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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Canadian Heroine, 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
+       A Novel, Volume 3 (of 3)
+
+Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill
+
+Release Date: April 8, 2006 [EBook #18132]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE ***
+
+
+
+
+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 CANADIAN HEROINE.
+
+  A Novel.
+
+
+  BY
+
+  THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS."
+
+
+    "Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando,
+    E disse: Or ha bisogna il tuo fidele
+    Di te, ed 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. III.
+
+    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.
+
+
+Mr. Leigh was in a very depressed and anxious mood. His late
+conversations with Mrs. Costello had disturbed him and broken up the
+current of his thoughts, and even to some extent of his usual
+occupations, without producing any result beneficial to either of them.
+She had told him a strange and almost incredible story of her life; and
+then, just when he was full of sympathy and eagerness to be of use to
+her, everything seemed suddenly to have changed, and the events that
+followed had been wholly, as it were, out of his reach. He thought over
+the matter with a little sensation, which, if he had been less simple
+and generous a man, might have been offence. Even as it was, he felt
+uncomfortably divided between his real interest in his old friends, and
+a temptation to pretend that he was not interested at all. He
+remembered, too, with a serio-comical kind of remorse, the manner in
+which he had spoken to Mrs. Costello about Maurice. He was obliged to
+confess to himself that Maurice had never said a word to him which could
+be taken as expressing any other than a brotherly feeling of regard for
+Lucia; he had certainly _fancied_ that there was another kind of
+affection in his thoughts; but it was no part of the old soldier's code
+of honour to sanction the betrayal of a secret discovered by chance, and
+he felt guilty in remembering how far the warmth of his friendship had
+carried him. He considered, by way of tormenting himself yet further,
+that it was perfectly possible for a young man, being daily in the
+company of a beautiful and charming girl, to fancy himself in love with
+her, and yet, on passing into a different world and seeing other
+charming girls, to discover that he had been mistaken. It is true that
+if any other person had suggested that Maurice might have done this, Mr.
+Leigh would have been utterly offended and indignant; nevertheless,
+having proposed the idea to himself, he tried to look upon it as quite
+natural and justifiable. After all, this second theory of inconstancy
+rested upon the first theory of supposed love, and that upon guesses and
+surmises, so that the whole edifice was just as shadowy and
+unsubstantial as it could well be. But then it is curious to see how
+much real torment people manage to extract from visionary troubles.
+
+While his neighbours were still at Moose Island Mr. Leigh received two
+letters from Maurice. The first not only did not contain the usual note
+enclosed for Mrs. Costello, but there was not the slightest message to,
+or mention of, either her or Lucia. Mr. Leigh examined the letter,
+peeped into the envelope, shook the sheets apart (for Maurice's writing
+filled much space with few words), but found nothing. The real
+explanation of this was simple enough. Maurice had written his note to
+Mrs. Costello, and then, just as he was going to put it in the envelope,
+was called to his grandfather. In getting up from the table he gave the
+note a push, which sent it down into a wastepaper basket. There it lay
+unnoticed, and when he came back, just in time to send off his letters,
+he fancied, not seeing it, that he had put it into the envelope, which
+accordingly he closed and sent to the post without it. But of course
+Mr. Leigh knew nothing about this.
+
+The second letter was equally without enclosure or message, though from
+a very different cause. It was scarcely a dozen lines in length, and
+only said that Mr. Beresford was dying. Maurice had just received Mrs.
+Costello's farewell note; he was feeling angry and grieved, and could
+think of no better expedient than to keep silence for the moment, even
+if he had had time to renew his expostulations. He had not fully
+comprehended the secret Mrs. Costello entrusted to him, but in the
+preoccupations of the moment, he put off all concerns but those of the
+dying man until he should have more leisure to attend to them. Thus, by
+a double chance, Mr. Leigh was allowed to persuade himself that Maurice
+had either never had any absorbing interest in the Costellos, or that
+his interest in them was being gradually supplanted by others. In this
+opinion, and in a curiously uncomfortable and contradictory humour, his
+friends found him when they came back from the island.
+
+Mrs. Costello, on her part, had been entirely unable to keep Maurice out
+of her thoughts. As Christian's death, and all the agitation consequent
+upon it, settled back into the past, she had plenty of leisure and
+plenty of temptation to revert to her old hopes and schemes. Half
+consciously she had allowed herself to build up a charming fabric of
+possibilities. _Possibly_ Maurice might write and say, "It is Lucia I
+love, Lucia I want to marry. It matters nothing to me what her father is
+or was." (Quixotic and not-to-be-counted-upon piece of generosity!)
+_Possibly_ she herself might then be justified in answering, "The
+accusation brought against her father has been proved false--my child is
+stainless--and you have proved your right to her;" and it was
+impossible, she believed, that Lucia, hearing all the truth, should not
+be touched as they would have her.
+
+These imaginations, built upon such ardent and long-indulged wishes,
+acquired a considerable degree of strength during her visit to Mr.
+Strafford; and although a little surprised at not receiving, during her
+stay there, the usual weekly note from Maurice which she had calculated
+would cross her last important letter on the way, she came home eager to
+see Mr. Leigh, and to hear from him the last news from England.
+
+But when she had paid her visit to her old neighbour, she came back
+puzzled, disappointed, and slightly indignant. There was an air of
+constraint about Mr. Leigh, especially when he spoke of Maurice, which
+was so entirely new as to appear a great deal more significant than it
+really was; and this, added to the fact that two letters had been
+received, one written before, and the other after the arrival of hers,
+neither of which contained so much as a message for her or Lucia,
+suddenly suggested to Mrs. Costello that she was a very foolish woman
+who was still wasting her wishes and thoughts on plans, the time for
+which had gone by, instead of following steadily, and without
+hesitation, what her reason told her was the best and most sensible
+course. She so far convinced herself that it was time to give up
+thinking of Lucia's marriage to Maurice, as to be really in earnest both
+in completing her preparations for leaving Canada, and in rejoicing at
+the receipt of a letter from her cousin expressing his perfect approval
+of her decision to return to Europe.
+
+This letter even Lucia could not help acknowledge to be thoroughly kind
+and kinsmanlike. Mr. Wynter proposed to meet them at Havre, and, if
+possible, accompany them to Paris.
+
+"If you are travelling alone," he said, "I may be of service to you; and
+since you have decided on going to France, I should like to see you
+comfortably settled there. By that means, too, we shall have plenty of
+time to talk over whatever arrangements you wish made with regard to
+your daughter. However, I have great hopes that when you find yourself
+away from the places where you have suffered so much, and near your own
+people, you will grow quite strong again."
+
+There were messages from his wife and daughters, in conclusion, which
+seemed to promise that they also would be ready to welcome their unknown
+relatives.
+
+"Blood is thicker than water." Mrs. Costello began to feel that the one
+secure asylum for Lucia, in her probable orphanhood, would be in the old
+house by the Dee.
+
+The next time she saw Mr. Leigh, she told him her plans quite frankly.
+She did so with some suspicion of his real feelings, only that in spite
+of their long acquaintance she did him the injustice to fancy that he
+would, for reasons of his own, be glad that Lucia should be out of
+Maurice's way if he returned to Canada. She supposed that he had, on
+reflection, begun to shrink from the idea of a half-Indian
+daughter-in-law, and while she confessed to herself that the feeling
+was, according to ordinary custom, reasonable enough, she was at heart
+extremely angry that it should be entertained.
+
+"My beautiful Lucia!" she said to herself indignantly; "as if she were
+not ten times more lovely, and a thousand times more worth loving, than
+any of those well-born, daintily brought up, pretty dolls, that Lady
+Dighton is likely to find for him! I did think better of Maurice. But,
+of course, it is all right enough. I had no right to expect him to be
+more than mortal."
+
+And Lucia went on in the most perfect unconsciousness of all the
+troubled thoughts circling round her. She spoke honestly of her regret
+at leaving Canada when, perhaps, Maurice might so soon be there, though
+she kept to herself the hopes which made her going so much less sad than
+it would have been otherwise. She was extremely busy, for Mrs. Costello,
+now that she thought no more of returning to the Cottage, had decided to
+sell it; all their possessions, therefore, had to be divided into three
+parts, the furniture to be sold with the house, their more personal
+belongings to go with them, and various books and knickknacks to be left
+as keepsakes with their friends. It was generally known now all over
+Cacouna that Mrs. Costello was going "home," in order that Lucia might
+be near her relations in case of "anything happening,"--a thing nobody
+doubted the probability of, who saw the change made during the last few
+months in their grave and quiet neighbour. They were a little vague in
+their information about these relations, but that was a matter of
+secondary importance; and as the mother and daughter were really very
+much liked by their neighbours, they were quite overwhelmed with
+invitations and visits.
+
+So the days passed on quickly; and for the second time, the one fixed
+for their journey was close at hand. One more letter had arrived from
+Maurice, containing the news of his grandfather's death. It was short,
+like the previous one, and almost equally hurried. He said that he was
+struggling through the flood of business brought upon him by his
+accession to estates so large, and till lately so zealously cared for by
+their possessor. As soon as ever he could get away, he meant to start
+for Canada; and as the time of his doing so depended only on his
+success in hurrying on certain affairs which were already in hand, his
+father might expect him by any mail except the first after his letter
+arrived. There was no message to Mrs. Costello in this note, but, on the
+other side of the half sheet which held the conclusion of it, was a
+postscript hastily scrawled,
+
+"Tell Mrs. Costello to remember the last talk we had together, and to
+believe that I am obstinate."
+
+This postscript, however, Mr. Leigh in his excitement and joy at the
+prospect of so soon seeing his son, never found out. He read the letter
+twice over, and then put it away in his desk, without even remembering
+at the moment, to wonder at Maurice's continued silence towards his old
+friends. The thought did strike him afterwards, but he was quite certain
+that he had read every word of the letter, and was only confirmed in the
+ideas he had begun to entertain. He sighed over these ideas, and over
+the loss of Lucia, whom he loved with almost fatherly affection; but
+still, even she was infinitely less dear to him than Maurice; and if
+Maurice really did not care for her, why then, sooner than throw the
+smallest shadow of blame upon him, _he_ would not seem to care for her
+either.
+
+So Mrs. Costello learned that Maurice was coming, and that he had not
+thought it worth while to send even a word to his old friends.
+
+"He is the only one," she thought, "who has changed towards us, and I
+trusted him most of all."
+
+And she took refuge from her disappointment in anger. Her disappointment
+and her anger, however, were both silent; she would not say an ill word
+to Lucia of Maurice; and Lucia, engrossed in her work and her
+anticipations, did not perhaps remark that there was any change. She
+made one attempt to persuade her mother to delay their journey until
+after Maurice's arrival, but, being reminded that their passage was
+taken, she consoled herself with,
+
+"Well, it will be easy enough for him to come to see us. I suppose
+everybody in England goes to Paris sometimes?"
+
+And so the end came. They had not neglected Maurice's charge, though
+Maurice seemed to have forgotten them. Whatever was possible to do to
+provide for Mr. Leigh's comfort during his short solitude they had
+done. The last farewells were said; Mr. Strafford, who had insisted on
+going with them to New York, had arrived at the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs
+and Bella had spent their last day with their friends and gone away in
+tears. All their life at Cacouna, with its happiness and its sorrow, was
+over, and early next morning they were to cross the river for the last
+time, and begin their journey to England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Maurice had full opportunity for the exercise of patience during the
+last weeks of his grandfather's life. It was hard to sit there day after
+day watching the half-conscious old man, who lay so still and seemed so
+shut out from human feelings or sympathies, and to feel all the while
+that any one of those hours of vigil might be the one that stole from
+him his heart's desire. Yet there was no alternative. His grandfather,
+who had received and adopted him, was suffering and solitary, dependent
+wholly on him for what small gratification he could still enjoy.
+Gratitude, therefore, and duty kept him here. But _there_, meanwhile, so
+far out of his reach, what might be going on? He lived a perfectly
+double life. Lucia was in trouble--some inexplicable shadow of disgrace
+was threatening her--something so grave that even her mother, who knew
+him so well, thought it an unsurmountable barrier between
+them--something which looked the more awful from its vagueness and
+mystery. It is true that he was only troubled--not discouraged by the
+appearance of this phantom. He was as ready to fight for his Una as ever
+was Redcross Knight--but then would his Una wait for him? To be forcibly
+held back from the combat must have been much worse to a true champion
+than any wounds he could receive in fair fight. So at least it seemed to
+Maurice, secretly chafing, and then bitterly reproaching himself for his
+impatience; yet the next moment growing as impatient as before.
+
+To him in this mood came Mrs. Costello's last letter. Now at last the
+mystery was cleared up, and its impalpable shape reduced to a positive
+and ugly reality. Like his father, Maurice found no small difficulty in
+understanding and believing the story told to him. That Mrs. Costello,
+calm, gentle, and just touched with a quiet stateliness, as he had
+always known her, could ever have been an impulsive, romantic girl, so
+swayed by passion or by flattery as to have left her father's house and
+all the protecting restraints of her English life to follow the fortunes
+of an Indian, was an idea so startling that he could not at once accept
+it for truth. In Lucia the incongruity struck him less. Her beauty, dark
+and magnificent, her fearless nature, her slender erect shape, her free
+and graceful movements--all the charms which he had by heart, suited an
+Indian origin. He could readily imagine her the daughter of a chief and
+a hero. But this was not what he was required to believe. He had read
+lately the description of a brutal, half-imbecile savage, who had
+committed a peculiarly frightful and revolting murder, and he was told
+to recognize in this wretch the father of his darling. But it was just
+this which saved him. He would believe that Christian was Mrs.
+Costello's husband and Lucia's father, because Mrs. Costello told him so
+herself and of her own knowledge--but as for a murder, innocent men were
+often accused of that; and when a man is once accused by the popular
+voice of a horrible crime, everybody knows how freely appropriate
+qualities can be bestowed on him. So the conviction which remained at
+the bottom of Maurice's mind, though he never drew it up and looked
+steadily at it, was just the truth--that Christian, by some train of
+circumstances or other, had been made to bear the weight of another
+person's guilt. As to the other question of his giving up Lucia, Maurice
+never troubled himself to think about it. He was, it must be confessed,
+of a singularly obstinate disposition, and in spite of his legal
+training not particularly inclined to listen to reason. Knowing
+therefore perfectly well, that he had made up his mind to marry Lucia,
+provided she did not deliberately prefer somebody else, he felt it
+useless to complicate his already confused ideas any further, by taking
+into consideration the expediency of such a connection. There was quite
+enough to worry him without that; and by some inconceivable stupidity it
+never entered his head that, while he was really so completely incapable
+of altering his mind, other people should seriously think he was doing
+it.
+
+Yet as he read Mrs. Costello's letter over a second time, he began to
+perceive something in its tone which seemed to say clearly--"Don't
+flatter yourself that the matter rests at all with you. I have decided.
+I am no longer your ally, but your opponent." At this a new element came
+into play--anger.
+
+He had been rather unreasonable before--now he became utterly so. "A
+pretty sort of fellow she must think me, after all," he said to himself.
+"I suppose she'd be afraid to trust Lucia to me now. However, if she
+thinks I mean to be beaten that way, she'll find that she is mistaken."
+
+He was walking up and down his room, and working himself up into a
+greater ill-humour with every turn he made.
+
+"If I could only get to Lucia herself," he went on thinking, "I should
+see if I could not end the matter at once, one way or the other--that
+fellow is clear out of the way now, and I believe I should have a
+chance; but as for Mrs. Costello, she seems to think nothing at all of
+throwing me over whenever it suits her."
+
+Poor Maurice! he sat down to write to his father in a miserable
+mood--Mr. Beresford had become suddenly and decidedly worse. The doctors
+said positively that he was dying, and that a few days at the utmost
+would bring the end. Maurice had stolen away while he slept, but his
+angry meditation on Mrs. Costello's desertion had taken up so much of
+his time, that Mr. Leigh's note was short and hurried. Ill-humour
+prevailed also to the point of the note being finished without any
+message (he had no time to write separately) to the Cottage.
+
+His packet despatched, he returned to his grandfather's room. Lady
+Dighton, now staying in the house, sat and watched by the bedside; and
+by-and-by leaving her post, she joined Maurice by the window and began
+to talk to him in a low voice. There was no fear of disturbing the
+invalid; his sleep continued, deep and lethargic, the near forerunner of
+death.
+
+"Maurice," Lady Dighton said, "I wish you would go out for an hour. You
+are not really wanted here, and you look worn out."
+
+"Thank you, I am all right. My grandfather might wake and miss me."
+
+"Go for a little while. Half an hour's gallop would do you good."
+
+Maurice laughed impatiently.
+
+"Why should I want doing good to? It is you, I should think, who ought
+to go out."
+
+"I was out yesterday. Are you still anxious about your father and
+Canada?"
+
+Lady Dighton's straightforward question meant to be answered.
+
+"Yes," Maurice said rather crossly. "I am anxious and worried."
+
+"You can do no good by writing?"
+
+"I seem to do harm. Don't talk to me about it, Louisa. Nothing but my
+being there could have done any good, and now it is most likely too
+late."
+
+She saw plainly enough the fight that was going on--impatience,
+eagerness, selfishness of a kind, on one side--duty and compassion on
+the other. She had no scruple about seeing just as much of her cousin's
+humour as his looks and manner could tell her, and she perceived that at
+the moment it was anything but a good or heroic one. She thought it
+possible that it would have been a relief to him to have struck, or
+shaken, or even kicked something or somebody; and yet she was not at all
+tempted to think the worse of him. She did not understand, of course,
+the late aggravations of his trouble; but she knew that he loved loyally
+and thought his love in danger, and she gave him plenty of sympathy,
+whatever that might be worth. She had obtained a considerable amount of
+influence over him, and used it, in general, for his good. At present he
+was in rather an unmanageable mood, but still she did not mean to let
+him escape her.
+
+"He looks dreadfully worried, poor boy!" she said to herself. "Being
+shut up here day after day must be bad for him. I shall _make_ Sir John
+take him out to-morrow."
+
+But when to-morrow came, and Sir John paid his daily visit to his wife,
+she had other things to think about. He found the servants lingering
+about the halls and staircases in silent excitement, and in the sick
+room a little group watching, as they stood round the bed, for the old
+man's final falling asleep.
+
+He had been conscious early in the morning, and spoken to both his
+grandchildren; but gradually, so very gradually that they could not say
+"he changed at such an hour," the heavy rigidity of death closed upon
+his already paralysed limbs, and his eyes grew dimmer. It was a very
+quiet peaceful closing of a long life, which, except that it had been
+sometimes hard and proud, had passed in usefulness and honour. And so,
+towards sunset, some one said, "He is gone," and laid a hand gently upon
+the stiffening eyelids.
+
+Sir John took his wife away to her room, and there she leaned her head
+against his shoulder and cried, not very bitterly, but with real
+affection for her grandfather. Maurice went away also, very grave, and
+thinking tenderly of the many kind words and deeds which had marked the
+months of his stay at Hunsdon. And yet within half an hour, Lady Dighton
+was talking to her husband quite calmly about some home affairs which
+interested him; and Maurice had begun to calculate how soon he could get
+away for that long-deferred six weeks' absence.
+
+But, of course, although they could not keep their thoughts prisoners,
+these mourners, who were genuine mourners after their different degrees,
+were constrained to observe the decorous, quiet, and interregnum of all
+ordinary occupation, which custom demands after a death. Lady Dighton
+returned home next day, hidden in her carriage, and went to shut herself
+up in her own house until the funeral. Maurice remained at Hunsdon,
+where he was now master, and spent his days in the library writing
+letters, or trying to make plans for his future, and it was then that
+the letter with his lost message to Mrs. Costello was sent off.
+
+Yet the space between Mr. Beresford's death and his funeral was to his
+heir a tedious and profitless blank. He had till now been kept here by
+living powers, gratitude and reverence; death came, and handed his
+custody over to cold but tyrannous propriety. Now he rebelled with all
+his heart, and spent hours of each solitary day in pacing backwards and
+forwards the whole space of the great dim room which seemed a prison to
+him.
+
+The day before the funeral broke this stillness, two or three gentlemen,
+distant relations or old friends of his grandfather, came to Hunsdon,
+and towards evening there arrived the family solicitor, Mr. Payne. At
+dinner that day Maurice had to take his new position as host. It was, as
+suited the circumstances, a grave quiet party, but still there was
+something about the manner of the guests, and even in the fact of their
+being _his_ guests, which was unconsciously consoling to Maurice as
+being a guarantee of his freedom and independence. Next morning the
+house was all sombre bustle and preparation. Lady Dighton and her
+husband arrived. She, to have one last look at the dead, he to join
+Maurice in the office of mourner; and at twelve o'clock, the long
+procession wound slowly away through the park, and the great house stood
+emptied of the old life and ready for the commencement of the new one.
+
+The new one began, indeed, after those who had followed Mr. Beresford
+to the grave had come back, and assembled in the great unused
+drawing-room to hear the will read. Lady Dighton shivered as she sat by
+one of the newly-lighted fires, and bending over to Maurice whispered to
+him, "For heaven's sake keep the house warmer than poor grandpapa used
+to do."
+
+"Used" already! The new life had begun.
+
+There was nothing in the will but what was pretty generally known. Mr.
+Beresford had made no secret of his intentions even with regard to
+legacies. There was one to his granddaughter, with certain jewels and
+articles which had peculiar value for her; some to old friends, some to
+servants, and the whole remainder of his possessions real and personal
+to Maurice Leigh, on the one condition of his assuming the name and arms
+of Beresford.
+
+It was a very satisfactory will. Maurice, in his impatience, thought its
+chief virtue was that it contained nothing which could hinder him from
+starting at once for Canada. He told Mr. Payne that he wished to see him
+for a short time that evening; and after the other guests had gone to
+bed, the two sat down together by the library fire to settle, as he
+fancied, whatever small arrangements must be made before his going.
+
+He soon found out his mistake. In the first place the solicitor, who had
+a powerful and hereditary interest in the affairs of Hunsdon, was
+shocked beyond expression at the idea of such a voyage being undertaken
+at all. Here, he would have said if he had spoken his thoughts, was a
+young man just come into a fine estate, a magnificent estate in fact,
+and one of the finest positions in the country, and the very first thing
+he thinks of, is to hurry off on a long sea-voyage to a half-barbarous
+country, without once stopping to consider that if he were to be
+drowned, or killed in a railway accident, or lost in the woods, the
+estate might fall into Chancery, or at the best go to a woman. Mr. Payne
+mentally trembled at such rashness, and he expressed enough of the
+horror he felt, to make Maurice aware that it really was a less simple
+matter than he had supposed, and that his new fortunes had their claims
+and drawbacks. Mr. Payne followed up his first blow with others. He
+immediately began to ask, "If you go, what do you wish done in such a
+case?" And the cases were so many that Maurice, in spite of the
+knowledge Mr. Beresford had made him acquire of his affairs, became
+really puzzled and harassed. Finally, he saw that a delay of a week
+would be inevitable; and the solicitor, having gained the day so far,
+relented, and allowed him to hope that after a week's application to
+business, he would be in a position to please himself.
