the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, Good Lord deliver +us." + +And as he spoke the crash came. Next moment the boat had disappeared, +and the steamer still swept on. + +Neither of the three on shore saw more than this. At the moment when +the boat was struck and sunk, Mr. Strafford felt Mrs. Costello's clasp +loosen on his arm. He turned just in time to save her from falling, and +carried her back into the house in one of those fainting fits which so +much alarmed Lucia. It did not, however, last long; and when she had a +little recovered, he left her and went out again. + +The fog had once more settled down, but he could distinguish the many +lights which now gleamed from the deck and from the windows of the +steamer which still lay where it had been stopped. Voices were audible, +too, and he contrived to make out that boats had been let down to search +for the fisherman and his companions. This was all that could be learned +here, and he became anxious to reach home, that he might himself cross +to Claremont and learn what was known there. + +He went back to the house, therefore, and found Mrs. Costello quite +determined, in spite of her weakness, to start at once on their walk +back. With painful forebodings and regrets, therefore, they left the +promontory, and walked as fast as they were able towards the village. + +Little was said on the way; but as soon as they were near his house, Mr. +Strafford told his companions of his intention. Neither could find +anything to say against it; but Mrs. Costello looked anxiously at him +while he explained that he meant to take a good boatman with him and +burn a bright light. Then she held out her hand to him to express the +thanks she had no words for. + +They found Mrs. Hall unhappy at their absence, and ready to do +everything possible for their comfort; but it was not until she had seen +Mr. Strafford push off from the landing-place that Mrs. Costello could +be induced to lie down and rest. + +Then there was nothing more to be done, and she submitted readily; and +so great was her exhaustion that she almost instantly fell asleep. Lucia +and Mrs. Hall sat watching her, and two hours passed before she woke. + +At last, she moved, and Lucia was glad to see that her face was less +pale than when she lay down, and that she looked up at her with a smile. + +"Is Mr. Strafford come back?" she said. "He will bring us good news, I +think." + +"He has not come yet," Lucia said; but almost as she spoke, footsteps +were heard outside. Mrs. Hall hurried to open the door, and Mr. +Strafford came in. + +"They are safe?" Mrs. Costello asked. + +"Yes; all three. There was the man and two boys--one of them his son. +The steamer's boat picked up the boys almost immediately. The man's arm +is broken; and he was carried a little way down the stream before they +found him." + +"Are they at Claremont?" + +"Yes. They will go back home by the steamer to-morrow, and you will hear +more of them when you return to Cacouna." + +"And the boat?" + +"No one knows anything of that. In the darkness and confusion it must +have floated away with the current." + +There was another question to ask, but she stopped, scarcely knowing how +to ask it. Mr. Strafford understood her silence. + +"The man told me," he said, "that the coffin was on deck, and that when +the steamer struck them the boat capsized. He himself clung to the side +for a moment when it was upside down in the water, so that everything on +board, which was not secured, must have gone to the bottom." + +So it was. Standing beside the home of her married life, she had +witnessed her husband's burial. After his stormy life he was not to +rest in quiet consecrated ground; but to lie where the current of his +native river washed over him continually and kept him in perpetual +oblivion. It was better so. No angry feelings had followed him to his +death; but having been freely forgiven, it was well that he should leave +no memorial behind him--not even a grave--but pass away and be +forgotten. When all was over, Mrs. Costello felt this. For Lucia's sake, +it was well--let the dead go now, and make way for the living. + + + END OF VOL. II. + + + + + PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO., + LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, Volume 2, by Mrs. Harry Coghill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE, VOLUME 2 *** + +***** This file should be named 18122.txt or 18122.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/2/18122/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Janet Blenkinship 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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