+
+Next day Maurice was left alone at Hunsdon. He wrote his last letter to
+his father, and being determined to follow it himself so shortly, he
+sent no message to the Costellos. Then he set to work hard and steadily
+to clear the way for his departure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+One day Maurice rode over to Dighton, and told his cousin he was come to
+say good-bye. She was not, of course, surprised to hear that he was
+really going, but she could not help expressing her wonder at the
+lightness with which he spoke of a journey of so many thousand miles.
+
+"You talk of going to Canada," she said, "just as I should talk of going
+to Paris--as if it were an affair of a few hours."
+
+"If it were six times as far," he answered, "it would make no difference
+to me, except that I should be more impatient to start; and yet most
+likely when I get there I shall find my journey useless."
+
+Somehow or other there had come to be a tolerably clear understanding,
+on Lady Dighton's part, of the state of affairs between Maurice and
+Lucia--she knew that Maurice was intent upon finding his old playfellow,
+and winning her if possible at once. She naturally took the part of her
+new favourite; and believed that if Lucia were really what he described
+her, she would easily be persuaded to come to Hunsdon as its mistress;
+for, of course, she knew of no other barrier between the young people
+than that of Maurice's newly acquired importance. She thought Mrs.
+Costello had acted in a prudent and dignified manner in wishing to
+separate them; but she also thought, in rather a contradictory fashion,
+that since Maurice was intent upon the marriage, he ought to have his
+own way. So she was quite disposed to encourage him with auguries of
+success.
+
+"They are not likely to be in any hurry to begin a sea-voyage such
+weather as this," she said, shivering. "Two ladies, even if they are
+Canadians, can't make quite so light of it as you do."
+
+"I wish you may be right," he answered; "but if I should not find them
+there, I shall bring my father to England and then go off in search of
+them. A pretty prospect! They may lead me all over Europe before I find
+them."
+
+Lady Dighton laughed outright.
+
+"One would suppose that telegraphs and railways were not in existence,"
+she said, "and that you had to set out, like a knight-errant, with
+nothing but a horse and a sword to recover your runaway lady-love."
+
+Maurice felt slightly offended, but thought better of it, and laughed
+too.
+
+"I shall find them, no fear," he answered; "but when? and where?"
+
+Next morning he left Hunsdon, and went to London. The moment he was
+really moving, his spirits rose, and his temper, which had been
+considerably disturbed lately, recovered itself. He scarcely stopped at
+all, till he found himself that afternoon at the door of the solicitor's
+office, where he had some affairs to attend to.
+
+He got out of his cab and to the lawyer's door, as if everything
+depended on his own personal speed; but just as he went up the steps,
+the door opened, and a clerk appeared, showing a gentleman out. Even in
+the midst of Maurice's hurry, something familiar in the figure struck
+him; he looked again--it was Percy. They recognized each other; at the
+same moment, by a common impulse, they saluted each other ceremoniously
+and passed on their different ways.
+
+Maurice was expected, and he found Mr. Payne ready to receive him.
+Instead, however, of plunging at once into business as, a minute ago, he
+was prepared to do, he asked abruptly. "Is Mr. Percy a client of yours?"
+
+"I can hardly say that," the lawyer answered, surprised by the question.
+
+"I met him going out," Maurice went on.
+
+Mr. Payne rubbed his hands.
+
+"It is no secret," he said; "I may tell you, I suppose. He called about
+some points in a marriage settlement."
+
+Maurice felt his heart give a great leap.
+
+"Whose?" he asked sharply.
+
+Mr. Payne again looked surprised.
+
+"His own, certainly. He is going to marry a daughter of the Earl of
+C----, and I had the honour of being employed by the late Countess's
+family, from whom her ladyship derives what fortune she has. It is not
+very large," he added, dropping from his dignified tone into a more
+confidential one.
+
+Maurice was silent for a minute. His sensations were curious; divided
+between joy that Lucia was certainly free in _this_ quarter, and a
+vehement desire to knock down, horsewhip, or otherwise ill-use the
+Honourable Edward Percy. Of course, this was a savage impulse, only
+worthy of a half-civilized backwoodsman, but happily he kept it down out
+of sight, and his companion filled up the pause.
+
+"The marriage is to take place in a week. The engagement has been
+hastily got up, they say, at last; though there was some talk of it a
+year ago. He does not seem particularly eager about it now."
+
+"What is he marrying her for?" was Maurice's next question, put with an
+utter disregard of all possibilities of sentiment in the matter--the man
+whom Lucia _might_ have loved could not but be indifferent to all other
+women.
+
+"It's not a bad match," Mr. Payne answered, putting his head on one side
+as if to consider it critically. "Not much money, but a good
+connection--excellent."
+
+Whereupon they dismissed Percy and his affairs, and went to work.
+
+Late that night, for no reason but because he could not rest in London,
+Maurice started for Liverpool. The steamer did not sail till afternoon,
+and there would have been plenty of time for him to go down in the
+morning; but he chose do otherwise, and consequently found himself in
+the streets of Liverpool in the miserable cold darkness of the winter
+dawn. Of course, there was nothing to be done then, but go to a hotel
+and get some breakfast and such warmth as was to be had. He felt cross
+and miserable, and half wished he had stayed in London.
+
+However the fire burnt up, breakfast came, and the dingy fog began to
+roll away a little from before the windows. He went out and walked about
+the city. He stared at the public buildings without seeing them; then at
+the shop-windows, till he suddenly found himself in front of a
+jeweller's, and it occurred to him that he would go in and buy a ring
+which would fit a slender finger in case of need. He went in
+accordingly, and after looking at some dozens, at last fixed upon one.
+He knew the exact size, for he had once taken a ring of Lucia's and
+tried to put it on his little finger; it would not go over the middle
+joint, but persisted in sticking fast just where the one he bought
+stopped. It was a magnificent little affair--almost enough to bribe a
+girl to say "Yes" for the pleasure of wearing it, and Maurice
+congratulated himself on the happy inspiration. Being in a tempting
+shop, he also bethought himself of carrying out with him some trifling
+gifts for his old friends; and by the time he had finished his
+selection, he found to his great satisfaction that he might return to
+the hotel for his luggage, and go on board ship at once.
+
+The small steamer which was to carry the passengers out to the 'India'
+was already beginning to take on her load when Maurice arrived. The fog,
+which had partially cleared away in the town, lay heavy and brown over
+the river; the wet dirty deck, the piles of luggage, and groups of
+people were all muffled in it, and looked shapeless and miserable in the
+gloom. Hurry and apparent confusion were to be seen everywhere, but only
+for a short time. The loading was soon completed, and they moved away
+into the river.
+
+Then came another transfer--passengers, trunks, mail-bags all poured on
+to the 'India's' deck. Last farewells were said--friends parted, some
+for a few weeks, some for ever--the great paddles began to move, and the
+voyage was begun.
+
+As they went down the river, snow began to fall. It filled the air and
+covered the deck with wet, slowly moving flakes, and the water which
+swallowed it up all round the ship looked duller and darker by contrast.
+Everybody went below, most people occupied themselves with arranging
+their possessions so as to be most comfortable during the voyage;
+Maurice, who had few possessions to arrange, took out that morning's
+_Times_, and sat down to read.
+
+The first two or three days of a voyage are generally nearly a blank to
+landsmen. Maurice was no exception to the rule. Even Lucia commanded
+only a moderate share of his thoughts till England and Ireland were
+fairly out of sight, and the 'India' making her steady course over the
+open ocean. Then he began to watch the weather as eagerly as if the
+ship's speed and safety had depended on his care. Every day he went, the
+moment the notice was put up, to see what progress they had made since
+the day before, and, according as their rate of movement was slower or
+faster, his day and night were serene or disturbed.
+
+The number of passengers was small. With what there were he soon formed
+the kind of acquaintance which people shut up together for a certain
+time generally make with each other. Everybody was eager for the
+conclusion of the voyage, for the weather, though on the whole fine, was
+intensely cold, and only the bravest or hardiest could venture to spend
+much time on deck. Down below every device for killing time was in
+requisition; but in spite of all, the question, "When shall we reach New
+York?" was discussed over and over again; and each indication of their
+voyage being by a few hours shorter than they had a right to expect, was
+hailed with the greatest delight.
+
+One day when they were really near the end of their voyage, Maurice and
+a fellow-passenger, a young man of about his own age, were walking
+briskly up and down the deck, trying to keep themselves warm, and
+talking of Canada, to which they were both bound. A sailor who had come
+for some purpose to the part of the deck where they were, suddenly
+called their attention to a curl of smoke far off on the horizon; it was
+something homeward bound, he said--he could not tell what, but they
+would most likely pass near each other.
+
+The two young men had been thinking of going down, but the idea of
+meeting a ship of any kind was sufficient excitement to keep them on
+deck. They continued their walk, stopping every now and then to watch
+the smoke as it grew more and more distinct. Presently the steamer
+itself became visible, and other persons began to assemble and guess
+what steamer it could be and how long it would be before they passed
+each other. Meanwhile the stranger came nearer and nearer; at last it
+could be recognized--the 'Atalanta,' from New York to Havre. Maurice
+borrowed a glass from one of the officers, and, going a little apart
+from the group on the deck of the 'India,' set himself to examine that
+of the 'Atalanta.' A sudden feeling of dismay had seized upon him. He
+had no more reason to suppose that Lucia was on board this steamer than
+he had to believe that she had sailed a week ago, or that she was still
+at Cacouna, and yet a horrible certainty took possession of him that, if
+he could only get on board that ship, so tantalizingly close at hand and
+yet so utterly inaccessible, he should find her there. He strained his
+eyes in the vain effort to distinguish her figure. He almost stamped
+with disappointment when he found that the distance was too great, or
+his glass not sufficiently powerful, for the forms he could just see, to
+be recognizable; and as the two steamers passed on, and the distance
+between them grew every moment greater, he hurried down to his cabin,
+not caring that any one should see how disturbed he was. He threw
+himself upon his little sofa, thinking.
+
+"I wonder if she suspected I was so near her. I wonder whether she
+looked for me as I looked for her. Not _as_ I did, of course, for she is
+everything to me, and I am only an old friend to her; but yet I think
+she would have been sorry to miss me by so little.
+
+"What an idiot I am! when I have not even the smallest notion whether
+she could be on board or not. Very likely I shall find them still at the
+dear old Cottage."
+
+But after his soliloquy he shook his head in a disconsolate manner, and
+betook himself to a novel by way of distraction.
+
+Two more days and they reached New York. They got in early in the
+morning, and Maurice, the moment he found himself on shore, hurried to
+the railway station. On inquiry there, however, he found that to start
+immediately would be, in fact, rather to lose, than to gain time. A
+train starting that evening would be his speediest conveyance; and for
+that he resolved to wait. He then turned to a telegraph office,
+intending to send a message to his father, but on second thoughts
+abandoned that idea also, considering that Mr. Leigh already expected
+him, and that further warning could do no good and might do harm.
+
+He spent the day, he scarcely knew how. He dined somewhere, and read the
+newspapers. He found himself out in the middle of reading with the
+greatest appearance of interest an article copied from the _Times_ which
+he had read in England weeks before. He looked perpetually at his watch,
+and when, at last, he found that his train would be due in half an hour,
+he started up in the greatest haste, and drove to the station as if he
+had not a moment to spare.
+
+What a Babel the car seemed when he did get into it! There were numbers
+of women and children, not a few babies. It was bitterly cold, and
+everybody was anxious to settle themselves at once for the night.
+Everybody was talking, sitting down, and getting up again, turning the
+seats backwards and forwards to suit their parties, or their fancies,
+soothing the shivering, crying children, or discussing the probability
+of being impeded by the snow. But when the train was fairly in motion,
+when the conductor had made his progress through the cars, when
+everybody had got their tickets, and there was no more to be done, all
+subsided gradually into a dull sleepy quiet, broken occasionally by a
+child's cry, but still undisturbed enough to let those passengers who
+did not care to sleep, think in peace.
+
+Maurice thought, uselessly, but persistently. He thought of the past,
+when he had been quite happy, looking forward to a laborious life with
+Lucia to brighten it. He thought of the future which must now have one
+of two aspects--either cold, matter-of-fact and solitary, in the great
+empty house at Hunsdon without Lucia, or bright and perfect beyond even
+his former dreams, in that same great old house with her. He meant to
+win her, however, sooner or later, and the real trouble which he feared
+at present was nothing worse than delay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello and Lucia found their journey from Cacouna to New York a
+very melancholy one. They had gone through so much already, that change
+and travel had no power to stimulate their overstrained nerves to any
+further excitement; the time of reaction had begun, and a sort of
+languid indifference, which was in itself a misery, seemed to have taken
+possession of them. Even Lucia's spirits, generally strong both for
+enjoyment or for suffering, were completely subdued; she sat by the
+window of the car looking out at the wintry landscape all day long, yet
+saw nothing, or remembered nothing that she had seen. Once or twice she
+thought, "Perhaps in a few days more, Maurice will be passing over this
+very line; he will be disappointed when he reaches home and finds that
+we are gone;" but all her meditations were dreamy and unreal--her mind
+acted mechanically. A kind of moral catalepsy benumbed her. Afterwards
+when she remembered this time, she wondered at herself; she could not
+comprehend the absence of sensation with which she had left the dear
+home and all the familiar objects of her whole life, the incapability of
+feeling either keen sorrow at the parting, or hope in the unknown
+future. The days they spent in hurrying hour by hour further away from
+Canada, always remained in her recollection little more than a blank,
+and she scarcely seemed to recover herself until Mr. Strafford touched
+her gently on the shoulder, late in the evening and said,
+
+"New York at last, Lucia."
+
+She got up then, in a hurried, confused way, and looked at her mother
+helplessly.
+
+Mrs. Costello, though to some degree she had shared Lucia's stunned
+feeling during their journey, had watched her child with considerable
+anxiety, and was glad of any change in her manner. She hastened to leave
+the train, thinking that the few hours' rest they would have before
+going on board the steamer would be the best remedy for this strange
+torpor. They found, however, when they reached the Hotel and went to
+bed, that weary as they were, they could not sleep. The unaccustomed
+noise of the city--the mere sensation of being in a strange place, kept
+them both waking, and they were glad to get up early, and go down to the
+vast empty drawing-room where Mr. Stafford could join them for the last
+time, and talk of the subjects which were near the hearts of all three.
+And yet, after all, they did not talk much. Those last hours which are
+so precious, and in which we seem to have so much to say, are often
+silent ones.
+
+The great house, like a city in itself, with its wide passages and
+halls, and groups of strangers passing constantly to and fro, had
+something dismal and desert like about it. Even the drawing-room was so
+large and so destitute of anything like a snug corner where people could
+be comfortable, that there was little chance of forgetting that they
+were mere wayfarers. When the gong had sounded, and everybody assembled
+for breakfast, the vast dining-room, coldly magnificent in white and
+gold, and all astir with white jacketed waiters, seemed stranger and
+more unhomelike still. Everything was novel, but for once novelty only
+wearied instead of charming.
+
+By noon they were on board the steamer. Mr. Strafford went on board with
+them and stayed till the last minute. But that soon came. The final
+good-bye was said; the last link to Canada and Canadian life was broken.
+They stood on deck and strained their eyes to watch the fast
+disappearing figure till it was gone, and they felt themselves alone.
+Then the vessel began to move out of the harbour, and night seemed to
+come on all at once.
+
+They went down together to their cabin, and seated themselves side by
+side in a desolate companionship. After a minute Lucia put her arms
+tightly round her mother, and laying her head upon her shoulder, cried,
+not passionately, but with a complete abandonment of all self-restraint.
+Mrs. Costello did not try to check those natural and restoring tears.
+She soothed her child by fond motherly touches, kissed her cheek or
+smoothed her hair, but said not a word until the whole dull weight that
+had been pressing on her had melted away. There was something strangely
+forlorn in their circumstances which both felt, and neither liked to
+speak of to the other. Leaving behind all the friends, all the
+associations of so many years, they were going alone--a feeble and
+perhaps dying woman, and a young girl--into a strange world, where every
+face would be new, and even their own language would grow unfamiliar to
+their ears. Even the hope which had brightened this prospect to Lucia's
+eyes, looked very dim, now that the time for proving it was at hand; and
+of all others, the person who occupied her tenderest if not her most
+frequent thoughts was the one who best deserved that she should think of
+him--Maurice Leigh.
+
+Two days of their voyage passed without events. They began to feel
+accustomed to their ship-life, and to make some little acquaintance with
+other passengers. In spite of the cold, Lucia spent a good many hours on
+deck. She used to go with Mrs. Costello every morning for a few quick
+turns up and down, and then, when her mother was tired, she would wrap
+herself up in the warmest cloaks and shawls that she could find, and
+take her seat in a quiet corner, where she could lose sight of all that
+went on about her and, with her face turned towards Canada, see nothing
+but the boundless sea and sky. On the third day she was sitting in this
+manner. There were a good many persons on deck but she was left
+tolerably undisturbed. Occasionally a lady would stop and speak to
+her--the men, who were not altogether blind to her beauty, would have
+liked perhaps to do the same, if her preoccupied air had not made a kind
+of barrier about her, too great to be broken through without more
+warrant than a two days' chance association; but she was thinking or
+dreaming, and never troubled herself about them.
+
+The day was very bright, and there was a ceaseless pleasure in watching
+the ripples of the sea as they rose into the cold silvery sunlight and
+then passed on into the shadow of the ship; or in tracing far away, the
+broad even track marked by edges of tiny bubbles, where the vessel's
+course had been. Gradually she became aware through her abstraction of a
+greater stir and buzz of conversation on the deck behind her; she
+turned, and seeing everybody looking in one direction, rose and looked
+too. A lady standing beside her said,
+
+"It is the Cunard steamer for New York. We think there are some friends
+of ours on board, but I am afraid we shall not pass near enough to find
+out."
+
+"Oh, how I wish we could!" Lucia answered, now thoroughly roused, for
+the idea that Maurice also might be on board suddenly flashed into her
+mind.
+
+She leaned forward over the railing of the deck, and caught sight of the
+'India' coming quickly in the opposite direction, and could even
+distinguish the black mass of her passengers assembled like those of the
+'Atalanta' to watch the passing vessel. But that was all. Telescopes and
+even opera-glasses were being handed from one to another, but she was
+too shy to ask for the loan of one, though she longed for it, just for a
+moment. Certainly it would have been useless. At that very time Maurice,
+standing on the 'India's' deck, was straining his eyes to catch but one
+glimpse of her, and all in vain. Fate had decided that they were to pass
+each other unseen.
+
+But this little incident made Lucia sadder and more dreamy--more unlike
+herself--than before. The voyage was utterly monotonous. In spite of the
+season, the weather was calm and generally fine; and they made good
+progress. The days when an unbroken expanse of sea lay round them were
+not many, and on the second Sunday afternoon land was already in sight.
+That day was unusually mild. Mrs. Costello and Lucia came up together
+about two o'clock, and, after walking up and down for some time, they
+sat down to watch the distant misty line which they might have thought a
+cloud on the horizon, but which was gradually growing nearer and more
+distinct.
+
+While they sat, a single bird came flying from the land. Its wings
+gleamed like silver in the sunlight, and as it came, flying now higher,
+now lower, but always towards the ship, they saw that it was no
+sea-bird, but a white pigeon--pure white, without spot or tinge of
+colour, like the glittering snow of Canada. It came quite near--it flew
+slowly and gracefully round the ship--two or three times, it circled
+round and round, and at last alighted on the rigging. There it rested,
+till, as the sunlight quite faded away and the distant line of land
+disappeared, it took flight again and vanished in the darkness.
+
+Perhaps the strong elasticity of youth and hope in Lucia's nature had
+only waited for some chance touch to set it free, and make it spring up
+vigorously after its repression. At any rate she found a fanciful omen
+in the visit of the snow-white bird; and began to believe that in the
+new country and the new life, there might be as much that was good and
+happy as in the old one. The last hours, full of excitement and
+impatience as the voyage drew to a close, were not unpleasant ones. Very
+early one morning a great commotion and a babel of unusual sounds on
+deck awoke the travellers, and the stewardess going from room to room
+brought the welcome news,
+
+"We are at Havre."
+
+Lucia was up in a moment. The stillness of the vessel, after its
+perpetual motion, gave her an odd sensation, not unlike what she had
+felt when it first began to move; but she was quickly dressed and on
+deck. There were a good many people there, and the water all round was
+alive with boats and shipping of every description, but Lucia's eyes
+naturally turned from the more familiar objects to the unfamiliar and
+welcome sight of land.
+
+A strange land, truly! The solid quays, the masses of building, older
+than anything (except forest-trees) which she had ever seen, the quaint
+dresses of the peasants already moving about in the early morning, all
+struck her with pleased and vivid interest. For the wider features of
+the scene she had at first no thought. Nature is everywhere the same,
+through all her changes. To those who love her she is never wholly
+unrecognizable, and when we meet her in company with new phases of human
+life, we are apt to treat her as the older friend, and let her wait
+until we have greeted the stranger. At least, Lucia did so. She had
+indeed only time for a hurried survey, for their packing had to be
+completed by her hands; and she knew that the arrival of the ship would
+soon be known, and that if Mr. Wynter had kept his promise of meeting
+them, he might appear at any moment. She went down, therefore, and found
+Mrs. Costello dressing with hurried and trembling fingers, too much
+agitated by the prospect of meeting her cousin, after so long and
+strange a separation, to be capable of attending to anything.
+
+All was done, however, before they were interrupted. They wrapped
+themselves up warmly, for the morning was intensely cold through all its
+brightness, and went up on deck together. Lucia found a seat in a
+sheltered place for Mrs. Costello, and stood near her watching the
+constant stream of coming and going between the ship and the shore. They
+had nothing to do for the present but wait, and when they had satisfied
+themselves that, as yet, there was no sign of Mr. Wynter's arrival,
+they had plenty of time to grow better acquainted with the view around
+them.
+
+The long low point of land beside which they lay; the town in front,
+with a flood of cold sunlight resting on its low round tower, and the
+white sugar-loaf shaped monument, which was once the sailor's
+landmark--the lofty chapel piously dedicated to Notre Dame de Bons
+Secours now superseding it--the broad mouth of the Seine and the Norman
+shore, bending away to the right--all these photographed themselves on
+Lucia's memory as the first-seen features of that new world where her
+life was henceforth to be passed.
+
+At last, when nearly all their fellow-passengers had bidden them
+good-bye and left the ship, they saw a gentleman coming on board whom
+they both felt by some instinct to be Mr. Wynter. He was a portly,
+white-bearded man, as strange to Mrs. Costello as to Lucia, for the last
+twenty years had totally changed him from the aspect she remembered and
+had described to her daughter. Perhaps his nature as well as his looks
+had grown more genial; at any rate, he had a warm and affectionate
+greeting for the strangers, and if he had any painful or embarrassing
+recollection such as agitated his cousin, he knew how perfectly to
+conceal them. He had arrived the day before, but on arriving had heard
+that the 'Atalanta' was not expected for twenty-four hours, so that the
+news of her being in port came to him quite unexpectedly. He explained
+all this as they stood on deck, and then hurried to see their luggage
+brought up, and to transfer them to the carriage he had brought from his
+hotel.
+
+Lucia felt herself happily released from her cares. She had no
+inclination to like, or depend upon, her future guardian; but without
+thinking about it, she allowed him to take the management of their
+affairs, and to fall into the same place as Mr. Strafford had occupied
+during their American journey.
+
+Only there was a difference; she was awake now, and hopeful, naturally
+pleased with all that was new and curious, and only kept from thorough
+light-heartedness by her mother's feeble and fatigued condition.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello seemed to grow stronger from the moment of their landing.
+Mr. Wynter decided without any hesitation that they should remain at
+Havre, at least until the next day. In the evening, therefore, they were
+sitting quietly together when the important question of a future
+residence for the mother and daughter came to be discussed.
+
+"I should like Lucia to see something of Paris," Mrs. Costello said,
+"and to do that we should be obliged to stay a considerable time; for,
+as you perceive, I am not strong enough to do much sight-seeing at
+present."
+
+"I see," Mr. Wynter answered, nodding gravely. "We might get you a nice
+little apartment there, and settle you for the winter; that would be
+the best plan. I suppose you don't mind cold?"
+
+"That depends entirely on the sort of cold. Yes; I think we should
+settle in Paris for a time, and then move into the country. Only I have
+a great fancy not to be more than a day's journey from England."
+
+"In which I sympathize with you. It will be very much more satisfactory
+to me to know that you are within a reasonable distance of us."
+
+Lucia sat and listened very contentedly to the talk of the elder people.
+To her, whose only experience of relationship, beyond her mother, was
+painful and mortifying, there was something she had not anticipated of
+novelty and comfort in this new state of affairs. Her cousin's tone of
+kinsmanship and friendliness was so genuine and unforced that she and
+her mother both accepted it naturally, and forgot for the moment that,
+to a little-minded man, such friendliness might have been difficult and
+perhaps impossible.
+
+They decided to start for Paris next morning, Mr. Wynter saying that he
+had arranged for a week's absence from England, and therefore would have
+plenty of time to see them fixed in their new residence before he left.
+Then the conversation glided to other subjects, and Lucia losing her
+interest in it, began to wonder where Percy was--whether they were again
+on the same continent--whether he would hear, through the Bellairs, of
+their movements--whether he thought of her. And from that point she went
+off in some indescribable maze of dreams, recollections, and wishes,
+through which there came, as if from a distance, the sound of voices
+talking about England--about Chester--about her mother's old home and
+old friends--and about her young cousins, the Wynters, and a visit they
+were to make to France when spring should have set in.
+
+In the midst of all, the sound of a great clock striking broke the
+stillness of the snowy streets, and, just after, a party of men passed,
+singing a clamorous French song, and stamping an accompaniment with
+their heavy shoes. Lucia smiled as she listened, and then sighed. In
+truth this was a new life, into which nothing of the old one could come
+except love and memory.
+
+Of course, they could not sleep that night. They missed the motion of
+the ship, which had lately lulled them; they could not shake off the
+impression of strangeness and feel sufficiently at home to forget
+themselves; and to Lucia, used to the healthy sleep of eighteen, this
+was a much more serious matter than to one who had kept as many vigils
+as Mrs. Costello. They appeared, therefore, in the morning to have
+changed characters; Lucia was pale and tired, Mrs. Costello seemed
+bright and refreshed.
+
+The rapid and uneventful journey to Paris ended, for the present, their
+wanderings. When, on the following day, they started out in search of
+apartments, Mrs. Costello looked round her in astonishment. More than
+twenty years ago she had really known something of the city; now there
+only seemed to be, here and there, an old landmark left to prove that it
+was not altogether a new and strange place. Lucia was delighted with
+everything. She no sooner saw the long line of the Champs Elysées than
+she declared that there, and nowhere else, their rooms must be found.
+
+"In the city, mamma," she said, "you could not breathe; and as for
+sleeping, you know what it was last night; and if we went further out,
+we should see nothing."
+
+Mrs. Costello was too pleased to see her daughter looking and speaking
+with something of her old liveliness to be inclined to oppose her
+fancies, only she said with a smile,
+
+"The Champs Elysées is expensive--remember that, Lucia--and I am going
+to make you keeper of the purse."
+
+"Very well, mamma, if it is too dear, of course there is no more to be
+said; but you don't object to our trying to get something here, do you?"
+
+"Decidedly not. Let us try by all means."
+
+They found apartments readily enough; but to find any suited to their
+means was, as Mrs. Costello anticipated, anything but an easy matter.
+Lucia began, before the morning was over, to realize the fact that their
+£400 a year, which had been a perfectly comfortable income in Canada,
+would require very careful management to afford them at all a suitable
+living in Paris.
+
+"It is only for a little while, though," she consoled herself. "In
+summer we shall be able to go into the country and find something much
+cheaper."
+
+So they continued their search, and at last found just what they wanted;
+though to do so, they had to mount so many stairs that Lucia was afraid
+her mother would be exhausted.
+
+"I do not think this will do, mamma," she said. "I should never dare to
+ask you to go out, because when you came in tired, you would have all
+this fatigue."
+
+But the rooms were comfortable and airy, and the difficulties of living
+"au cinquième" were considered on the whole to be surmountable; so the
+affair was settled. Then came the minor considerations of a new
+housekeeping, and Margery was heartily regretted; though what the good
+woman would have been able to do where she could neither understand nor
+make herself understood, would not have been easy to say. Even Mrs.
+Costello, who, in her youth, had had considerable practice in speaking
+French, found herself now and then at a loss; and as for Lucia, having
+only a sort of school-girl knowledge of the language, she instantly
+found her comprehension swept away in the flood of words poured upon her
+by every person she ventured to speak to. "Never mind, I shall soon
+learn," she said in the most valiant manner; but, alas! for the present,
+she was almost helpless, and Mrs. Costello had to arrange, bargain, and
+interpret for both.
+
+They wound up their day's business by a little shopping, which, like
+everything else, was new to Lucia. The splendid shops, lighted up in
+the early dusk of the winter afternoon, were as different as anything
+could be from the stores at Cacouna. A sudden desire to be possessed of
+a purse full of money, which she might empty in these enchanted palaces,
+was the immediate and natural effect of the occasion on the mind of such
+an unsophisticated visitor. She became, indeed, so completely lost in
+admiration, that her mother made her small purchases without being able
+to obtain anything but the vaguest and most unsatisfactory opinions on
+such trifling affairs.
+
+Mr. Wynter derived considerable amusement from watching his young cousin
+and future ward. He told his wife afterwards that he had begun the day's
+work entirely from a sense of duty towards poor Mary; but that for once
+he had found that kind of thing almost as amusing as women seemed to do.
+The young girl with her half-Indian nature, and wholly Canadian--ultra
+Canadian--bringing up, was so bright, simple, and naïve, that she was
+worth watching. Her wonderful beauty, and the unconscious grace of her
+father's people, kept her from ever appearing countrified or awkward;
+her simplicity was that of a lovely child, and was in no way discordant
+with the higher nature she had shown in the bitter troubles and
+perplexities of the past year. She felt safe now and hopeful,
+inconceivably, absurdly hopeful--yet there was this difference between
+the happiness of long ago and the happiness to-day, that then she
+_could_ not believe in sorrow, and now she only _would_ not.
+
+They went back to their hotel for another night. Next day they moved to
+the apartment they had taken, and submitted themselves to the
+ministrations of Claudine, their French version of Margery. Submitted is
+exactly the right word for Lucia's behaviour, at any rate. Claudine
+appeared to her to have an even greater than common facility of speech;
+it only needed a single hesitating phrase to open the floodgates, and
+let out a torrent. Accordingly, until her stock of available French
+should increase, Lucia decided to take everything with the utmost
+possible quietness. She would devote herself to her mother, and to
+becoming a little acquainted with Paris, and give Claudine the fewest
+possible occasions for eloquence.
+
+Before the two days which Mr. Wynter spent with them in their new
+dwelling were over, they had begun to feel tolerably settled. In fact,
+Lucia's spirits, raised by excitement, were beginning to droop a
+little, and her thoughts to make more and more frequent excursions in
+search of the friends from whom she was so widely separated. She thought
+most, it is true, of Percy, and her fancies about him were
+rose-coloured; but she thought, also, a little sadly, of the dear old
+home, and the Bellairs and Bella, and even Magdalen Scott, who had been
+an old acquaintance, if never a very dear friend. She had many wondering
+thoughts, too, about Maurice. Was he still in England? or was he in
+Canada? was he at sea? would he come over to see them? would he even
+know where to find them if he came? Of these last subjects she spoke
+freely to her mother, only she kept utter silence as to Percy. So it
+happened that Mrs. Costello, knowing her own estimate of her daughter's
+lover, and strangely forgetting not only how different Lucia's had been,
+but that in a nature essentially faithful, love increases instead of
+dying, through time and absence, comforted herself, and believed that
+all was now settled for the best. Neither Percy nor Maurice, it was
+evident, would ever be Lucia's husband. Nothing could be more
+satisfactory, therefore, than that she should have become indifferent
+to the one, and have only a sisterly affection for the other. And yet,
+with unconscious perversity, she was not satisfied. She allowed to
+herself that Maurice's conduct had been reasonable enough. He had
+accepted the common belief that Christian was the murderer of Dr.
+Morton; and the conclusion which naturally followed, that Christian's
+daughter, beautiful and good though she might be, was not a fit mistress
+for Hunsdon; to have done otherwise, would have been Quixotic. Yet in
+her heart she was bitterly disappointed. If he had but loved Lucia well
+enough to dare to take her with all her inherited shame, how richly he
+would have been rewarded when the cloud cleared away! Where would he
+find another like her? And now, since Maurice could change, who might
+ever be trusted?
+
+No doubt these meditations were romantic. If Mrs. Costello had been the
+mother of half-a-dozen children--a woman living in the midst of a busy,
+lively household, where motherly cares and castle-buildings had to be
+shared among three or four daughters--she would not have had time to
+occupy herself so intensely with the affairs of any one. As it was,
+however, this one girl was her life of life; she threw into her
+interests the hopes of youth and the experience of middle age. As Lucia
+grew up, she had watched with anxiety, with hope, and with fear, for the
+coming of that inevitable time when, either for good or evil, she must
+love. It had been her fancy that, if Lucia loved Maurice, all would be
+well; if she loved any other, all would be ill. But time had passed on,
+and brought change; not one thing had happened according to her
+anticipations. And she tried to believe that she was glad that it was
+so, while a shadow of dissatisfaction lay at the bottom of her heart.
+
+When Mr. Wynter left Paris, he did so with the comfortable conviction
+that his cousins were happily settled; and with the persuasion that, as
+they both appeared to have a fair share of common sense, they would soon
+forget their past troubles, and be just like other people.
+
+"I don't like Mary's state of health at present," he said to his wife;
+"and, if I am not mistaken, she thinks even worse of it than I do; but
+still, rest of mind and body may do a great deal; and now she is really
+a widow, and quite safe from any further annoyances, I dare say she will
+come round."
+
+"And her daughter?" asked Mrs. Wynter rather anxiously. "Do you think
+she would get on with the girls?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure, my dear. She is not much like them, certainly,
+or, indeed, like any English girl. She is wonderfully pretty, but quite
+Indian in looks."
+
+"Poor child! what a pity!"
+
+"I am not sure about that. She seems a good girl, and Mary says is the
+greatest comfort to her, so I suppose she is English at heart; and as
+for her black eyes, there is something very attractive about them."
+
+Mrs. Wynter sighed again. Lucia's beauty, of which it cannot be said
+that Mr. Wynter's account was overdrawn, lost all its advantages in her
+eyes by being of an Indian type. She could never quite persuade herself
+that her husband had not been walking about the streets of Paris with a
+handsome young squaw in skins and porcupine quills.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Poor Maurice! He came up the river early one glorious morning, and
+standing on the steamboat's deck watched for the first glimpse of the
+Cottage. His heart was beating so that he could scarcely see, but he
+knew just where to look, and what to look for. At this time of year
+there was no hope of seeing the fair figure watching on the verandah as
+it had done when he went away, but the curl of smoke from the chimney
+would satisfy him and prove that his darling was still in her old home.
+He watched eagerly, breathlessly. Everything was so bright, that his
+spirits had risen, and he felt almost certain he was in time. There, the
+last bend of the river was turned, and now the trees that grew about
+the Cottage and his father's house were visible--now the Cottage itself.
+But suddenly his heart seemed to grow still--there was the house, there
+was the garden where he and Lucia had worked, there was the slope where
+they had walked together that last evening--but all was desolate. No
+smoke rose from the chimney; and on the verandah, and on every ledge of
+the windows snow lay deep and undisturbed; the path to the river was
+choked and hidden, and by the little gate the drift had piled itself up
+in a high smooth mound. Desolate!
+
+When the boat stopped at the wharf, there were happily few people about.
+Maurice left his portmanteau, and taking the least public way hurried
+off homewards. It was too late--that was his only thought; to see his
+father, to know when they went, and if possible whither--his only
+desire. He strode along the road, seeing and thinking of nothing but
+Lucia. There was one chance, they might not yet have left Canada. But
+then that ship, and the curious sense of Lucia's nearness which he had
+felt when they passed it; she must have been on board! He felt as if he
+should go mad when he came to his father's gate and saw all looking just
+as usual, quite calm and peaceful under the broad wintry sunshine. He
+had only just sense enough at the very last minute to remember that his
+father was an invalid to whom the joy of his coming might be a dangerous
+shock. As he thought of this he turned round the corner of the house,
+and in a moment walked into the kitchen where Mrs. George, the old
+housekeeper, was busy washing up the breakfast-things.
+
+"Law, Mr. Maurice!" cried Mrs. George, and dropped her teacup and her
+cloth together--happily both on the table.
+
+Coming into the familiar room, and seeing the familiar face, brought the
+young man a little to himself. He held his impatience in check while he
+received Mrs. George's welcome, answered her questions, and asked some
+in return. Then he sent her in to tell his father of his arrival, and
+began to walk up and down the kitchen while she was away.
+
+In a minute or two she came out of the sitting-room, and he went in. Mr.
+Leigh had had his own troubled thoughts lately, but he forgot them all
+when he saw his son. Just at first there was only the sudden agitating
+joy of the meeting--the happiness of seeing Maurice so well--so
+thoroughly himself and yet improved--of seeing him at home again; but
+then came trouble.
+
+"So they are gone?" he said almost interrupting the first greetings, and
+the old man instantly knew that all his fancies had been a mistake, and
+that Maurice had come back to find Lucia.
+
+And they were gone; and he himself had been a coward and a traitor, and
+had distrusted his own son and let them go away distrusting him! He saw
+it now too late. A painful embarrassment seized him.
+
+"Yes," he said hesitatingly. "They went a week ago."
+
+"By New York?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In the 'Atalanta' for Havre?"
+
+"Yes. How did you know?"
+
+"I did not know. I only guessed. Where are they gone?"
+
+"I do not know. Mrs. Costello said their plans were so uncertain that
+she could not tell me."
+
+"Yet I should have thought, sir, that so old a friend as you might have
+had a right to be told what her plans were?"
+
+"She told no one--except that they would not stay long in any one place
+at present."
+
+Maurice walked to the window and sighed impatiently.
+
+"A pleasant prospect!" he said, "They may be at the other end of Europe
+before I can get back."
+
+He stood for a minute looking out, and tapping impatiently with his
+fingers on the window-sill, while Mr. Leigh watched him, troubled, and a
+little inclined to be angry. When he turned round again he had made up
+his mind that it was no use to get out of temper, a pretty sure proof
+that he was so already, and that the first thing to do was to find out
+exactly what his father and everybody else knew about the Costellos. He
+sat down, accordingly, with a sort of desperate impatient patience, and
+began a cross-examination.
+
+"Did they leave no message for me?"
+
+"Nothing in particular. All sorts of kind remembrances; Lucia said you
+would be sure to meet some day."
+
+"Did they never speak of seeing you in England?"
+
+"Never. On the contrary, my impression is that they had no intention of
+going to England."
+
+"That is strange; yet if they had they would scarcely have gone by
+Havre, unless to avoid all chance of meeting me."
+
+"Why should they do that?"
+
+Maurice said nothing, he only changed his position and looked at his
+father. Mr. Leigh had asked the question suddenly, with the first dawn
+of a new idea in his mind, but at his son's silent answer he shrank back
+in his chair breathless with dismay. So after all he _had_ been a
+traitor! With his mistaken fancies about change and absence, he had been
+doing all he could to destroy the very scheme that was dearest to him,
+and which he now saw was dearest to Maurice also. And he knew now that
+there had been something in Mrs. Costello's manner lately less friendly
+to Maurice than was usual. He had done mischief which might be
+irreparable. Guilty and miserable, he naturally began to defend himself.
+
+"If you had only told me!" he said feebly.
+
+"I had nothing to tell, sir. I went away, as you remember, almost at a
+moment's notice, to please you and my grandfather. I could not speak to
+Lucia then, because--for various reasons; but I know that Mrs. Costello
+was my friend. Afterwards she wrote to me when poor Morton was killed,
+and told me some story I could not very well make out, but which of
+course made no difference to me. Then came another letter with all the
+truth about her marriage, which she seemed to think conclusive, and
+which wound up by saying that she meant to take Lucia away--hide her
+from me in fact. My grandfather was very ill then, and I had no time to
+write to her, but my message just after his death was plain enough, I
+thought--what did she say to it?"
+
+Mr. Leigh dropped his eyes slowly from his son's face, and put his hand
+confusedly to his head.
+
+"What was it?" he said. "I can't remember."
+
+"Only two or three words. Just that all she could say did not alter the
+case, or alter me."
+
+This was rather a free rendering of the original message, but it was
+near enough and significant enough for Mr. Leigh to be quite sure he had
+never heard such words before. They would have given him just that key
+to his son's heart which he had longed for.
+
+"You must be mistaken," he answered. "I never received such a message as
+that."
+
+"It was a postscript. I had meant to write to her and had not time."
+
+"You must have forgotten. You meant to send it."
+
+"I sent it, I am certain. Have you my letters?"
+
+"Yes. They are in that drawer."
+
+Maurice opened the drawer where all his letters had been lovingly
+arranged in order. He remembered the look of the one he wanted and
+picked it out instantly.
+
+"There it is, sir," he said, and held out to his father those two
+important lines, still unread. Mr. Leigh looked at the paper and then at
+Maurice.
+
+"I never saw it," he replied. "How could I have missed it?"
+
+"Heaven knows! It is plain enough. And my note, which came in the letter
+before that; it was never answered. _That_ may have miscarried too?"
+
+"There was no note, Maurice, my dear boy; there was no note. I wondered
+there was not."
+
+"And yet I wrote one."
+
+Maurice was looking at his father in grievous perplexity and vexation,
+when he suddenly became aware of the nervous tremor the old man was in.
+He went up to him hastily, with a quick impulse of shame and tenderness.
+
+"Forgive me, father," he said. "I forgot myself and you. Only you cannot
+know the miserable anxiety I have been in lately. Now tell me whether it
+is true that you are stronger than when I left?"
+
+He sat down by the easy-chair and tried to talk to his father as if Mrs.
+Costello and Lucia had no existence; but Mr. Leigh, though he outwardly
+took courage to enjoy all the gladness of their union, was troubled at
+heart. It was a grievous disappointment, this coming home of which so
+much had been said and thought. No one could have guessed that the young
+man had been out into the world to seek his fortune, and had come back
+laden with gold, or that the older had just won back again the very
+light of his eyes.
+
+Anxious as Maurice had been to avoid notice at the moment of his arrival
+at Cacouna, he had been seen and recognized on the wharf, and the news
+of his coming carried to Mr. Bellairs before he had been an hour at
+home. So it happened that while the father and son sat together in the
+afternoon, and were already discussing the first arrangements for their
+return to England, a sleigh drove briskly up to the door, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Bellairs came in full of welcomes and congratulations.
+
+"I knew we might come to-day," Mrs. Bellairs said, still holding her
+favourite's hand and scanning his face with her bright eyes. "We shall
+not stay long, but it is pleasant to see you home again, Maurice."
+
+"Don't say too many kind things, Mrs. Bellairs," he answered, "or you
+will make me want to stay when I ought to be going."
+
+"Going! You are surely not talking of that yet?"
+
+"Indeed I am. We hope to be away in a fortnight."
+
+"Oh! if you _hope_ it, there is no more to be said."
+
+"If you knew how I have hoped to be here, and how disappointed I have
+been to-day, you would not be so hard on me."
+
+They had both sat down now and were a little apart, for the moment, from
+the others. Mrs. Bellairs was surprised at Maurice's words, though she
+understood instantly what he meant. He had never before given her a
+single hint in words of his love for Lucia, though she had been
+perfectly aware of it. She guessed now that his grandfather's death had
+changed his wishes into intentions, and that since he was in a position
+to offer Lucia a share of his own good fortune, he no longer cared to
+make any secret of his feelings towards her.
+
+"You did not expect that our friends would be gone," she asked in a tone
+which expressed the sympathy she felt and yet could not be taken as
+inquisitive. As for Maurice, he wanted to speak out his trouble to
+somebody, and was glad of this result of his little impetuous speech.
+
+"I was altogether uncertain," he answered; "I wanted to start from
+England a week sooner, and if I had done so, it seems, I should have
+found them here; but I was hindered, and for some reason or other, they
+chose to keep me in the dark as to their intentions."
+
+"Lucia often talked of you and of her regret at going away just when you
+were expected."
+
+"She did? Do you know where they are?"
+
+"No; and that is the strangest thing. I believe their plans were not
+quite fixed; but still Mrs. Costello was not a woman to start away into
+the world without plans of some kind, and yet no one in Cacouna knows
+more than that they sailed from New York to Havre."
+
+"It is incomprehensible, except on one supposition. Did you ever hear
+Mrs. Costello speak of my return?"
+
+"Not particularly. Don't be offended, Maurice, either with her or with
+me, but I did fancy once or twice that she wished to be away before you
+came. Only, mind, that is simply my fancy."
+
+"I have no doubt you fancied right; but I have a thousand questions to
+ask you. Tell me first--"
+
+"Maurice," interrupted Mr. Bellairs from the other side of the room,
+"what is this your father says about going away immediately? You can't
+be in earnest in such a scheme!"
+
+"I am afraid I am," Maurice answered, getting up and standing with his
+arm resting on the mantelpiece, "at least, if my father can stand the
+journey."
+
+Mr. Leigh, full of self-reproach and secret disturbance, vowed that the
+journey would do him good; that he was eager to see the old country once
+again. He had resolved, as the penance for his blunder, that he would
+not be the means of hindering his boy one day in his quest for Lucia.
+Nevertheless, the discussion grew warm, for Mr. Bellairs having vainly
+protested against a winter voyage for the Costellos, had his arguments
+all ready and in order, and had no scruple in bringing them to bear upon
+Maurice. Of course, they were thrown away, just so many wasted words;
+the angry impatient longing that was in the young man's heart would have
+been strong enough to overthrow all the arguments in the universe. Only
+one reason would have been strong enough to keep him--his father's
+unfitness for travel; and that could not fairly be urged, for Mr. Leigh
+was actually in better health than he had been for years, and would not
+himself listen to a word on the subject.
+
+Just before the visitors left, Maurice found an opportunity of asking
+Mrs. Bellairs one of his "thousand questions."
+
+"Mr. Strafford, of Moose Island, was Mrs. Costello's great adviser, does
+not he know?"
+
+"No; I wrote to him, and got his answer this morning. He only knew they
+would probably stay some time in France."
+
+She was just going out to get into the sleigh as she spoke. Suddenly
+with her foot on the step she stopped,
+
+"Stay! I have the address of a friend, a cousin, I think, of Mrs.
+Costello's in England. Mr. Strafford sent it to me."
+
+"Thanks, thanks. I shall see you in the morning."
+
+Maurice went back joyfully into the house. Here was a clue. Now, oh, to
+be off and able to make use of it!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Before going to bed on the very night of his arrival, Maurice found the
+list of steamers, and with his father's approbation fixed upon one which
+was advertised to sail in a few days over a fortnight from that time. It
+happened to be a vessel the comfortable accommodation of which had been
+specially praised by some experienced travellers, his fellow-passengers
+in the 'India,' and the advantages of going by it being quite evident,
+served to satisfy what small scruples of conscience Mr. Bellairs had
+been able to awaken. He wrote, therefore, to secure berths and put his
+letter ready to be taken into Cacouna next morning, when he should go to
+pay his promised visit to Mrs. Bellairs.
+
+It was early when Maurice awoke; he did so with a sense of having much
+to do, but the aspect of his own old room, so strange now and yet so
+familiar, kept him dreaming for a few minutes before that important
+day's work could be begun. How bare and angular it seemed, how shabby
+and poor the furniture! It never had been anything but a boy's room of
+the simplest sort, and yet it had many happy and some few sad
+associations, such as no other room could ever have for him. He recalled
+the long ago days when his brother and he had shared it together, and
+their mother used to come in softly at night to look that her two sons
+were safe and well,--the later years, when mother and brother were both
+gone, and he himself sat there alone reading or writing far into the
+night. He thought of the many summer mornings when he had opened his
+window to watch for the movement of Lucia's curtain, or for the glimpse
+of her girlish figure moving about under the light shadows of the
+acacias in the Cottage garden.
+
+But when he came to that point in his meditation, he sprang up
+impatiently, and the uncomfortable irritating feeling that he had been
+unfairly dealt with, tricked, in fact, began to take possession of him
+again. However, it only acted as a stimulant. He began to feel that he
+had entered into the lists with Mrs. Costello, and, regarding her as a
+faithless ally, was not a little disposed to do battle with her _à
+l'outrance_, and carry off Lucia for revenge as well as for love.
+
+Directly after breakfast he had out the little red sleigh in which last
+winter he had so often driven his old playfellow to and from Cacouna,
+and started alone. He had many visits of friendship or business to pay,
+but he could not resist going first to Mrs. Bellairs.
+
+After all, now that the first sharpness of his disappointment was over,
+it was pleasant to be at home and to meet friendly faces at every turn.
+He had to stop again and again to exchange greetings with people on the
+road, and even sometimes to receive congratulations on being a "rich man
+now," "a lucky fellow"--congratulations which were both spoken and
+listened to as much as if the lands of Hunsdon were a fairy penny, in
+the virtues of which neither speaker nor hearer had any very serious
+belief. In fact, there was something odd and incredible in the idea that
+this was no longer plain Maurice Leigh, the most popular and one of the
+poorest members of this small Backwoods world, but Maurice Leigh
+Beresford, of Hunsdon, an English country gentleman rich enough, if he
+chose, to buy up the whole settlement.
+
+Maurice went on his way, however, little troubled by his new dignity,
+and found Mrs. Bellairs and Bella expecting him. They had guessed that
+he would not delay coming for the promised address, and Mr. Strafford's
+note containing it lay ready on the table; but when he came into the
+room their visitor did actually for the moment forget his errand in
+seeing the sombre black-robed figure which had taken the place of the
+gay Bella Latour. He had gone away just before her wedding, he had left
+her happy, bright, mischievous,--a girl whom sorrow had never touched,
+who seemed incapable of understanding what trouble meant; he came back,
+full of his own perplexities and disappointments, and found her one so
+seized upon by grief that it had grown into her nature, and clothed and
+crowned her with its sad pre-eminence. There was no ostentation of
+mourning about the young widow, it is true, but none the less Maurice in
+looking at her first forgot himself utterly, and then remembered his
+impatience and ill-humour with more shame than was at all agreeable.
+
+To Bella also the meeting was a painful one. Of all her friends, Maurice
+was the only one who was associated with her girlish happiness, and
+quite dissociated from her married life and its tragic ending. The sight
+of him, therefore, renewed for the moment the recollections which she
+had taught herself to keep as much as possible for her solitary hours,
+and almost disturbed the calm she had forced upon herself in the
+presence of others.
+
+Mrs. Bellairs, however, used to her sister's calamity and ignorant of
+Maurice's feelings, did not long delay referring to the Costellos.
+
+"Here is Mr. Strafford's note," she said. "I wrote and begged of him to
+tell me by what means a letter would be likely to reach them, and this
+is his answer."
+
+It was only a few lines, saying that Mrs. Costello had told him
+expressly that she should remain for some time in France, and would
+write to her Canadian friends as soon as she had any settled home, but
+that in the meantime he believed her movements would be known by her
+relative, Mr. Wynter, whose address he enclosed.
+
+Maurice, whose anxiety was revived by the sight of this missive,
+examined it with as much care as if he expected to extract more
+information from it than in reality the writer possessed, but he was
+obliged to content himself with copying the address and giving the
+warmest thanks to Mrs. Bellairs for the help he thus gained.
+
+"I suppose," she asked smiling, "that I may entrust you with a message
+for Lucia?"
+
+Maurice looked rather foolish. He certainly did mean to follow up the
+clue in person, but he had not said so, and he fancied Mrs. Bellairs was
+inclined to laugh at him for his romance.
+
+"I will carry it if you do," he answered, "but I do not promise when it
+will be delivered."
+
+"You are really going to England at the time you spoke of last night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And from England to France is not much of a journey?"
+
+"No; and I have not seen Paris yet."
+
+"Ah! well, you will go over and meet with them, and rejoice poor Lucia's
+heart with the sight of a home face."
+
+"Shall I? Will they be homesick, do you think?"
+
+"_They?_ I don't know. _She_ will, I think--do not you, Bella?"
+
+"At all events, she went away with her mind full of the idea that she
+would be sure to see you before long."
+
+Perhaps this speech was not absolutely true, but Maurice liked Bella
+better than ever as she said it. He got up soon after, and went his way
+with a lighter heart about those various calls which must be made, and
+which were pleasant enough now that he saw his way tolerably clear
+before him with regard to that other and always most important piece of
+business.
+
+When he got home he set himself to consider whether it were better to
+write boldly to Mr. Wynter and ask for news of the travellers, or
+whether to wait, and after taking his father to Hunsdon run over himself
+to Chester, and make his request in person. There was little to be
+gained by writing, for Mr. Wynter's answer, even if it were
+satisfactory, would have to be sent to Hunsdon, and there wait his
+arrival, while Mrs. Costello would have plenty of time to hear of his
+application, and to baffle him if she wished to do so. He quickly
+decided, therefore, to do nothing until he could go himself to Chester,
+and from thence direct to the place, wherever that might be, where Lucia
+was to be found.
+
+Mr. Leigh's day, meanwhile, had been far less comfortable than
+Maurice's. He had made a pretence of looking over papers, and arranging
+various small affairs in readiness for their voyage, but his mind all
+the while had been occupied with two or three questions. Had Maurice
+really sent to him a note for Mrs. Costello which by any carelessness of
+his had been lost? Had the change he remembered in her manner been
+connected with the loss? Had Lucia cared for Maurice? Had either mother
+or daughter thought so ill of Maurice as he, his own father, had done?
+The poor old man tormented himself, much as a woman might have done,
+with these speculations, but he dared not breathe a word of them. He
+even went so far in his self-accusations and self-disgust as to imagine
+that if he had been his son's faithful helper, he might have prevented
+that flight from the Cottage which had caused so much trouble and
+vexation.
+
+Still, when Maurice came home full of energy and hope, and anxious to
+atone for his unreasonableness of the previous day, the aspect of
+affairs brightened a good deal, and the evening passed happily with
+both.
+
+But after that first day a certain amount of disturbance began to be
+felt in the household. People came and went perpetually. There was so
+much to be done, and so little time to do it in; and there was not only
+the actual business of moving, but innumerable claims from old friends
+were made upon Maurice, all of which had to be satisfied one way or
+other.
+
+And the days flew by so quickly. Maurice congratulated himself again and
+again on having provided so good a reason for leaving Cacouna at a
+certain time. "Our berths are taken," was a conclusive answer to all
+proposals of delay; and if it had not been for that, he often thought it
+would have been impossible to have held to his purpose. But as it was,
+all engagements, whatever they might be, had to be pressed into the
+short space of a fortnight, and under the double impulse of Maurice's
+own energies, and of that irrevocable _must_, things went on fast and
+prosperously.
+
+It was well for Mr. Leigh that these last weeks in his old home were so
+full of hurry and excitement, and that he was supported by the presence
+of his son, and by the thought that he was fulfilling what would have
+been the desire of his much-beloved and long-lost wife; for the pain of
+parting for ever from the places where so many years of happiness and of
+sorrow had been spent--from the birthplace of his children, and the
+graves which were sacred to his heart, grew at times very bitter, and
+needed all his absorbing love for his last remaining child, to make it
+endurable. It is quite true, however, that at other times, the idea of
+meeting his old neighbour of the Cottage in that far-away and
+half-forgotten England, and of seeing Maurice and Lucia once more
+together, as he could not help but hope they would be, cheered him into
+positive hopefulness and eagerness to be gone.
+
+Two days before their actual leaving, it was necessary for the household
+to be broken up. Maurice wished to go for the interval to a hotel.
+Cacouna had two,--long gaunt wooden buildings supposed to be possessed
+of "every accommodation,"--but so many voices were instantly raised
+against this plan, that it had to be given up, and Mrs. Bellairs, with
+great rejoicing, carried off both father and son from half-a-dozen
+other claimants. Literally, she only carried off Mr. Leigh, for Maurice,
+who had entirely resumed his Canadian habits, was still deep in the
+business of packing and of seeing to the arrangements for the morrow's
+sale; but he had promised to have his work finished before evening, and
+to join them in good time in Cacouna.
+
+As Mrs. Bellairs drove Mr. Leigh home in her own sleigh, flourishing the
+whip harmlessly over Bob's ears and making him clash all his silver
+bells at once with the tossing of his head, she could not help saying,
+
+"Don't you think now Maurice is such a rich man he ought to marry soon?"
+
+Her companion looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"Perhaps he is thinking of it," he answered.
+
+"When he is married," she went on with a little laugh, "he has promised
+to invite us to England."
+
+But Mr. Leigh did not smile.
+
+"I hope you will come soon, then," he said.
+
+"You think there is a chance?"
+
+"I think it will not be his fault if there is not."
+
+"And I think he is not likely to find the lady very obstinate."
+
+"What lady? _Any_ one or one in particular?"
+
+"I thought of one, certainly."
+
+"Lucia Costello?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You think she would marry him?"
+
+"Why not? Yes, I think so."
+
+"And her mother?"
+
+"Ah! I don't know; Mrs. Costello has a will of her own."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+In the old days there had been a sort of antagonism between Bella Latour
+and Maurice Leigh. They had necessarily seen a great deal of each other,
+and liked each other after a certain fashion; but Maurice had thought
+Bella too flighty, and inclined to fastness; and Bella had been
+half-seriously, half-playfully disposed to resent his judgment of her.
+But now, either because of the complete change in her character which
+the last few months had wrought, or from some other cause, Mrs. Morton
+and Maurice fell into a kind of confidential intimacy quite new to their
+intercourse. It was only for two days, certainly, but during those two
+days, and in spite of Maurice's occupations, they had time for several
+long and very interesting conversations.
+
+In the first of these, which had begun upon some indifferent subject,
+Bella surprised Maurice by alluding, quite calmly and simply, to the
+imprisonment of the unfortunate Indian, Lucia's father. He had naturally
+supposed that a subject so closely connected with her own misfortunes
+would have been too deeply painful to be a permitted one, and had,
+therefore, with care, avoided all allusion to it. In this, however, he
+did not do her full justice. The truth was, that in her deep interest in
+the Costellos, she had quietly forced herself to think and speak of the
+whole train of events which affected them, without dwelling on its
+connection with her own story. She never spoke of her husband--her
+self-command was not yet strong enough for that--nor of Clarkson; but of
+Christian, as the victim of a false accusation, she talked to Maurice
+without hesitation.
+
+Up to that time there had been no very vivid idea in his mind either of
+Christian himself, or of the way in which he had spent the months of his
+imprisonment, and finally died. Indeed, in the constant change and
+current of nearer interests, he had thought little, after the first,
+about this unknown father of his beloved. He had considered the matter
+until it led him just so far as to make up his mind, quite easily and
+without evidence, that Clarkson was probably the murderer, and that
+Christian, whether innocent or guilty, was not to be allowed to separate
+him from Lucia, and then, after that point, he ceased to think of
+Christian at all. But now, he received from Bella the little details,
+such as no letters could have told him, of the weeks since her husband's
+death--chiefly of the later ones, and there were many reasons why these
+details had a charm for him which made him want to hear more, the more
+he heard. In the first place she spoke constantly of Lucia, and it
+scarcely needed a lover's fancy to enable him to perceive how in this
+time of trial she had been loving, helpful, wise even, beyond what
+seemed to belong to the sweet but wilful girl of his recollection. He
+listened with new thoughts of her, and a love which had more of respect,
+as Bella described those bitter days of which Lucia had told her later,
+when neither mother nor daughter dared to believe in the innocence of
+the accused man, and when, the one for love, the other for obedience,
+they kept their secret safe in their trembling hearts, and tried to go
+in and out before the world as if they had no secret to keep.
+
+"Lucia used to come to me every day. I was ill, and her visits were my
+great pleasure; she came and talked or read to me, with her mind full
+all the while of that horrible idea."
+
+"She knew that it was her father?" asked Maurice. "I wonder Mrs.
+Costello, after having kept the truth from Lucia so long, should have
+told her all just then."
+
+Bella looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"She had told her before anything of this happened," she answered. "I
+believe Lucia herself was the first to suspect that the prisoner was her
+father."
+
+"And how did they find out?"
+
+"Mr. Strafford went and visited him."
+
+"Did you ever see him?"
+
+"No. Elise did for a few minutes just before his death; but I have heard
+so much about him that I can scarcely persuade myself I never did see
+him."
+
+"They were both with him at last?"
+
+"Yes. Poor Lucia never saw him till then."
+
+"Tell me about it, please."
+
+She obeyed, and told all that had happened both within her own knowledge
+and at the jail, on the night of Christian's death and the day preceding
+it. Her calmness was a little shaken when she had to refer to Clarkson's
+confession, though she did so very slightly, but she recovered herself
+and went on with her story, simply repeating for the most part what
+Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs had told her at the time. When she had finished,
+Maurice remained silent. He had shaded his eyes with his hand, and when,
+after a minute's pause, he looked up again to ask her another question,
+she saw that he had been deeply touched by the picture she had drawn.
+
+But Bella was really doing her friends a double service by thus talking
+to Maurice. It was not only that Lucia grew if possible dearer than ever
+to him from these conversations, but there was something--though Maurice
+himself would not have admitted it--in making Lucia's father an object
+of interest and sympathy, instead of leaving him a kind of dark but
+inevitable blot on the history of the future bride.
+
+On the evening before Mr. Leigh and his son were to start for England,
+as many as possible of their old friends were gathered together at Mr.
+Bellairs' for a farewell meeting. Every one there had known the
+Costellos; every one remembered how Maurice and Lucia had been
+perpetually associated together at all Cacouna parties; every one,
+therefore, naturally thought of Lucia, and she was more frequently
+spoken of than she had been at all since she left. It seemed also to be
+taken for granted that Maurice would see her somewhere before long, and
+he was entrusted with innumerable messages both to her and her mother.
+
+"But," he remonstrated, "you forget that I am going to England, and that
+they are in France--at least, that it is supposed so."
+
+"Oh! yes," he was answered, "but you will be sure to see them; don't
+forget the message when you do."
+
+At last he gave up making any objection, and determined to believe what
+everybody said. It was a pleasant augury, at any rate, and he was glad
+to accept it for a true one.
+
+When all the visitors were gone, and the household had retired for the
+night, Mr. Bellairs and his former pupil sat together over the
+drawing-room fire for one last chat. Their talk wandered over all sorts
+of subjects--small incidents of law business--the prospects of some
+Cacouna men who had gone to British Columbia--the voyage to England--the
+position of Hunsdon--and Maurice had been persuading his host to come
+over next summer for a holiday, when by some chance Percy was alluded
+to.
+
+"You have not seen or heard anything of him, I suppose?" Mr. Bellairs
+asked.
+
+"Yes, indeed, I have," Maurice answered, slowly stirring the poker about
+in the ashes as he spoke. "I met him only the other day in London."
+
+"Met him? Where?"
+
+"On a doorstep----," and he proceeded to describe their meeting.
+
+"I suppose you have heard of his marriage by this time."
+
+"No. I heard from Edward Graham, an old friend of mine, that he was
+going to be married, but that is the latest news I have of him."
+
+"Oh, well, Payne may have made a mistake. He told me it was coming off
+in a day or two."
+
+"As likely as not. He might not think it worth while to send us any
+notice."
+
+"The puppy! I beg your pardon, I forgot he was your cousin."
+
+"You need not apologise on that score. There is not much love lost
+between us; and as for Elise, I never knew her inclined to be
+inhospitable to anybody but him."
+
+"Was she to him?"
+
+"She was heartily glad to see the last of him, and so I suspect were
+some other people."
+
+"What people?"
+
+"Mrs. Costello for one. He was more at the Cottage than she seemed to
+like."
+
+Maurice hesitated, but could not resist asking a question.
+
+"Was he as much there afterwards as he was before the time I left?"
+
+"More, I think. Look here, Maurice; Elise first put it into my head that
+he was running after Lucia, but I saw it plainly enough myself
+afterwards, and I know you saw it too. I think we are old enough friends
+for me to speak to you on such a subject. Well, my belief is, that
+before Percy went away, he proposed to Lucia."
+
+"Proposed? Impossible!"
+
+"I don't know about that. He was really in love with her in his
+fashion--which is not yours, or mine."
+
+"And she?"
+
+"Must have refused him, for he went away in a kind of amazed ruefulness,
+which even you would have pitied."
+
+Maurice looked the reverse of pitiful for a moment.
+
+"But that is all supposition," he said.
+
+"Granted. But a supposition founded on pretty close observation. Only
+mind, I do not say Lucia might not be a little sorry herself. You were
+away, and a girl does not lose a handsome fellow like Percy, who has
+been following her about everywhere as if he were her pet dog, without
+feeling the loss more or less. At least that is my idea."
+
+"He has soon consoled himself."
+
+"My dear fellow, everybody can't step into possession of £10,000 a year
+all at once. Most people have to do something for a living, and the only
+thing Percy could do was to marry."
+
+They said good-night soon after this, and went upstairs, Maurice
+blessing the Fates which seemed determined to give him all possible hope
+and encouragement. Only he could not quite understand this idea of Mr.
+Bellairs'. He could imagine anybody, even Percy, being so far carried
+away by Lucia's beauty as to forget prudence for the moment; but he
+could not help but feel that it was improbable that Percy would have
+gone so far as to propose to Lucia unless he were sure she would say
+yes. Why, then, had she not said yes?
+
+Next morning the last farewells had to be said--the last look taken at
+the old home. Night found father and son far on their way to New York,
+and Maurice's eagerness all renewed by this fresh start upon his quest.
+
+There was little of novelty in the journey or the voyage. There were the
+usual incidents of winter travelling--the hot, stifling car--the snowy
+country stretching out mile after mile from morning till night--the
+hotels, which seemed strangely comfortless for an invalid--and then the
+great city with its noise and bustle, and the steamer where they had
+nothing to do but to wait.
+
+And, at last, there was England. There was the Mersey and Liverpool,
+looking, as they came in, much as if the accumulated dirt of the three
+kingdoms had been bestowed there, but brightening up into a different
+aspect when they had fairly landed and left the docks behind them. For
+it was a lovely March day--only the second or third of the month it is
+true,--and winter, which they had left in full possession in Canada,
+seemed to be over here, and the warm sunny air so invigorated Mr. Leigh
+that he would not hear Maurice's proposal to rest until next day, but
+insisted on setting out at once for Norfolk.
+
+As they drove to the railway they passed the jeweller's shop where
+Maurice had bought Lucia's ring. Alas! it still lay in his pocket, where
+he had carried it ever since that day--when would it find its
+destination? He was not going to be disheartened now, however. He was
+glad of the little disturbance to his thoughts of having to take tickets
+and see his father comfortably placed, and at the very last moment he
+was just able to seize upon a _Times_, and set himself to reading it as
+if he had never been out of England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Maurice had telegraphed from Liverpool, and the old-fashioned carriage
+from Hunsdon met them at the last railway station. It was near sunset,
+and under a clear sky the soft rich green of the grass gleamed out with
+the brightness of spring. They soon turned into the park, and the house
+itself began to be visible through the budding, but still leafless,
+trees. Both father and son were silent. To the one, every foot of the
+road they traversed was haunted by the memories of thirty years ago; to
+the other, this coming home was a step towards the fulfilment of his
+hopes. They followed their own meditations, glad or sorrowful, until the
+last curve was turned, and they stopped before the great white pillars
+of the portico. Then Maurice remembered that this was his first coming
+home as master, and felt a momentary shyness take possession of him
+before his own new importance. He had been able during his absence to
+keep Hunsdon so much in the background, and to be so thoroughly the
+natural, portionless, Maurice Leigh. He jumped out of the carriage,
+however, and was too much occupied in helping his father, to think, for
+the next few minutes, of his own sensations at all. Then he discovered
+what he had not before thought about--that there were still two or three
+of the old servants who remembered his mother and her marriage, and who
+were eager to be recognised by "the Captain."
+
+And so the coming home was got over, and Mr. Leigh was fairly settled in
+the house from which so long ago he had stolen away his wife. After he
+had once taken possession of his rooms--the very ones which had been
+hers,--he seemed to think no more about Canada, but to be quite content
+with the new link to the past which supplied the place of his accustomed
+associations. And, perhaps, he felt the change all the less because of
+that inclination to return to the recollections of youth rather than of
+middle age, which seems so universal with the old.
+
+Maurice sent over a messenger to Dighton to announce their arrival, and
+to tell his cousin that he intended leaving home again after one day's
+interval. That one day was fully occupied, but, as he had half expected,
+in the afternoon Lady Dighton came over.
+
+She knew already of his disappointment, and had sympathised with it. She
+came now with the kind intention of establishing such friendly relations
+with Mr. Leigh as would make Maurice more comfortable in leaving his
+father alone. She even proposed to carry the old man off to Dighton, but
+that was decided against.
+
+"And you really start to-morrow?" she asked Maurice.
+
+"Early to-morrow morning. I cannot imagine what the railway-makers have
+been thinking about; it will take me the whole day to get to Chester."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Oh! there are about a dozen changes of line, and, of course, an hour to
+wait each time."
+
+"Cut off the exaggeration, and it is provoking enough. Is it in Chester
+this gentleman lives?"
+
+"No, three or four miles away, I fancy. I shall have to inquire when I
+get there."
+
+"And after you find him what will you do?"
+
+"If I get their address, I shall go straight from Mr. Wynter to them,
+wherever they are."
+
+"At St. Petersburg, perhaps, or Constantinople?"
+
+"Don't, Louisa, please. I thought you had some pity for one's
+perplexities."
+
+"So I have. And I believe, myself, that they are in Paris."
+
+"I wish they may be--that is, if I get any satisfaction from my
+inquiries. Otherwise, Paris is not exactly a place where one would
+choose to set about seeking for a lost friend, especially with about
+half-a-dozen sentences of available French."
+
+"Never fear. But if you should not find them, I would not mind going
+over for a week or two to help you; I should be of some use as an
+interpreter."
+
+"Will you come? Not for that; but if I do find them, I should so like to
+introduce Lucia to you."
+
+"To tell the truth, I am rather afraid of this paragon of yours; and you
+will be bringing her to see me."
+
+"I am afraid I am making too sure of that without your telling me so.
+After all, I may have my search for nothing. I do wish very much you
+would come over."
+
+"Well, at Easter we will see. Perhaps I may coax Sir John over for a
+week or two."
+
+"Thank you. I shall depend on that."
+
+"But remember you must send me word how you fare."
+
+"I will write the moment I have anything to tell."
+
+"Impress upon your father, Maurice, that we wish to do all we can for
+his comfort. I wish he would have come to us."
+
+"I think he is better here. Everything here reminds him of my mother,
+and he feels at home. But I shall feel that I leave him in your hands,
+my kind cousin."
+
+Maurice bade his father good-bye that night, and early next morning he
+started on his journey to Chester. What a journey it was! His account to
+Lady Dighton had been exaggerated certainly, but was not without
+foundation. Again and again he found himself left behind, chafing and
+restless, by some train which had carried him for, perhaps, an hour, and
+obliged to amuse himself as best he could until a fresh one came, in
+which he would travel another equally short stage. It was a windy,
+rainy day, with gleams of sunshine, but more of cloud and shower, and
+grew more and more stormy as it drew towards night. Before he reached
+Chester the wind had risen to a storm, and sheets of rain were being
+dashed fiercely against the carriage windows. At last they did roll into
+the station with as much noise and importance as if delay had been a
+thing undreamt of, on _that_ line at any rate; and Maurice hurried off
+to make his inquiries, and find a carriage to take him to Mr. Wynter's.
+
+So far, certainly, he prospered. He found that his destination was
+between four and five miles from the city, but it was perfectly well
+known, and a carriage was soon ready to take him on.
+
+The road seemed very long, as an unknown road travelled in darkness and
+in haste generally does. The wind howled, and rattled the carriage
+windows, the rain still dashed against the glass with every gust, and at
+times the horses seemed scarcely able to keep on through the storm. At
+last, however, they came to a stop, and Maurice, looking out, found
+himself close to a lodge, from the window of which a bright gleam of
+light shone out across the rainy darkness. In a minute a second light
+came from the opening door, the great gates rolled back, and the
+carriage passed on into the grounds. There were large trees on both
+sides of the drive, just faintly visible as they swayed backwards and
+forwards, and then came an open space and the house itself. There was a
+cheerful brightness there, showing a wide old-fashioned porch, and,
+within, a large hall where a lamp was burning. Maurice hurried in to the
+porch, and had waited but a minute when a servant in a plain,
+sober-coloured livery came leisurely across the hall and opened the
+glass door, through which the visitor had been trying to get his first
+idea of the place and its inhabitants.
+
+"Was Mr. Wynter in?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Was he expected?"
+
+"Not to-night, certainly--perhaps not to-morrow."
+
+"Mrs. Wynter?" That was a guess. Maurice had never troubled himself till
+then to think whether there _was_ a Mrs. Wynter.
+
+"She was at home, but engaged."
+
+Maurice hesitated a moment. "I must see her," he thought to himself, and
+took heart again.
+
+"I have made a long journey," he said, "to see Mr. Wynter; will you give
+my card to your mistress, and beg of her to see me for a moment?"
+
+The man took the card and led the visitor into a small room at one side
+of the hall, where books and work were lying about as if it had been
+occupied earlier in the day, but which was empty now. Then he shut the
+door and carried the card into the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs. Wynter had friends staying with her. There was a widow and her son
+and daughter, and one or two young people besides, as well as all the
+younger members of the Wynter family. The two elder ladies were having a
+little comfortable chat over their work, and the others were gathered
+round the piano, when Maurice's arrival was heard.
+
+"Who can it be?" Mrs. Wynter said doubtfully. "It is not possible Mr.
+Wynter can be back to-night."
+
+The eldest daughter came to the back of her mother's chair.
+
+"Listen, mamma," she said; "or shall I look if it is papa?"
+
+"No indeed, my dear. It can't be. Walter!" for one of the boys was
+cautiously unlatching the door, "come away, I beg."
+
+Meanwhile all listened, so very extraordinary did it seem that anybody
+should come unannounced, so late, and on such a night.
+
+Presently the door opened, and everybody's eyes, as well as ears, were
+in requisition, though there was only a card to exercise them on.
+
+"A gentleman, ma'am, who says he has come a long way to see master, and
+would you speak to him for a moment?"
+
+Mrs. Wynter took up the card, and her daughter read it over her
+shoulder.
+
+"Leigh Beresford?" she said. "I do not know the name at all. You said
+Mr. Wynter was from home?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman seemed very much put out, and then said could
+he see you?"
+
+"I suppose he must;" and Mrs. Wynter began, rather reluctantly, to put
+aside her embroidery, and draw up her lace shawl around her shoulders.
+
+"But what a pretty name! Mamma, who can he be?"
+
+"And, mamma, if he is nice bring him in and let us all see him."
+
+"No, don't; we don't want any strangers. What _do_ people come after
+dinner for?"
+
+Mrs. Wynter paid no attention to her daughters, but having made up her
+mind to it, walked composedly out of the room, and into the one where
+Maurice waited. She came in, a fair motherly woman, in satin and lace,
+with a certain soft _comfortableness_ about her aspect which seemed an
+odd contrast to his impatience. He took pains to speak without hurry or
+excitement, but did not, perhaps, altogether succeed.
+
+"I must beg you to pardon me this intrusion," he said. "I hoped to have
+found Mr. Wynter at home, and I wished to ask him a question which I
+have no doubt you can answer equally well if you will be so good."
+
+"If it relates to business," Mrs. Wynter began, but Maurice interrupted,
+
+"It is only about an address. I have just arrived in England from
+Canada; I am an old friend and neighbour of Mrs. Costello, and have
+something of importance to communicate to her, will you tell me where
+she is?"
+
+Poor Maurice! he had been getting his little speech ready beforehand,
+and had made up his mind to speak quite coolly, but somehow the last few
+words seemed very much in earnest, and struck Mrs. Wynter as being so.
+She looked more closely at her guest.
+
+"Mrs. Costello is in France. Did I understand that you had known her in
+Canada?"
+
+"I have known her all my life. I spent the last summer and autumn in
+England, and did not return to Canada until after she had left, but she
+knew that I should have occasion to see her, or write to her as soon as
+I could reach home again, and I am anxious to do so now."
+
+"You are aware that Mrs. Costello wishes to live very quietly? Her
+health is much broken."
+
+"I know all. Mrs. Costello has herself told me. Pray trust me--you may,
+indeed."
+
+"You will excuse my hesitation if you do know all; but, certainly, I
+have no authority to refuse their address."
+
+She got up and opened a desk which stood on a table in the room. She had
+considered the matter while they were talking, and come to the
+conclusion that the address ought to be given, while at the same time
+she wished to know more of the person to whom she gave it.
+
+"I wish Mr. Wynter had been at home," she said after a minute's pause,
+during which she was turning over the papers in the desk, and Maurice
+was watching her eagerly. "He would have been able to tell you something
+of your friends, for he only returned home a week or two ago from
+meeting them."
+
+"Are they in Paris?"
+
+"Yes. Are you returning to Canada?"
+
+"No. Perhaps, Mrs. Wynter, you would like to have my address? My coming
+to you as I have done, without credentials of any sort, must certainly
+seem strange."
+
+"Thank you; you will understand that I feel in some little difficulty."
+
+"I understand perfectly." He wrote his name and address in full and gave
+it to her. "Mrs. Costello was a dear friend of my mother's," he said;
+"she has always treated me almost as a son, and I cannot help hoping
+that what I have to say to her may be welcome news."
+
+"Do you expect to see her, then, or only to write?"
+
+"I am on my way to Paris. I hope to see them."
+
+"Here is the address. You have had a long journey, the servant told me."
+
+"From Hunsdon. And the journey out of Norfolk into Cheshire is a
+tiresome one. Thank you very much. Can I take any message to Mrs.
+Costello?"
+
+"None, thank you, except our kindest remembrances. But you will let me
+offer you something--at least a glass of wine?"
+
+But Maurice had now got all he wanted. He just glanced at the precious
+paper, put it away safely, declined Mrs. Wynter's offers, and was out of
+the house and on his way back to Chester in a very short space of time.
+
+"What an odd thing!" Mrs. Wynter said as she settled herself comfortably
+in the easy-chair again.
+
+"Who was he, mamma? What did he want?"
+
+"He was a Canadian friend of your cousin Mary's wanting her address."
+
+"What! come over from Canada on purpose?"
+
+"It almost seemed like it, though that could not be, I suppose, for here
+is his address--'Maurice Leigh Beresford, Hunsdon, Norfolk.'"
+
+"Beresford?" said the widow, "Why the Beresfords of Hunsdon are great
+people--very grand people, indeed. I used to know something of them."
+
+"Did he look like a grand person, mamma?"
+
+"He seemed a gentleman, certainly. I know no more."
+
+"Was he young or old?"
+
+"Young."
+
+"Handsome or ugly?"
+
+"Need he be either?"
+
+"Of course. Which, mamma?"
+
+"Not ugly, decidedly. Tall, and rather dark, with a very frank,
+honest-looking face."
+
+"Young, handsome, tall, dark, and honest-looking! Mamma, he's a hero of
+romance, especially coming as he did, in the rain and the night."
+
+"Don't be silly, Tiny. Mamma, is not my cousin Lucia a great beauty?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello and Lucia had grown, to some degree, accustomed to their
+Paris life. Its novelty had at first prevented them from feeling its
+loneliness; but as time went on, there began to be something dreary in
+the absence of every friendly face, every familiar voice. Mrs. Costello
+would not even write to Canada until she could feel tolerably sure that
+her letters would only arrive after the Leighs had left; she had taken
+pains to find out all Mr. Leigh could tell her of Maurice's intentions,
+and she guessed that, for one reason or another, he would not be likely
+to stay longer in Cacouna than was necessary. Even when she wrote to
+Mrs. Bellairs she did not give her own address, but that of the banker
+through whom her money was transmitted.
+
+She felt sore and angry whenever she thought of Maurice. She had
+perceived Mr. Leigh's embarrassed manner, and guessed, by a
+half-conscious reasoning of her own, that he believed his son changed
+towards them, but she did not guess on how very small a foundation this
+belief rested. She had thought it right to give up, on Lucia's behalf,
+any claim she had on the young man's fidelity; but to find him so very
+ready to accept the sacrifice, was quite another thing. It was so unlike
+Maurice, she said to herself; and then it occurred to her that Mr.
+Beresford might have planned some marriage for his grandson as a
+condition of his inheritance. Certainly she had heard no hint of such a
+thing, and up to a short time ago she was pretty sure Maurice himself
+could have had no idea of it; yet it was perfectly possible, and Mr.
+Leigh might have been warned to say nothing to her about it. All these
+thoughts, though Maurice might, if he had known, have been inclined to
+resent them, had the effect of keeping him constantly in Mrs. Costello's
+mind; and she puzzled over his conduct until she came to have her wishes
+pretty equally divided; on one hand, desiring to keep to her plan of a
+total separation between Lucia and him; and on the other, longing to see
+or hear of him, in order to know whether her former or her present
+opinion of him was the correct one.
+
+It happened, therefore, that Maurice was much more frequently spoken of
+between the mother and daughter than should have been the case if Mrs.
+Costello had carried out her theories. If Lucia had been ever so little
+"in love" with him when she reached Paris, she would have had plenty of
+opportunity for increasing her fancy by dwelling on the object of it;
+but Mrs. Costello's wishes were forwarded by the very last means she
+would have chosen as her auxiliary. Lucia talked of Maurice because she
+thought of him as a friend, or rather as a dear brother. She said
+nothing of Percy, but she dreamt of him, and longed inexpressibly to
+hear even his name mentioned. She had heard nothing of him, except some
+slight casual mention, since he went away. He had said then that,
+perhaps in a year, she might change her mind; and she had said to
+herself, "Surely he will not forget me in a year." And now spring was
+coming round again, and all that had separated them was removed; there
+was not even the obstacle of distance; no Atlantic rolled between them;
+nay, they might be even in the same city. But how would he know? She
+could do nothing. She had done all in her power to make their parting
+final. How could she undo it now? She did not dare even to speak to her
+mother of him, for she knew that on that one subject alone there had
+never been sympathy between them. And she said to herself, too, deep in
+her own heart, that it must be a great love indeed which would be
+willing to take her--a poor, simple, half-Indian girl--and brave the
+world, and, above all, that terrible old earl and his pride, for her
+sake.
+
+Still she dreamed and hoped, and set herself, meanwhile, all the more
+vigorously because of that hope, to "improve her mind." She picked up
+French wonderfully fast, having a tolerable foundation to go upon and a
+very quick ear, and she read and practised daily; beside learning
+various secrets of housekeeping, and attending her mother with the
+tenderest care. But it was very lonely. Lucia had never known what
+loneliness meant until those days when she sat by the window in the
+Champs Elysées and watched the busy perpetual stream of passers up and
+down--the movements of a world which was close round about, yet with
+which she had no one link of acquaintance or affection. It was very
+lonely; and because she could not speak out her thoughts, and say, "Is
+Percy here? Shall I see him some day passing, and thinking nothing of my
+being near him?" she said the thing that lay next in her mind, "I wish
+Maurice were here! Don't you, mamma?"
+
+They had been more than a month in their new home. The routine of life
+had grown familiar to them; they knew the outsides, at least, of all the
+neighbouring shops; they had walked together to the Arc de Triomphe on
+the one side, and to the Rond Point on the other; they had driven to the
+Bois de Boulogne, and done some little sight-seeing beside. They had
+done all, in short, to which Mrs. Costello's strength was at present
+equal, and had come to a little pause, waiting for warmer weather, and
+for the renewal of health, which they hoped sunshine would bring her.
+
+One afternoon Claudine had been obliged to go out, and the little
+apartment was unusually quiet. Mrs. Costello, tired with a morning
+walk, had dropped into a doze; and Lucia sat by the window, her work on
+her lap, and her eyes idly following the constant succession of
+carriages down below. To tell the truth, she constantly outraged
+Claudine's sense of propriety, by insisting on having one little crevice
+uncurtained, where she could look out into the free air; and to-day she
+was making use of the privilege, for want of anything more interesting
+indoors. She had no fear of being disturbed, for they had no visitors;
+in all Paris, there was not one person they knew, unless--. Percy had
+been there a great deal formerly, she knew, and might be there now, but
+he would not know where to find them if he wished it; no one could
+possibly come to-day. And yet the first interruption that came in the
+midst of the drowsy, sunny silence, was a ring at the door-bell. Lucia
+raised her head in surprise, and listened. Mrs. Costello slept on. Who
+could it be? not Claudine, for she had the key. Must she go and open the
+door? It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated
+there was another ring, a little louder than the first.
+
+She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door. "I wish
+Claudine would come," she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely
+to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting.
+
+"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought
+dolorously; but there was clearly no help.
+
+She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there--a
+gentleman! She uttered one little cry--
+
+"Maurice!"
+
+And then they were both standing inside the closed door; and he held her
+two hands in his, and they were looking at each other with eyes too full
+of joy to see well.
+
+"Lucia!" he said; "just yourself." But somehow his voice was not quite
+steady, and he dare not trust it any further.
+
+"We wanted you so, and you are come. Oh, Maurice! you are good to find
+us so soon!"
+
+"Did you think I should not?"
+
+"I cannot tell. How could you know where we were?"
+
+"I went to Chester, and asked."
+
+"To Chester? To my cousin's? Just to find us out?"
+
+"Why not? Did not you know perfectly well that my first thought when I
+was free would be to find you?"
+
+He spoke half laughing, but there was no mistaking his earnestness in
+the matter; was not he here to prove it? Tears came very fast to Lucia's
+eyes. This was really like the old happy days coming back.
+
+"Come in," she said, "mamma is here." But mamma still slept undisturbed,
+for their tones had been low in the greatness of their joy; and Maurice
+drew Lucia back, and would not let her awake her.
+
+"She looks very tired," he said rather hypocritically; "and it will be
+time enough to see me when she awakes. Don't disturb her."
+
+Lucia looked at her mother anxiously. She knew this sleep was good for
+the invalid, and yet it might last an hour, and how could she wait all
+that time for the thousand things she wanted to hear from Maurice? The
+door of their tiny salle à manger stood a little open.
+
+"Come in here, then," she said, "we shall be able to see when she
+wakes--and _I must_ talk to you."
+
+Maurice followed obediently--this was better than his hopes, to have
+Lucia all to himself for the first half hour. She made him sit down in
+such a manner that he could not be seen by Mrs. Costello, while she
+herself could see through the open door and watch for her mother's
+waking.
+
+"And now tell me," she asked, "have you been back to Canada?"
+
+"I started the moment I could leave England after my grandfather's
+death, but when I reached Cacouna you were gone."
+
+"Dear old home! I suppose all looked just as usual?"
+
+"Nothing looked as usual to me. As I came up the river I saw that the
+cottage was deserted, and that changed all the rest. But indeed I had
+had a tolerable certainty before that you were gone."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Do you remember meeting a Cunard steamer two days out at sea?"
+
+"You were on board? How I strained my eyes to see if I could distinguish
+you!"
+
+"Did you? And I too. But though I could not see you, I felt that you
+were on board the ship we met."
+
+"I was sitting on deck, longing for a telescope. Well, it is all right
+now. Did you bring Mr. Leigh home?"
+
+"Yes; he is at Hunsdon, safe and well."
+
+"Hunsdon is your house now, is not it? Tell me what it is like?"
+
+"A great square place, with a huge white portico in front--very ugly, to
+tell the truth; but you would like the park, Lucia, and the trees."
+
+"It must be very grand. Does it feel very nice to be rich?"
+
+"That depends on circumstances. But now do you think you are to ask all
+the questions and answer none?"
+
+"No, indeed. There is one answer."
+
+"Do you like Paris?"
+
+"Well enough. It is very lonely here without anybody."
+
+"Are you going to stay here?"
+
+"For a month or two, I think."
+
+"You will not be quite so lonely then in future--at least if I may come
+to see you."
+
+"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?"
+
+"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect my cousin Lady Dighton over
+soon, and she wants to know you."
+
+"To know _us_? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am,
+and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely."
+
+"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?"
+
+"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone,
+all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea--"the only thing
+that is good for her is to be quiet and happy--and the last few months
+have been so dreadful, she has suffered so."
+
+"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth
+in the world to have been able to help you."
+
+"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old
+friends would desert us. I never thought _you_ would."
+
+"There is some comfort in that. Promise that whatever may come, you will
+always trust me."
+
+He held out his hand, and Lucia put hers frankly in it.
+
+Just at that moment there was a stir, and Mrs. Costello called "Lucia."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello woke up gradually from her doze. She had been dreaming of
+Cacouna, and that Maurice and Lucia were sitting near her talking of his
+journey to England. She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange
+room which she soon recognized, but still it seemed as if part of her
+dream continued, for she could hear the murmur of two voices, very low,
+and could see Lucia sitting in the adjoining room and talking to
+somebody. Lucia, in fact, had forgotten to keep watch.
+
+Mrs. Costello listened for a minute. It was strangely like Maurice's
+voice. She sat up, and called her daughter.
+
+Lucia started up and came into the salon. She bent down over her
+mother, and kissed her to hide her flushed face and happy eyes for a
+moment.
+
+"Are you rested, dear mamma?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, darling. Who is there?"
+
+"A visitor, mother, from England."
+
+"From England? Not your cousin?"
+
+"No, indeed. Guess again."
+
+"Tell me. Quickly, Lucia."
+
+"What do you say to Maurice?"
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+But Maurice, hearing his own name, came forward boldly.
+
+"I have but just arrived, Mrs. Costello. I told you I should find you
+out."
+
+They looked at each other with something not unlike defiance, but
+nevertheless Mrs. Costello shook hands with her guest cordially enough.
+Certainly he _had_ kept his word--there might be a mistake somewhere,
+and at all events, for the present moment he was here, and it was very
+pleasant to see him.
+
+So the three sat together and talked, and it seemed so natural that they
+should be doing it, that what did begin to be strange and incredible was
+the separation, and the various events of the past six months. But after
+Claudine had come in, and Lucia had been obliged to go away "on
+hospitable cares intent," to arrange with her some little addition to
+the dinner which Maurice was to share with them, the newcomer took
+advantage of her absence, and resolved to get as many as possible of his
+difficulties over at once. He had not yet quite forgiven his faithless
+ally, and he meant to make a new treaty, now that he was on the spot to
+see it carried out.
+
+"I am afraid," he began, "that my coming so unexpectedly must have
+startled you a little, but I thought it was best not to write."
+
+Mrs. Costello could not help smiling--she was quite conscious of her
+tactics having been surpassed by Maurice's.
+
+"I am glad to see you, at any rate," she said, "now you _are_ here; but"
+she added seriously, "you must not forget, nor try to tempt me to
+forget, that we are all changed since we met last."
+
+"I do not wish it. I don't wish to forget anything that is true and
+real, and I wish to remind you that when I left Canada I did so with a
+promise--an implied promise at any rate--from you, which has not been
+kept."
+
+"Maurice! Have you a right to speak to me so?"
+
+"I think I have. Dear Mrs. Costello, have some consideration for me.
+Was it right when I was kept a fast prisoner by my poor grandfather's
+sick-bed, when I was trusting to you, and doing all I could to make you
+to trust me--was it fair to break faith with me, and try to deprive me
+of all the hopes I had in the world? Just think of it--was it fair?"
+
+"I broke no faith with you. I felt that I had let you pledge yourself in
+the dark; that in my care for Lucia, and confidence in you, I had to
+some extent bound you to a discreditable engagement. I released you from
+it; I told you the truth of the story I had hidden from everybody--I
+wrote to you when my husband lay in jail waiting his trial for murder,
+and I heard no more from you. It was natural, prudent, right that you
+should accept the separation I desired--you did so, and I have only
+taken means to make it effectual."
+
+"I did so! I accepted the separation?"
+
+"I supposed, at least, from your silence that you did so. Was not I
+right therefore in desiring that you and Lucia should not meet again?"
+
+"_That_ was it, then? Listen, Mrs. Costello. My last note to you seems
+by some means to have been lost. There was nothing new in it; but my
+father has told me that he was surprised on receiving my letter which
+ought to have contained it, to find nothing for you, not even a message;
+perhaps you wondered too. I can only tell you the note was written.
+Then, in my next letter, written when my grandfather was actually dying,
+and when I was, I confess, very angry that you should persist in trying
+to shake me off, there was a message to you in a postscript which my
+father overlooked, and which I myself showed to him for the first time
+when I reached home and found you gone. What he had been thinking,
+Heaven knows. I had rather not inquire too closely; but I will say that
+it is rather hard to find that the people who ought to know one best,
+cannot trust one for six months."
+
+Mrs. Costello listened attentively while Maurice made his explanation
+with no little warmth and indignation.
+
+"Do you mean to say that you did not perceive how foolish and wrong it
+had become for you to think of marrying Lucia?"
+
+"How in the world could it be either foolish or wrong for me to wish to
+marry the girl I have loved all my life? Unless, indeed, she preferred
+somebody else."
+
+"Remember who she is."
+
+"I am not likely to forget that after all I have lately heard about her
+from Mrs. Morton."
+
+"And that you have a family and a position to think of now."
+
+"And a home fit to offer to Lucia."
+
+"Obstinate boy!"
+
+"Call me what you will, but let it be understood that I have done
+nothing to forfeit your promise. I am to take no further answers except
+from Lucia."
+
+"But you know, at least, that our worst fears were unfounded?"
+
+"Of course they were. I always knew that would come right. But you have
+suffered terribly; I am ashamed of my own selfishness when I think of
+it."
+
+"We have suffered. And my poor child so innocently, and so bravely.
+Maurice, she is worth caring for."
+
+"You shall see whether I value her or not. Here she comes!"
+
+Lucia came in, the glow of pleasure still on her face which Maurice's
+arrival had brought there. It was no wonder that both mother and lover
+looked at her with delight as she moved about, too restlessly happy to
+sit still, yet pausing every minute to ask some question or to listen
+to what the others were saying. Indeed not one of the three could well
+have been happier than they were that afternoon. Mrs. Costello felt that
+she had done all she could in the cause of prudence, and therefore
+rejoiced without compunction in seeing her favourite scheme for her
+darling restored to her more perfect than ever. Maurice, without having
+more than the minimum quantity of masculine vanity, had great faith in
+the virtues of perseverance and fidelity, and took the full benefit of
+Lucia's delight at seeing him; while Lucia herself was just simply
+glad--so glad that for an hour or two she quite forgot to think of
+Percy.
+
+Maurice declared he had business which would keep him in Paris for some
+weeks. He claimed permission therefore to come every day, and to take
+Lucia to all the places where Mrs. Costello was not able to go.
+
+"Oh, how charming!" Lucia cried. "I shall get some walks now. Do you
+know, Maurice, mamma will not let me go anywhere by myself, and I can't
+bear to make her walk; but you will go, won't you?"
+
+"Indeed I will," Maurice said; but after that he went away back to his
+hotel, with his first uncomfortable sensation. Was Lucia still really
+such a child? Would she always persist in thinking of him as an elder
+brother--a dear brother, certainly, which was something, but not at all
+what he wanted? How should he make her understand the difference? That
+very day, her warm frank affection had been a perfect shield to her. The
+words that had risen to his lips had been stopped there, as absolutely
+as if he had been struck dumb. 'But I need not speak just yet,' he
+consoled himself. 'I must try to make her feel that I am of use to her,
+and that she would miss me if she sent me away. My darling! I must not
+risk anything by being too hasty.'
+
+He wrote two notes that night; one to his father, the other to Lady
+Dighton, which said,
+
+"Do come over. I am impatient to show Lucia to you. She is more
+beautiful and sweeter than ever. Of course, you will think all I say
+exaggerated, so do come and judge for yourself. I want an ally. All is
+right with Mrs. Costello, but I own I want courage with Lucia to "put it
+to the test." Suppose after all I should lose? But I dare not think of
+that."
+
+Mrs. Costello slept little that night. A second time within a year she
+saw all her plans destroyed, her anticipations proved mistaken; the
+brighter destiny she had formerly hoped for, was now within her child's
+grasp. Wealth, honour, and steadfast love were laid together at her
+feet. Would she gather them up? Would she be willing to give herself
+into the keeping of this faithful heart which had learnt so well "to
+love one maiden and to cleave to her?" The doubt seemed absurd, yet it
+came and haunted the mother's meditations. She knew perfectly that Lucia
+had no thought of Maurice but as a friend or brother. She could not
+quite understand how it had always continued so, but she knew it had.
+She had never been willing to think of her child's regard for Percy as
+likely to be a lasting feeling, and at most times she really did
+consider it only as a thing of the past; yet to-night it came before her
+tiresomely, and she remembered what Mrs. Bellairs had told her lately
+about his marriage. She resolved once to ask Maurice whether he had
+heard anything of it, but, on second thoughts, she decided that it was
+better to leave the matter alone.
+
+There was yet another person on whom Maurice's coming had made a most
+lively impression. Claudine, as soon after her first sight of him as she
+could get hold of Lucia, had a dozen questions to ask. "Was he
+Mademoiselle's brother? Her cousin then? Only a friend? What a charming
+young man! How tall he was! and what magnifiques yeux bruns! Now,
+surely, Mademoiselle would not be so _triste_? She would go out a
+little? and everybody would remark them, Mademoiselle being so graceful,
+and monsieur so _very_ tall."
+
+Lucia told her mother, laughing, that she and Maurice were going to walk
+up the Champs Elysées next day, with placards, saying that they were two
+North Americans newly caught; and when Maurice came next morning, she
+repeated Claudine's comments to him with a perfect enjoyment of the good
+little woman's admiration for "ce beau Monsieur Canadien."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+After that day, Paris became quite a different place to Lucia. Maurice
+was with them most of every day, and every day they saw something new,
+or made some little country excursion. The weather, though still rather
+cold, was fine and bright; winter had fairly given place to spring, and
+all externally was so gay, sunny and hopeful, that it was quite
+impossible to give way either to sad recollections of the past, or to
+melancholy thoughts of the future.
+
+Mrs. Costello's health seemed steadily, though slowly improving; she had
+now no anxiety, except that one shadowy doubt of Lucia's decision with
+regard to Maurice, and that she was glad to leave for the present in
+uncertainty. She felt no hesitation in letting the two young people go
+where they would together; they had always been like brother and sister,
+and, at the worst, they would still be that.
+
+When this pleasant life had lasted about ten days, Maurice came in one
+morning and said,
+
+"What do you say to a visitor to-day, Lucia?"
+
+Lucia looked up eagerly with clasped hands,
+
+"Who?" she cried. "Not your cousin?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, Maurice! I am afraid of her--I am indeed. I am sure she is a
+_grande dame_, and will annihilate me."
+
+"Silly child! She is a tiny woman, with a fair little face and not a bit
+of grandeur about her. You yourself will look like a queen beside her."
+
+"She is your very good friend, is not she?"
+
+"Indeed she is. Promise me to try to like her."
+
+"Of course, I will try. Is she really coming here?"
+
+"She wishes to call this afternoon."
+
+Lucia looked round the room. It was nice enough, and pretty in its way
+with its mirrors, gilt ornaments, and imposing clock on the mantelpiece;
+but it was so small! Three people quite filled it up. But she finished
+her survey with a laugh.
+
+"If they would only let us have less furniture!" she said. "It was all
+very well as long as we had nothing better than tables and chairs to
+fill up the room with; but at present--"
+
+She finished her sentence with a little shrug, in imitation of Claudine,
+which made Maurice laugh also. He proceeded, however, to warn her that
+worse was in reserve.
+
+"Louisa will come alone, to-day," he said, "because I told her Mrs.
+Costello was an invalid, but you must expect that next time she will
+bring her husband, and Sir John is no small person I assure you."
+
+"When did they arrive?"
+
+"Last night."
+
+"How long will they stay, do you think?"
+
+"Two or three weeks I imagine, but I know nothing positively of their
+plans."
+
+"And Maurice, tell me when you must go back to England? I do not want
+our pleasant life to end just as suddenly as it began."
+
+"Nor do I. I am not going just yet."
+
+"But have not you quantities of affairs to attend to, you important
+person?"
+
+"My most serious affair at present is in Paris. Don't be afraid, I am
+not forgetting my duties."
+
+"Then we cannot go out to-day?"
+
+"Put on your bonnet and come now for a walk."
+
+"I must ask mamma, and tell her your news. She is late this morning."
+
+Mrs. Costello had risen late since she came to Paris. Lucia found her
+dressed and discussing some household affair with Claudine.
+
+"Only think, mamma," she began. "Lady Dighton came over yesterday and is
+coming to see you to-day."
+
+But the news was no surprise to Mrs. Costello, who had received a hint
+from Maurice that he wished to see his cousin and Lucia friends, before
+he ventured on that decisive question to which they all, except Lucia,
+were looking forward so anxiously. But she was keenly alive to the
+desire that her child should make a favourable impression on this lady,
+who had evidently some influence with Maurice, and who, if the
+wished-for marriage took place, would become Lucia's near relative and
+neighbour. She said nothing at all about this, however, and was
+perfectly content that the young people should take one of those long
+walks which brought such a lovely colour into her daughter's pale
+cheeks, and so gave the last perfecting touch to her beauty.
+
+Maurice left Lucia at the door, and went back to the hotel where he had
+promised Lady Dighton to lunch with her. She was waiting for him,
+looking more than usually fair and pretty in the mourning she wore for
+her grandfather. He could not help thinking, as he came in, how rich and
+handsome everything about her seemed, in contrast to the bare simplicity
+of his poorer friends--yet certainly nature had intended Lucia for a
+much more stately and magnificent person than this little lady.
+
+"Well?" she said smiling. "Have you persuaded your friends to receive
+me? I can assure you my curiosity has nearly overpowered me this
+morning."
+
+"You will be disappointed, of course. You are imagining a heroine, and
+you will see only a young country girl."
+
+"For shame, Maurice! If I am imagining a heroine, I wonder whose fault
+it is?"
+
+"I wish you would not form your judgment for a week. You are enough of a
+fine lady, Louisa, to be a little affected by externals, and my pearl
+has no fine setting at present; it will need looking at closely to find
+out its value."
+
+"And you think, oh most philosophical of lovers! that I am not capable
+of distinguishing a real pearl unless it is set in gold, and has its
+price ticketed?"
+
+"I think, at least, that I am so anxious to see you the same kind friend
+to her as you have been to me, that I am troubling myself uselessly
+about the first impressions."
+
+"On both sides? Well, trust me, Maurice I will like your Lucia for your
+sake, and try to make her like me."
+
+"Thank you; I know you will. And after the first, you will not be able
+to help loving her."
+
+"Sir John is not to go with us?"
+
+"Not unless you particularly wish it. Where is he?"
+
+"Gone out shopping. Don't laugh. I suspect his shopping is of a
+different kind to mine, and quite as expensive."
+
+"Can anything be as expensive as the charming bonnets I heard you
+talking of this morning?"
+
+"Take care. Only hint that I am extravagant, and I will devote myself to
+corrupting Lucia, and avenge myself by making your pocket suffer."
+
+"I wish my pocket had anything to do with it. Pray be careful, Louisa,
+and remember that I have not dared to speak to her yet."
+
+"I shall remember. Come to lunch now. Sir John will not be in."
+
+Maurice tried in vain to talk as they drove slowly along to Mrs.
+Costello's. The street was full of people, and Lady Dighton amused
+herself by looking out for acquaintances, and saluting those they met. A
+good many English were in Paris; and she had also a pretty large circle
+of French people with whom she was on friendly terms; so that she had
+quite enough occupation to prevent her noticing her cousin's silence.
+But the moment the carriage stopped, she was ready to give her whole
+attention to him and his affairs; she gave him a little nod and smile
+full of sympathy as she went up the staircase, and the moment Claudine
+opened the door he perceived that he might leave everything in her hands
+with the most perfect confidence in her management.
+
+There had been a little flutter of expectation in Lucia's mind for the
+last half-hour, in which she wondered her mother did not express more
+sympathy; and when, at last, the door opened, she was seized with a
+sudden tremor, and for an instant felt herself deaf and blind. The
+moment passed, however, and there came sweeping softly into the room a
+little figure with golden hair and widely flowing draperies; a fair face
+with a pleasant smile, and a clear musical voice; these were the things
+that first impressed her as belonging to Maurice's formidable cousin.
+
+Lady Dighton's first words were of course addressed to Mrs.
+Costello--they seemed to Lucia to be a plea for a welcome, as Maurice's
+near relation--and then the two young women stood face to face and
+exchanged one quick glance. Lady Dighton held out her hand.
+
+"Miss Costello," she said, "you and I are so totally unlike each other,
+that I am certain we were meant to be friends--will you try?"
+
+The suddenness and oddity of the address struck Lucia dumb. She gave her
+hand, however, to her new friend with a smile, and as she did so, her
+eye caught the reflection of their two figures in a glass opposite.
+
+Truly, they were unlike each other--very opposites--but either because,
+or in spite of the difference, they seemed to suit each other.
+
+Half an hour spent in calling upon or receiving a call from an entire
+stranger, is generally a very heavy tax on one's good humour; but
+occasionally, when the visit is clearly the beginning of a pleasant
+acquaintance--perhaps a valuable friendship--things are entirely
+different. Lady Dighton had come with the intention of making herself
+agreeable, and few people knew better how to do it; but she found no
+effort necessary, and time slipped away more quickly than she thought
+possible. She stayed, in fact, until she felt quite sure her husband
+would have been waiting so long as to be growing uneasy, and when she
+did get up to go away, she begged Mrs. Costello and Lucia to dine with
+her next day.
+
+"And Maurice," she said, "you must persuade Miss Costello to join us in
+an excursion somewhere. It is quite the weather for long drives, and our
+holiday will not be very long, you know."
+
+"I am entirely at your command," Maurice said, "and Lucia must do as she
+is bid, so pray settle your plans with Mrs. Costello."
+
+But Mrs. Costello said decidedly that to dine out for herself was out of
+the question--she had not done so for years.
+
+"Oh! I am so sorry," Lady Dighton said. "But of course we must not ask
+you in that case--Miss Costello may come to us, may she not? I will take
+good care of her."
+
+Lucia had many scruples about leaving her mother; but, however, it was
+finally settled that the Dightons should call for her next day--that
+they should have a long drive to some place not yet fixed upon--and that
+she should afterwards spend the evening with them.
+
+Mrs. Costello was pleased that her child should go out a little after
+her long seclusion from all society; and the whole plan was arranged
+with little reference to Lucia, who vainly tried to avoid this long
+absence from her mother.
+
+The two cousins were scarcely on their road when Lady Dighton asked--
+
+"Well, Maurice, am I to reserve my opinion?"
+
+"As you please," he answered smiling. "I am sure it is not very
+unfavourable."
+
+"She is wonderfully beautiful; and, what is most strange, she knows it
+without being vain."
+
+"Vain? I should think she was not!"
+
+"What grace she has! With her small head and magnificent hair and eyes,
+she would have had quite beauty enough for one girl without being so
+erect and stately. You never gave me the idea that she was so
+excessively handsome, Maurice."
+
+"Is she? I don't believe I knew it. You see I have known her all her
+life--I know every one of her qualities, I believe, good and bad; and
+all her ways. I knew she had the purest nature and the warmest, bravest
+heart a woman could have; but I have thought very little about her
+beauty by itself."
+
+"Well, then, let me tell you, she only needs to be seen--she is quite
+lovely; and as for the rest, I do not know yet, but I am very much
+inclined to think you may be right. At all events, we are going to be
+good friends, and by-and-by I shall know all about her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Lucia came home late in the evening. Mrs. Costello, resuming her old
+habits, had sent the servant to bed, and herself admitted her daughter.
+They went into the drawing-room together to talk over the day's doings.
+
+"You look very bright," Mrs. Costello said with her hand on Lucia's
+shoulder. "You have enjoyed yourself?"
+
+"Yes, mamma, _so_ much. You know I was a little afraid of Lady Dighton,
+and dreadfully afraid of Sir John. But they have both been so good to
+me; just like people at Cacouna who had known me all my life."
+
+Mrs. Costello smiled. She was very glad this friendship seemed likely
+to prosper. Yet it was not very wonderful that any one should like
+Lucia.
+
+"What have you been doing?"
+
+"We went to Versailles, and saw the gardens. We had no time for the
+Palace; but Maurice is going to take me there another day. Then we came
+home and had dinner; and where do you think we have been since?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"To the theatre! Oh, mamma, it was so nice! You know, I never was in one
+before."
+
+Lucia clasped her hands, and looked up at her mother with such a
+perfectly innocent, childish, face of delight, that it was impossible
+not to laugh.
+
+"What a day of dissipation!"
+
+"Yes; but just for once, you know. And I could not help it."
+
+"I do not see why you should have wished to help it. How about your
+French? Could you understand the play?"
+
+"Pretty well. It was very shocking, you know. Lady Dighton says the best
+French plays always are. I cried a little, and I was so ashamed of
+myself; only I saw some other people crying too, so then I did not mind
+so much."
+
+"You did not really see much of Lady Dighton, then, if you were driving
+all afternoon and at the theatre all evening?"
+
+"Oh! yes; we had a long talk before dinner. When we came in, she said,
+'Now, Maurice, you must just amuse yourself how you can for an hour. Sir
+John has English papers to read, and Miss Costello and I are going to my
+room to have a chat.' So she took me off to her dressing-room, and we
+were by ourselves there for quite an hour."
+
+"In which time, I suppose, you talked about everything in heaven and
+earth."
+
+"I don't know. No, indeed; I believe we talked most about Maurice."
+
+"He is a favourite of hers."
+
+"She says she liked him from the first. She is so funny in her way of
+describing things. She said, 'We English are horribly benighted with
+regard to you colonists; and my notions of geography are elementary.
+When grandpapa told me he had sent for his heir from Canada, I went to
+Sir John and asked him where Canada was. He got a big map and began to
+show me; but all I could understand was, that it was in North America.
+I saw an American once. I suppose I must have seen others, but I
+remember one particularly, for being an American; he was dreadfully thin
+and had straight black hair, and a queer little pointed black beard, and
+I _think_ he spoke through his nose; and really I began to be haunted by
+a recollection of this man, and to think I was going to have a cousin
+just like him.' Then she told me about going over to Hunsdon and finding
+he had arrived. She said that before the end of the day they were fast
+friends."
+
+"He was not like what she expected, then?"
+
+"Just the opposite. She made me laugh about that. She said, 'I like
+handsome people, and I like an English style of beauty for men. My poor
+dear Sir John is not handsome, though he has a good face; but really
+when a man is good-looking _and_ looks good, I can't resist him.'"
+
+"You seem to have been much occupied with this question of looks. Did
+you spend the whole hour talking about them?"
+
+"Mamma! Why that was only the beginning."
+
+"What was the rest, then? or some of it, at least?"
+
+"She told me how good Maurice was to his grandfather, and how fond Mr.
+Beresford grew of him. Do you know that Maurice was just going to try to
+get away to Canada at the very time Mr. Beresford had his last attack?
+Lady Dighton says he was excessively anxious to go, and yet he never
+showed the least impatience or disappointment when he found he could not
+be spared."
+
+"He must have felt that he was bound to his grandfather."
+
+"He nursed him just like a woman, Lady Dighton says, and one could fancy
+it. Could not you, mamma?"
+
+"I don't find it difficult to believe anything good of Maurice."
+
+"Oh! and then she told me about Hunsdon. She was born there, and lived
+there till she was married. She told me all about why Mr. Beresford left
+it to Maurice, and not to her. But, mamma, I cannot understand how
+Maurice can be so long away from home. I should think he must have
+quantities of things to attend to; and she told me Sir John was always
+busy, though his estate is not so large as Hunsdon. Only think, mamma,
+of Maurice, our Maurice, having more than ten thousand a year!"
+
+"Well, dear, since we have come to talking of our neighbour's fortunes,
+I think we had better go to bed."
+
+"Oh! yes; how thoughtless I am, keeping you up so. And I must be early
+to-morrow, for Lady Dighton is coming to see you, and Maurice wants me
+to go with him for a walk first. Not to see anything, but just for a
+walk."
+
+Mrs. Costello lay down that night with a great feeling of content with
+regard to her daughter's future.
+
+"Certainly," she thought, "Maurice may be satisfied with the affection
+she has for him; if it is not just the kind of love he wishes for, that
+is only because it has never entered her mind that he could be anything
+but a brother to her. She is so excessively childish in some things! I
+shall be glad now when she really does begin to understand. Only, must I
+part with her? Better that than that I should leave her alone; better
+even than that she should have to go among strange relatives."
+
+Maurice had asked Lucia to walk with him for the sake of having her
+quite to himself for an hour, and perhaps of asking that much meditated
+question. He had specially bargained that they were not to "go
+anywhere;" but simply to choose a tolerably quiet road and go straight
+along it. Accordingly they started, and went slowly up the sunny slope
+towards the great arch, talking of yesterday, and of the trifles which
+always seemed interesting when they spoke of them together. After they
+had passed the barrier, they hesitated a little which road to take--they
+had already made several expeditions in this direction, and Lucia wanted
+novelty. Finally they took the road to Neuilly, and went on for a time
+very contentedly. But Maurice, after a while, fell into little fits of
+silence, thinking how he should first speak of the subject most
+important to him. He felt that there could be no better opportunity than
+this, and he was not cool enough to reflect that it was waste of trouble
+to try to choose his words, since if Lucia accepted him she would for
+ever think them eloquent; and if she refused him, would be certain to
+consider them stupid. She, on the other hand, was in unusually high
+spirits. It had occurred to her that Lady Dighton, who seemed to know
+everybody, would probably know Percy. She had begun already to lay deep
+plans for finding out if this was the case, and after that, where he
+was at present. She had thought of him so much lately, and so tenderly;
+she had remembered so often his earnestness and her own harshness in
+that last interview, that she felt as if she owed him some reparation,
+and as if his love were far more ardent than hers, and must needs be
+more stable also. The idea that she had advanced a step towards the
+happiness of meeting him again, added the last ingredient to her
+content. She could have danced for joy.
+
+They walked a considerable distance, and Maurice had not yet found
+courage for what he wanted to say. Lucia began to think of her mother's
+loneliness, and proposed to return; he would have tempted her further,
+but a strange shyness and embarrassment seemed to have taken possession
+of him. They had actually turned round and begun to walk towards home
+before he had found a reason for not doing it.
+
+"Lucia," he said abruptly, after one of the pauses which had been
+growing more and more frequent, "don't you wish to go over to England?"
+
+"Of course I do," she answered with some surprise; "I wish we _could_
+go. You know I always used to wish it."
+
+"Why don't you try now you are so near?"
+
+"Surely, Maurice, you know mamma cannot go."
+
+"I remember hearing something about your grandfather having wished her
+not to do so. Forgive me if it is a painful subject; but do not you see
+that things are quite changed now?"
+
+"Do you think she could, then? But I _don't_ see."
+
+"Her father, I suppose, wished to avoid the chance of her marriage being
+gossipped about. His idea of her going back to England was naturally
+that she would go among her own relations and old acquaintance who knew
+the story. Now, I believe that she might go to any other part of the
+island--say Norfolk, for instance--and obey his wishes just as much as
+by staying in Paris."
+
+"To Norfolk? Why, then, we should be near you? Oh! do try to persuade
+her."
+
+"I must have you decidedly on my side then. I must be enabled to offer
+her a great inducement. If, for instance, I could tell her that you had
+made up your mind to come and live in Norfolk, she might say yes."
+
+"Ah! but she would have to make up her mind first. See Maurice," she
+broke in abruptly, "what is that little building on the other side the
+road? There are some people who look like English going in."
+
+"Don't mind that now, I want to talk to you."
+
+"We have been talking. Only tell me what it is?"
+
+"It is a chapel built on the place where the Duke of Orleans was killed
+some years ago."
+
+"I remember now somebody told me about it; his monument is there."
+
+"Very likely. I know nothing about it."
+
+"Oh, Maurice! to speak in that tone, when it was such a sad thing."
+
+"There are so many sad things--one cannot pity everybody."
+
+"You are cross this morning. What is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing. What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Just now I want you to take me in there. I see it is open."
+
+There was no help; the moment was gone. Lucia's head was full of the
+unhappy Duke of Orleans, and it would, have been very bad policy,
+Maurice thought, to oppose her whim. He rang the bell, and they were
+admitted without difficulty into the open space in front of the chapel.
+The old man who let them in pointed to the half-open door, and, saying
+that his wife was in there with a party, retreated, and left them to
+find their own way into the building itself. They passed quietly through
+the entrance and into the soft grey light of the chapel. Lucia stopped
+only to take one glance of the tiny interior, so coldly mournful with
+its black draperies and chill white and grey marble, and then passed
+round to examine more closely the monument which marks the very spot
+where the fatal accident occurred. Maurice followed her. They stood half
+concealed by the monument, and speaking low, while the tones of other
+voices could be distinctly heard from the recess behind the altar where
+the English visitors were examining the picture of the Duke's death.
+There was one rather high-pitched female voice which broke the solemn
+stillness unpleasantly, and as it became more audible, Lucia laid her
+hand softly on Maurice's arm to make him listen, and looked up in his
+face with eyes full of laughter. The lady was talking French to the
+guide with a strong English accent and in a peculiar drawl, which had a
+very droll effect. It was a manner new to them both, though Maurice
+could not help thinking, as he listened, of Percy in his worst moods.
+
+"I am glad to have seen it," the voice said, "and quite by chance, too;
+it is excessively interesting, so melancholy. Ah! you say that they laid
+him just there? It makes one shudder! No, I will not go near the place;
+it is too shocking."
+
+At the last words Maurice and Lucia saw the speaker emerge from behind
+the altar on the side furthest from where they stood. She was a tall
+woman, neither young nor pretty, but very fashionable--distinguished,
+Lucia supposed she should be called; and but for the peculiarity of her
+voice, would have made a favourable rather than an unfavourable
+impression on a stranger. She stopped just at the top of the steps, and
+turned round to speak again to some one behind her who was still
+concealed by the altar. This time she spoke English in a lower tone, and
+with a greater drawl.
+
+"Really, Edward," she said, "it is very small. Pray don't give the
+woman much; you know how heavy our expenses are. I think I ought to
+carry the purse."
+
+"As you please, my dear; it would save me trouble, certainly."
+
+At the sound of that second voice Maurice started and looked at Lucia.
+She had suddenly grasped at the stonework before her, and stood looking
+with passionate eagerness over the carved figure of the dying Duke
+towards the altar. He almost shuddered at the intensity of that
+gaze--the rigidity of intolerable suspense in her whole figure; but he
+could only be still and watch her.
+
+The unconscious Englishwoman moved on; close behind her, following her
+with his old languid manner, came the man Lucia was watching for--Edward
+Percy.
+
+Still she never stirred. They passed down the chapel with her eyes upon
+them, but they never saw her, and she made no sound or movement. Only
+when they were no longer in sight, everything seemed to grow suddenly
+black and confused about her--her hold upon the marble relaxed, and she
+would have fallen if Maurice had not gently supported her, and drawn her
+to a seat close by.
+
+She did not faint, though she was cold and white and powerless. After a
+minute Maurice, bending over her, saw that she was trying to speak. Her
+lips seemed stiff and hardly able to form the words, but he made out,
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+He hesitated a moment; but she saw that he _could_ answer, and her eyes
+insisted on her question.
+
+"She is his wife," he answered; "they were married, I believe, a month
+or six weeks ago."
+
+Suddenly, at his words, the blood seemed to rise with one quick rush to
+her very temples.
+
+"You knew," she said, "and would not tell me!"
+
+Then after her momentary anger came shame, bitter and intolerable, for
+her self-betrayal. She bent down her face on her hands, but her whole
+figure shook with violent agitation. Maurice suffered scarcely less. His
+love for her gave him a comprehension of all, and a sympathy unspeakable
+with her pain. He laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as he had often
+done in her childish troubles, but one word escaped him which he had
+never spoken to her before,
+
+"My darling! my darling!"
+
+Perhaps she did not hear it; but at least she understood that through
+all the pang of her loss, there remained with her one faithful and
+perfect affection; and even at that moment she was unconsciously
+comforted.
+
+But the Percys were gone, and the guide was coming back into the chapel
+after a word or two at the door with her husband; Maurice had to decide
+instantly what to do. He said to Lucia,
+
+"Wait here for me," and then going forward to meet the woman, he
+contrived to make her comprehend that the lady was ill; and that he was
+going for a carriage. He then hurried out, and Lucia was left alone in
+the chapel with the good-natured Frenchwoman, who looked at her
+compassionately and troubled her with no questions.
+
+For a few minutes the poor child remained too bewildered to notice
+anything; but when at last she raised her head, and saw that Maurice was
+not there, she grew frightened. Had she been so childish and
+uncontrolled as to have disgusted even him? Had he left her, too? She
+tried to get up from her seat, but she could not stand. The guide saw
+her attempt, and thought it time to interfere.
+
+"Monsieur would be back immediately," she said. "He was gone for a
+carriage. It was unfortunate madame should be taken ill so suddenly."
+
+Lucia smiled a very miserable kind of smile.
+
+"Yes," she answered, "it was unfortunate, but it was only a little
+giddiness."
+
+And there she broke off to listen to the sound of wheels which stopped
+at the gate.
+
+It was Maurice; and at the sight of him Lucia felt strong again. She
+rose and met him as he came towards her.
+
+"I have got a carriage," he said. "We had walked too far. Can you go to
+it?"
+
+She could find nothing to say in answer. He made her lean on his arm,
+and took her across the court and put her into the vehicle.
+
+"Would you rather go alone?" he asked her.
+
+"Oh! no, no," she cried nervously, and in a minute afterwards they were
+on their way homewards.
+
+When they had started, she put her hand to her head confusedly.
+
+"Is not it strange?" she said half to herself. "I was sure we should
+meet in Paris; only I never guessed it would be to-day. Across a grave,
+that was right."
+
+Maurice shuddered at her tone; it sounded as if she were talking in her
+sleep.
+
+"Dear Lucia," he said, "scold me, be angry with me. I should have told
+you."
+
+She seemed to wake at the sound of his voice, and again that burning,
+painful flush covered her face and neck.
+
+"Oh! Maurice," she cried, "it is you who should scold me. What must you
+think? But, indeed, I am not so bad as I seem."
+
+"It is I who have been blind. I thought you had forgotten him."
+
+"Forgotten him? So soon? I thought he could not even have forgotten me!"
+
+Maurice clenched his hand. The very simplicity of her words stirred his
+anger more deeply against his successful rival. For _her_ he had still
+nothing but the most pitiful tenderness.
+
+"Some men, Lucia, love themselves too well to have any great love for
+another."
+
+"But he did care for me. I want to tell you. I want you to see that I
+am not quite so bad--he did care for me very much, and I sent him away."
+
+"You refused him?"
+
+"Not just that. At first, you know, I thought everything could be made
+to come right in time--and then mamma told me all that terrible story
+about her marriage, and about the constant fear she was in; and then--I
+could not tell that to him--so I said he must go away. And he did; but
+he told me perhaps in a year I should change my mind. And the year is
+not over yet."
+
+Maurice was silent. He would not, if he could help it, say one word of
+evil to Lucia about this man whom she still loved; and at first he could
+not trust himself to speak.
+
+"How did you know?" she asked.
+
+And he understood instinctively what she meant, and told her shortly
+when and where he had seen Percy, and what he had heard from the
+solicitor.
+
+"It is the same lady, then," she said, "that I remember hearing of."
+
+"Yes, no doubt. I recollect some story being told of him and her, even
+in Cacouna."
+
+Lucia sighed heavily. She had now got over the difficulty of speaking on
+the subject to Maurice. She knew so well that he was trustworthy, and
+for the rest, was he not just the same as a brother?
+
+"He might have waited a year," she murmured. "You cannot imagine how
+happy I have been lately, thinking I must see him soon!"
+
+"Cannot I?" Maurice cried desperately. "Listen to me, Lucia! I, too,
+have been happy lately. I have been living on a false hope. I have been
+deceived, and placed all my trust in a shadow. Don't you think we ought
+to be able to feel for each other?"
+
+His vehemence and the bitterness of his tone terrified her. She laid her
+little trembling hand on his appealingly.
+
+"What do you mean?" she whispered.
+
+But he had controlled himself instantly. He took hold of her hand and
+put it to his lips.
+
+"I mean nothing," he said, "at least nothing I can tell you about at
+present. Are you feeling strong enough to meet Mrs. Costello? You must
+not frighten her, you know, as you did me."
+
+"Did I frighten you? I am so sorry and ashamed--only, you know--Yes, I
+can behave well now."
+
+He saw that she could. Her self-command had entirely returned now. Her
+grieving would be silent or kept for solitude henceforward. They had
+already passed the barrier, and in a minute would stop at the door.
+
+"I am not coming in with you," Maurice said, "I must go on now; but I
+shall see you this evening."
+
+He saw her inside the house and then drove away, while she little
+guessed how sore a heart he took with him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+As Lucia went up the staircase, the slight stimulus of excitement which
+Maurice's presence had supplied, died out, and she began to be conscious
+of a horrible depression and sense of vacancy. She went up with a step
+that grew more tired and languid at every movement, till she reached the
+door where Claudine was having a little gossip with the concierge.
+
+She was glad even to be saved the trouble of ringing, and glided past
+the two "like a ghaist," and came into her mother's presence with that
+same weary gait and white face. It was not even until Mrs. Costello rose
+in alarm and surprise with anxious questions on her lips that the poor
+child became aware of the change in herself.
+
+"I am tired," she said. "I have such a headache, mamma," and she tried
+to wake herself out of her bewilderment and look natural.
+
+"Where is Maurice?"
+
+"He is gone--he is coming back this evening, I think he said."
+
+Mrs. Costello guessed instantly that Maurice was the cause of Lucia's
+disturbance.
+
+"Poor child!" she thought; "it could not help but be a surprise to her.
+I wonder if all is going well?" But she dared not speak of that subject
+just yet.
+
+"You must have walked much too far," she said aloud. "Go and lie down,
+darling--I will come with you."
+
+Lucia obeyed. She was actually physically tired, as she said, and her
+head did ache with a dull heavy pain. Mrs. Costello arranged the
+pillows, drew warm coverings over her, and left her without one further
+question; for she was completely persuaded of the truth of her own
+surmise, and feared to endanger Maurice's hopes and her own favourite
+plan by an injudicious word. She did not go far away, however, and
+Lucia, still conscious of her nearness, dared not move or sigh. With her
+face pressed close to the pillow, she could let the hot tears which
+seemed to scald her eyes drop from under the half-closed lids; but after
+a little while, the warmth and stillness and her fatigue began to have
+their effect. The tears ceased to drop, the one hand which had grasped
+the edge of the covering relaxed, and she dropped asleep.
+
+By-and-by Mrs. Costello came in softly, and stood looking at her. She
+lay just like a child with her pale cheeks still wet, and the long black
+lashes glistening. Her little hand, so slender and finely shaped, rested
+lightly against the pillow; her soft regular breathing just broke the
+complete stillness enough to give the aspect of sleep, instead of that
+of death. She was fair enough, in her sweet girlish beauty and
+innocence, to have been a poet's or an artist's inspiration. The
+mother's eyes grew very dim as she looked at her child, but she never
+guessed that there had been more than the stir of surprise in her heart
+that day--that she was "sleeping for sorrow."
+
+It was twilight in the room when Lucia woke. She came slowly to the
+recollection of the past, and the consciousness of the present, and
+without moving began to gather up her thoughts and understand what had
+happened to her, and why she had slept. The door was ajar, and voices
+could be faintly heard talking in the salon. She even distinguished her
+mother's tones, and Lady Dighton's, but there were no others. It was a
+relief to her. She thought she ought to get up and go to them, but if
+Maurice had been there, or even Sir John, she felt that her courage
+would have failed. She raised herself up, and pushed back her disordered
+hair; with a hand pressed to each temple, she tried to realize how she
+had awoke that very morning, hopeful and happy, and that she had had a
+dreadful loss which was _her own_--only hers, and could meet with no
+sympathy from others. But then she remembered that it had met with
+sympathy already--not much in words, but in tone and look and
+action--from the one unfailing friend of her whole life. Maurice
+knew--Maurice did not contemn her--there was a little humiliation in the
+thought, but more sweetness. She went over the whole scene in the
+chapel, and for the first time there came into her mind a sense of the
+inexpressible tenderness which had soothed her as she sat there half
+stupefied.
+
+"Dear Maurice!" she said to herself, and then as her recollection grew
+more vivid, a sudden shame seized her--neck and arms and brow were
+crimson in a moment, with the shock of the new idea--and she sprang up
+and began to dress, in hopes to escape from it by motion.
+
+But before she was ready to leave the room her sorrow had come back, too
+strong and bitter to leave place for other thoughts. The vivid hope of
+Percy's faithful recollection enduring at least for a year, had come to
+give her strength and courage in the very time when her youthful
+energies had almost broken down under the weight of so many troubles; it
+had been a kind of prop on which she leaned through her last partings
+and anxieties, and which seemed to be the very foundation of her recent
+content. To have it struck away from her suddenly, left her helpless and
+confused; her own natural forces, or the support of others, might
+presently supply its place, but for the moment she did not know where to
+look to satisfy the terrible want.
+
+She went out, however, to face her small world, with what resolution she
+could muster, and was not a little glad that the dim light would save
+her looks from any close scrutiny.
+
+Lady Dighton had been paying a long visit to Mrs. Costello, and the two
+perfectly understood each other. They both thought, also, that they
+understood what had occurred that morning, and why Lucia had a headache.
+Maurice had not made his appearance at his cousin's luncheon, as she
+expected, but that was not wonderful. Lady Dighton, however, had said to
+Mrs. Costello,
+
+"It is quite extraordinary to me how Lucia can have seen Maurice's
+perfect devotion to her, and not perceived that it was more than
+brotherly."
+
+Mrs. Costello did not feel bound to explain that Lucia's thoughts, as
+far as they had ever been occupied at all with love, had been drawn away
+in quite a different direction, so she contented herself with answering,
+
+"She is very childish in some things, and she has been all her life
+accustomed to think of him as a brother. I knew he would have some
+difficulty at first in persuading her to think otherwise."
+
+"He can't have failed?"
+
+"I hope not. She has not told me anything, and therefore I do not
+suppose there is anything decisive to tell."
+
+After their conversation the two naturally looked with interest for
+Lucia's coming. They heard her stirring, and exchanged a few more words,
+
+"Perhaps we shall know now?"
+
+"At any rate, Maurice will enlighten us when he arrives."
+
+Lucia came in, gliding silently through the dim light. Her quiet
+movement was unconscious--she would have chosen to appear more, rather
+than less, animated than usual. Lady Dighton came forward to meet her.
+
+"So you walked too far this morning?" she said. "I think it was a little
+too bad when you knew I was coming to see you to-day."
+
+"I did not think I should be so tired," Lucia answered, and the friendly
+dusk hid her blush at her own disingenuousness.
+
+"Are you quite rested, my child?" Mrs. Costello asked anxiously.
+
+"Yes, mamma. My head aches a little still, but it will soon be better, I
+dare say. I am ashamed of being so lazy."
+
+"Where is Maurice?" said Lady Dighton. "I expected to have found him
+here, as he did not come in for lunch."
+
+"Has he not been with you then? He left me at the door, and said he
+would come back this evening."
+
+"He has not been with me, certainly, though he promised to be. I thought
+you were answerable for his absence."
+
+Lucia did not reply. Her heart beat fast, and the last words kept
+ringing in her ears, "you were answerable for his absence." Was she
+answerable for _any_ doings of Maurice's? Had that morning's meeting, so
+strange and sudden for her, disturbed him too? She could only be silent
+and feel as if she had been accused, justly accused--but of what?
+
+Meanwhile, her silence, which was not that of indifference, seemed to
+prove that the conjectures of the other two were right. They even
+ventured to exchange glances of intelligence, but Mrs. Costello hastened
+to fill up the break in the conversation.
+
+"Is it true," she inquired of her visitor, "that you talk of going home
+next week?"
+
+"Yes; we only came for a fortnight at the longest; and as the affair
+which brought us over seems to be happily progressing, there is no
+reason for delay."
+
+"Oh! I am sorry," Lucia said impulsively. "Maurice goes with you, does
+not he?"
+
+"_Cela dépend_--he is not obliged to go just then, I suppose?"
+
+"But surely he ought. We must make him go."
+
+"And yet you would be sorry to lose him?"
+
+"Of course; only--"
+
+Another of those unexplained pauses! It was certainly a tantalizing
+state of affairs, though, in fact, this last one did but mean, "only he
+must be neglecting his affairs while he stops here." Lucia merely broke
+off because she felt as if Lady Dighton might think the words an
+impertinence.
+
+Soon after this they parted. Something was said about to-morrow, but
+they finally left all arrangements to be made when Maurice should
+appear, which it was supposed he would do at dinner to the Dightons, and
+after it to the Costellos.
+
+Dinner had been long over in the little apartment in the Champs Elysées
+when Maurice arrived there. The mother and daughter were sitting
+together as usual, but in unusual silence--Lucia absorbed in thought,
+Mrs. Costello watching and wondering, but still refraining from asking
+questions. Maurice came in, looking pale and tired. Lucia got up, and
+drew a chair for him near her mother. It was done with a double object;
+she wanted to express her grateful affection, and she wanted to manage
+so as to be herself out of his sight. He neither resisted her
+man[oe]uvre nor even saw it, but sat down wearily and began to reply to
+her mother's questions.
+
+"I have been out of town. I had seen nothing of the country round Paris,
+so I thought I would make an excursion."
+
+"An excursion all alone?"
+
+"Yes; I have been to St. Denis."
+
+"How did you go?"
+
+"By rail. I started to come back by an omnibus I saw out there, but I
+did not much care about that mode of conveyance, so I got out and
+walked."
+
+"Have you seen Lady Dighton?"
+
+"I have seen no one. I am but just come back."
+
+"Maurice! Have you not dined, then?"
+
+"No. Never mind that. I will have some tea with you, please, by-and-by."
+
+But Lucia had received a glance from her mother, and was gone already to
+try what Claudine's resources could produce. Mrs. Costello leaned
+forward, and laid her hand entreatingly on Maurice's arm,
+
+"Tell me what all this means?" she said.
+
+He tried to smile as he returned her look, but his eyes fell before the
+earnestness of hers.
+
+"What what means?" he asked.
+
+"Both you and Lucia know something I don't know," she answered. "I would
+rather question you than her. Has she troubled you?"
+
+"Not in the way you think," he answered quickly. "I have partly changed
+my plans. I shall be obliged to go back to England with my cousin. Don't
+question Lucia, dear Mrs. Costello, let her be in peace for awhile."
+
+"In peace? But she has been in peace--happy as the day was long,
+lately."
+
+"She is disturbed now--yes, it is my fault--and I will do penance for
+it. You understand I do not give up my hopes--I only defer them."
+
+"But, Maurice, I _don't_ understand. You are neither changeable, nor
+likely to give Lucia any excuse for being foolish. Why should you go
+away? She exclaimed how sorry she was when your cousin spoke of it."
+
+"Did she? But I am only a brother to her yet. Don't try to win more
+just now for me, lest she should give me less."
+
+"Well, of course, you know your own affairs best. But it is totally
+incomprehensible to me."
+
+Maurice leaned his head upon his hands. He had had a miserable day, and
+was feeling broken down and wretched. He spoke hopefully, but in his
+heart he doubted whether it would not be better to give Lucia up at once
+and altogether, only he had a strong suspicion that to give her up was
+not a thing within the power of his will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+The evening passed in constraint and embarrassment. Mrs. Costello was
+both puzzled and annoyed; Maurice, worn out in mind and body, and only
+resolute to shield Lucia at his own expense; Lucia herself more
+thoroughly uncomfortable than she had ever been in her life. She partly
+understood Maurice's conduct, but doubted its motives. Sometimes she
+thought he was influenced by his old dislike to Percy, and that even his
+kindness to herself was mixed with disapproval or contempt. Sometimes a
+suspicion of the truth, so faint and so unreasonable in her own eyes,
+that she would not acknowledge it for a moment, flashed across her mind;
+and this suspicion had its keenly humiliating as well as its comforting
+side. Besides the confusion of thoughts regarding these things, her mind
+was burdened with an entirely new trouble--the sense that she was
+concealing something from her mother; and this alone would have been
+quite sufficient to disturb and distress her.
+
+So the three who had been so happy for the last few weeks sat together,
+with all their content destroyed. Maurice thought bitterly of the old
+Canadian days, which had been happy, too, and to which Percy's coming
+had brought trouble.
+
+"It is the same thing over again," he said to himself; "but why such a
+fellow as that should be allowed to do so much mischief is a problem _I_
+can't solve. A tall idiot, who could not even care for her like a man!"
+
+But he would not allow himself any hard thoughts of Lucia. Perhaps he
+had had some during his solitary day, but he had no real cause for them,
+and he was too loyal to find any consolation in blaming her. And it
+never would have come into his head to solace himself with the "having
+known _me_." He valued his own honest, unaltering love at a reasonable
+but not an excessive, price--himself at a very low one; and as Lucia
+understood nothing of the one, he did not wonder that she should slight
+the other. And yet he was very miserable.
+
+Ten o'clock came at last, and he went away. After he was gone, Lucia
+came to her mother's knee, and sat down, resting her aching head against
+the arm of the chair. The old attitude, and the soft clinging touch,
+completely thawed the slight displeasure in Mrs. Costello's heart.
+
+"Something is wrong, darling," she said. "If you do not want to tell me,
+or think you ought not, remember I do not ask any questions; but you
+have never had a secret from me."
+
+Lucia raised her mother's hand, and laid it on her forehead.
+
+"I ought to tell you, mamma," she said, "and I want to; but yet I don't
+like."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You will be so angry; no, not that, perhaps, but you will be shocked,
+and yet I could not help it."
+
+"Help what? Do you know, Lucia, that you are really trying me now?"
+
+"Oh, mamma, no! I am not worth caring so much about."
+
+"Have you and Maurice quarrelled?"
+
+"Maurice! No, indeed. He is the best friend anybody ever had."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Mamma, do you remember what happened that first night at Cacouna?"
+
+"What first night?" Mrs. Costello pressed her hand upon her heart, which
+began to beat painfully.
+
+"The night when you told me about my father."
+
+"Yes; I remember. Go on."
+
+"And the next day?"
+
+"Yes. Don't tell me that you still regret it."
+
+"Mamma, I have seen him again."
+
+"To-day?"
+
+"To-day. At the chapel of St. Ferdinand."
+
+"Did he know you? Did you speak to him?"
+
+"No. He did not see us. He was thinking nothing of me."
+
+"He ought not to think of you."
+
+"Nor I of him. He is married."
+
+"I knew that he either was, or was about to be."
+
+"You have heard of him, then, since?" Lucia raised her head sharply, and
+looked at her mother.
+
+"Mrs. Bellairs told me. They had heard it indirectly."
+
+"If you had only told me!" Her head sank lower than before.
+
+"My darling, I may have been mistaken. I have been so, many times; but I
+wished to avoid mentioning him to you. I hoped you were forgetting."
+
+"Never; never for an hour," she said, half to herself. "No, mamma, for I
+thought he had not forgotten."
+
+"But you sent him away yourself, my child. Remember, you would not even
+let me see him. He could not have supposed that you meant your answer to
+be anything but decisive."
+
+"I did mean it to be decisive; but he refused to take it so. He said,
+'Perhaps in a year;' and it is not a year yet."
+
+Mrs. Costello listened in utter surprise. Lucia had much to say now.
+Broken words and sentences, which showed, by degrees, how her mind, as
+it recovered from the shock of other troubles, had gone back to dwell
+upon the hope of Percy's return, and which explained more fully why she
+had been so utterly blind to the schemes which were formed around her.
+In one point only she failed. She did not, with all her own faith in it,
+convey to her mother the impression of Percy's real earnestness in their
+last interview. That he had really loved her, she still believed; but
+she did not at all understand his shallow and easily-influenced
+character. Mrs. Costello, on the other hand, was predisposed to take the
+worst view, and to congratulate herself upon it, since it had helped to
+leave Lucia free. But not believing that the poor girl had been the
+object of a genuine, though transient passion, she for once was ready to
+judge her hardly, and to accuse her of having been wilfully and
+foolishly deceived.
+
+There was a bitter pang to the mother's heart in thinking this; but the
+recollections of her own youth made the idea the less improbable to her,
+and made her also the gentler, even in her injustice. She said not a
+word of blame, but coaxed from her child the story of the meeting that
+morning, that she might find out how much Maurice had seen or heard of
+the truth. He understood _all_. Lucia said so frankly, though she
+blushed at the confession; he had not needed to be told, and he had been
+so good!
+
+Mrs. Costello could have groaned aloud. It needed an effort to keep
+still, and not express the anger and impatience she felt. Maurice!
+Maurice, who was worth fifty Percys! Maurice, who was devoted heart and
+soul to this girl; who had been content to love her and wait for her,
+through good and evil fortune, through change and absence and silence,
+and, after all, she had no feeling for him but this heartless kind of
+gratitude! Because at the very last, when he had thought her certainly
+his own, he had endured, out of his great love, to see all his hopes
+swept away, and her grieving for his rival; therefore he had just so
+much claim upon her--"He was so good!"
+
+There was little more said. When once Lucia had told her story, and when
+Mrs. Costello had discovered that Maurice understood all, neither of
+them cared to talk on the subject. They went to bed with a cloud between
+them, after all. Mrs. Costello kept her secret still, and pondered over
+the question whether there might yet possibly be hope, since Maurice had
+said he had only deferred his wishes, not relinquished them. Lucia was
+aware that her trouble was still her own exclusively--not shared by any
+one, even her mother. She thought of Percy--she longed to know how long
+he had thought of her--how, and why he had changed; and deep down in her
+heart there was a little disturbed wondering at Maurice's
+tenderness--that very tenderness which Mrs. Costello marvelled she did
+not see.
+
+Maurice did not see his cousin that night. He went straight to his room,
+and without thinking, locked the door, put out the candles except one,
+and sat down in the gloom. His eyes and head ached--he felt weary and
+utterly dispirited. He had rushed away that morning after leaving Lucia
+at home, and found himself by the merest chance at St. Denis. He had got
+out there because his fellow-passengers did so, though at the railway
+station he had taken a ticket for a place much further on along the
+line. He had looked about the little town, and seen, in a blind
+blundering kind of way, the Cathedral. He had come out, with about
+half-a-dozen more visitors, and seeing an omnibus starting for Paris,
+had got into it, because it would take longer than the train--then after
+a while had got out again, because he could not bear the slow motion and
+perpetual babble of talk inside. But through all, and still more in his
+solitary walk, he had been thinking--thinking perpetually; and, after
+all, his thinking seemed yet to do. He would go back to England--that
+was necessary and right, whatever else might be. He was wanted there, as
+the pile of letters on his writing-table could testify. His father, too,
+was solitary at Hunsdon--and his business in Paris was over. But the
+Dightons would not go for some days, and he could not very well leave
+them after they had come over for his sake. He would have to stay,
+therefore, till they went; he would have to go on seeing the Costellos.
+He tried to fancy he was sorry for this, but the attempt was a very poor
+one. For a few days he would have to go on just as usual, and after that
+he would go home, and do what? That was just the question.
+
+Ought he to go on hoping now? Had not he done all he could do? Was it
+probable that a girl who had loved another man--and that man,
+Percy--faithfully for a whole year on the mere possibility that he might
+have remained faithful to her, and who had been throughout blind and
+insensible to a regard deeper and purer than his had ever been, would be
+able to transfer her heart whole and undivided as he must have it if he
+had it at all? He dared not think it. "No, I have lost her at last!" he
+said to himself, "and she is the one only woman in the world."
+
+Then he remembered, as if the reminder had been whispered in his ear, a
+promise he had made. It was one day during Mr. Beresford's illness, when
+his mind was a little clearer than usual. He had been trying feebly to
+return to his old interests, and speaking in his weak broken tones,
+about the future. He grew very tired after awhile, and Maurice persuaded
+him to try to sleep, but there was yet another thing to be said.
+
+"You must marry soon, Maurice."
+
+"I am young, sir, there is no hurry."
+
+"No--only let it be soon."
+
+"I must first find the lady."
+
+"I thought I could have helped you--but it is too late." Maurice was
+silent.
+
+"You _will_ marry?" and the old man tried to raise himself in his
+earnestness.
+
+"I hope to do so."
+
+"Don't talk of hoping--it is a duty, positive duty."
+
+"I mean to do so, then, grandfather."
+
+"Say 'I will'--promise me."
+
+"If I both hope and intend it, sir, is that not enough?"
+
+"No, no. Promise."
+
+"Well then, I promise."
+
+The invalid was satisfied, and in a few minutes dropped asleep, and the
+conversation almost passed from his grandson's mind.
+
+Now, however, he remembered it, as having bound him to something which
+might be a lifelong misery. He was young still; as he had said, there
+was time enough. But would any time make Lucia other than the first with
+him?
+
+At last he got up and began to pace up and down the room, pushing first
+one, and then another article of furniture aside to make room for his
+walk.
+
+"There is at least no further reason why she should not know all" he
+meditated. "Since my chance is gone, I cannot make matters worse by
+speaking, and it will be a relief to tell her." He paused, dwelling on
+the idea of his speaking and her listening--how differently from what he
+had thought of before--and then went on--"To-morrow is as good as any
+other time. To-morrow I will ask her to go out with me again--our last
+walk together."
+
+He stopped again. At last he grew tired even of his own thoughts. He
+lighted his candles again, and sat down to write letters. First to his
+father, to say that he was coming home, to give him all the news, to
+speak just as usual of the Costellos--even specially of Lucia; then to
+his agent, and to other people, till the streets began to grow noisy and
+the candles to burn dim in the dawn.
+
+Then he lay down, and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Maurice was scarcely awake next morning when a little note was brought
+him from his cousin. It was only two or three lines written late the
+night before, when she found that he did not come to their common
+sitting-room. It said, "What has come to all the world? I go to Mrs.
+Costello's, and find Lucia with a violent headache, and with her ideas
+apparently much confused. I come home, and hear and see nothing of you
+till night, when I am told you have gone to your room without stopping
+for a moment to satisfy my curiosity. You will be at breakfast? I want
+to see you.   LOUISA."
+
+He twisted the dainty sheet of paper round his fingers, while he slowly
+recalled the events of yesterday up to the point of his last decision,
+to see Lucia to-day and tell her how grievously he had been
+disappointed, and what she had been and still was to him. But then came
+the natural consequence of this; he would still, afterwards, have to
+meet both Lucia and her mother constantly for some days, and to behave
+to them just as usual. It had seemed to him already that to do so would
+be difficult; now he began to think it impossible. What to do then? To
+keep silence now and always, or to speak and then go away home, where he
+was needed? He must lose her sweet company--sweet to him still. He
+_must_ lose it, and what matter whether a few days sooner or later? It
+was better to see her once again, and go.
+
+He dressed hastily and went to the breakfast-room. Sir John always took
+an early stroll, and might not yet be back; was not, in fact, and Lady
+Dighton was there alone. Maurice only saw so much before he began to
+speak.
+
+"I am sorry," he said, "that you expected me last night. I came in very
+tired, and went straight to bed."
+
+"We waited dinner some time for you," Lady Dighton answered, "and you
+know how punctual Sir John is; but never mind now. You are looking ill,
+Maurice."
+
+"I am quite well. I am afraid I must go back to England though. Should
+you think me a barbarian if I started to-night and left you behind?"
+
+"Is something wrong? Your father is well?"
+
+"Quite well. But--I had letters last night. I am not certain that I must
+go, only I thought you ought to know at once that I might have to do
+so."
+
+"And Lucia? What will she say?"
+
+"I don't know. You will not tell her, please?"
+
+"Certainly not. I do not like carrying bad news. But you will see her no
+doubt before I do."
+
+Maurice hesitated a moment, and then made boldly a request which had
+been in his mind.
+
+"I want to see her. I should like to see her this morning if I could.
+Will you help me?"
+
+"You don't generally require help for that. But I suppose the fact is,
+you want to see her alone?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"I own I fancied you had settled your affairs yesterday; however, I
+_can_ help you, I think. Mrs. Costello half promised to go out with me
+some morning. I will go and try to carry her off to-day."
+
+"You are always kind, Louisa. What should I do without you?"
+
+"Ah! that is very pretty just now. By-and-by we shall see how much value
+you have for me."
+
+"Yes, you shall see."
+
+"But seriously, Maurice, you look wretched. One would say you had not
+slept for a week."
+
+"On the contrary, I slept later than usual to-day. It is that, I
+suppose, which makes me look dull. Here is Sir John. What time will your
+drive be?"
+
+They fixed the time, and as soon as breakfast was finished, Maurice went
+back to his room. He tore up the letters he had written last night, and
+wrote others announcing his return home, took them to the post himself,
+and then walked about in sheer inability to keep still, until it should
+be time to go to Mrs. Costello's.
+
+He made a tolerably long round, choosing always the noisiest, busiest
+streets, and came back to the hotel just as his cousin drove away. He
+followed her carriage, and passed it as it stood at Mrs. Costello's
+door, went on to the barrier, and coming back, found that it had
+disappeared. Now, therefore, probably Mrs. Costello was gone, and now,
+if ever, was his opportunity.
+
+When Claudine opened the door for "ce beau monsieur" she was aghast. He
+was positively "beau" no longer. He was pale and heavy-eyed. He actually
+seemed to have grown thinner. Even his frank smile and word of
+wonderfully English French had failed him. She went back to her kitchen
+in consternation. "Ce pauvre monsieur! C'est affreux! Something is wrong
+with him and mademoiselle. Ma foi, if _I_ had such a lover!"
+
+Mrs. Costello was gone, and Lucia sat alone, and very dreary. At
+Maurice's entrance she rose quickly; but kept her eyes averted so that
+his paleness did not strike her as it had done others. She coloured
+vividly, with a mixture of shame, pride, and gladness, at his coming;
+but she only said "Good morning," in a low undemonstrative tone, and
+they both sat down in silence.
+
+She had some little piece of work in her hands, but she did not go on
+with it, only kept twisting the thread round her fingers, and wondering
+what he would say; whether now that they were alone, he would refer to
+Percy; whether he would use his old privilege of blaming her when she
+did wrong.
+
+But she was not struck down helplessly now as she had been at first
+yesterday. She had begun to feel the stings of mortified pride, and was
+ready to turn fiercely upon anybody who should give her provocation.
+
+Maurice spoke first.
+
+"I came to say good-bye," he said. "I am obliged to go home."
+
+His words sounded curt and dry, just because he had such difficulty in
+making them steady at all, and she looked at him in her surprise, for
+the first time.
+
+"Not to-day? Is anything the matter?"
+
+"Nothing is the matter there. I told you I had business in Paris. Well,
+it is finished."
+
+"And you are going to-day?"
+
+"I start this evening."
+
+"We shall miss you."
+
+She felt a strange constraint creeping over her. She could not even
+express naturally her sorrow and disappointment at his going. She began
+again to have the feeling of being guilty, and accused, and being eager
+to defend herself without knowing how.
+
+"I shall not be far off, and you will know where to find me. When you
+want me, for whatever reason, you have only to write and I will come."
+
+"But I always want you," she answered half pettishly. "You said you
+would stay at least till Lady Dighton went away."
+
+Maurice got up and walked to the window.
+
+"I miscalculated," he said, coming back. "We all do sometimes, I
+suppose."
+
+He stood in a favourite attitude, leaning with one arm on the
+mantelpiece, and watching Lucia with a mixture of love and bitterness.
+His last words seemed to her a taunt, and tears of anger filled her
+eyes. She remained silent, and he had to speak again.
+
+"Do you care to know," he asked her, "what my business in Paris was?"
+
+"If you wish to tell me!"
+
+"Lucia! do not I wish to tell you everything? Could I have kept a secret
+which was always in my thoughts from you, do you suppose?"
+
+Lucia half rose. "That is not generous," she said. "You have no right to
+speak so. Yesterday you were kinder."
+
+"Yesterday I only thought of you. To-day I have had time to think a
+little of myself."
+
+"No doubt you are right. Only you ought not to have come to Paris--at
+least not to us. It would have been better if everything that belonged
+to our old life had been lost together."
+
+"Which means that you are quite willing to lose me?"
+
+"Willing? No. But I can understand that it is better."
+
+"Can you? You talk of losses--listen to what I have lost. You know what
+my life in Canada used to be--plenty of work, and not much money--but
+still reasonable hope of prosperity by-and-by. I used to make plans
+then, of having a home of my own, and I was not content that it should
+be just like other people's. I thought it would be the brightest,
+warmest, happiest home in the world. I _knew_ it would be if I only got
+what I wanted. A man can't have a home without a wife. I knew where my
+wife was to be found if ever I had one at all; and she was so sweet and
+good, and let me see so frankly that she liked and trusted me, that
+I--it was all vanity, Lucia--I never much doubted that in time I should
+make her love me."
+
+He stopped. Lucia was looking at him eagerly. Even yet she did not quite
+understand. "Go on," she said.
+
+"There was my mistake," he continued. "I might have won her then
+perhaps. But there came a visitor to the neighbourhood. He was
+handsome--at least women said so--and could make himself agreeable. He
+knew all about what people call the world--he had plenty of talk about
+all sorts of small topics. He was a very fine gentleman in fact, and you
+know what I was. Well, naturally enough, he wanted amusement. He looked
+about for it, I suppose, and was attracted by what had attracted
+me--no--I do not believe even that, for I loved her goodness, and he
+must have been caught by her beauty. At any rate, I had to go away and
+leave him near her; and I heard after a while that he was gone. That was
+late in autumn. Very early this year, I heard of his marriage; and I
+thought she had been unharmed.
+
+"My grandfather died, and I was rich enough to make that home I dreamed
+of, fit for its mistress. I went to find her. I found her, as I thought,
+lovelier and sweeter than ever. She seemed to feel more than ever that I
+was of some use and value to her--she made me believe that, next to her
+mother, she loved me best in the world. I delayed asking her to be my
+wife, only because our days were so happy, that I feared to disturb
+them--but I thought she was certainly mine.
+
+"Then, all at once, this man, this Percy, who had left her in her
+trouble--who was married--made his appearance, and I knew that she had
+loved him all the while--that she had never cared for me!"
+
+Long ago, Lucia had clasped her hands before her face. She sat trembling
+and cowering before this accuser. Involuntarily she said in her heart,
+"This is the true love. I have been blind--blind!"--but her words were
+frozen up--she bent forward as if under a blow--but made no sound.
+
+Maurice himself remained silent for a few minutes. He had spoken under a
+strong impulse of excitement, he hardly knew how. He, too, leaned his
+head upon his hand, but from under it he still watched the trembling
+girlish figure, which was the dearest thing in the world to him.
+Presently he saw a tear steal out from between her small fingers and
+fall glittering upon the black dress she wore. He moved uneasily--he had
+been surely very harsh. Another tear fell--tear of bitter humiliation,
+good for her to shed--then a third. He could not endure it. She might
+not love him, but that was no reason why he should turn her sisterly
+affection into hate. So he went to her, and laid his hand softly on one
+of hers, trying to draw it away. She let him do so after a moment, but
+her face remained just as much hidden.
+
+"Lucia!" he said, full of distress, "Lucia! speak to me."
+
+She could not--all her efforts were needed to keep down the painful
+swelling in her throat. She was fighting for power to say humbly, "Try
+to forgive me," but he did not give her time.
+
+"If you would only say good-bye--only one word;" and he almost knelt
+beside her, raising her cold hand half-unconsciously to his lips.
+
+She drew it away suddenly. His tenderness was the worst reproach of all.
+Her sobs burst out without control. She rose. "No; rather forgive me,"
+she tried to say, but her voice was choked and hardly audible; and she
+fled from the room, hurrying into her own, and fell down on the floor at
+the bedside.
+
+Maurice waited for awhile, thinking she might come back. He sat down
+near where her chair stood, and leaning both elbows on the table, tried
+to calm himself after the terrible excitement. Lucia's tears and her
+silence had utterly disarmed him--he called himself a brute for having
+distressed her. But as time went on, and she did not return, he
+remembered that he could not just then meet Mrs. Costello, and he got up
+and began to walk about the room uneasily. Still, time went on, and
+there was no sign of Lucia. He wished to knock at her door, but dared
+not. He must go then without one good-bye!
+
+"That is my own fault at any rate," he said, and went away softly,
+without even seeing Claudine.
+
+But, as it happened, Mrs. Costello was long coming back. Lady Dighton
+had confided to her Maurice's wish to see Lucia alone, and the two
+ladies, very happy and confidential over their schemes, both supposing
+that nothing but good could come of a long talk between the young
+people--prolonged their absence till more than two hours after Maurice
+had returned to the hotel. So that his preparations for leaving Paris
+were almost completed by the time that Lucia, hearing her mother's
+entrance, came out of the solitude where she had hidden her tears and
+her repentance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Lucia tried to hide the traces of her tears, but the attempt was not
+particularly successful. Mrs. Costello saw at once that something was
+wrong; she asked whether Maurice had been there, and was told briefly
+yes, but she delayed any other questions for two reasons. One was, that
+merely saying that "Yes" had brought a quiver over Lucia's face, and the
+other, that she herself was tired and had got into a habit of dreading
+any kind of excitement. She felt a presentiment that there was nothing
+pleasant to hear, and at the same time was quite sure that whatever
+there was, her daughter would be unable to keep long from her.
+
+She allowed Lucia to carry away her bonnet and shawl, and arrange her
+comfortably on the sofa for a rest. Then she began to describe her
+drive, and the shops at which Lady Dighton had been making various
+purchases. Lucia listened, and tried to be interested, and to lose the
+sense of shame and mortification mixed with real compunction, which was
+making her wretched. But her heart ached, and besides, she had cried,
+sitting all alone on her bedroom floor, till she was exhausted and half
+blind. All the while her mother talked, she kept thinking of
+Maurice--she neither called him "Poor Maurice," in her thoughts, nor
+"Dear Maurice"--but only "Maurice, Maurice," over and over again--her
+friend who was gone from her, whom she had justly lost.
+
+But when she was growing more and more absorbed in her own regrets, and
+her mother's voice was beginning to sound to her like one in a dream,
+there came a sudden sharp ring at the door-bell. Could it be Maurice?
+She grew red as fire while she listened--but the door opened and shut,
+and there were no steps but Claudine's in the hall.
+
+The maid came in. "A letter for madame, and a packet for
+mademoiselle,"--both directed by Maurice.
+
+Lucia took hers to the window. She scarcely dared to open it, but she
+feared to appear to hesitate. Slowly she broke the seals, and found a
+tiny morocco case and a note. She hardly looked at the case, the note
+would be Maurice's farewell, and she did not know whether it would bring
+reproach or forgiveness with it. It was not long--even with her dazzled
+eyes, she was not more than a minute reading it.
+
+
+
+"My dear old playfellow and pupil"--it began--"I cannot leave Paris
+without saying 'Good-bye,' and asking you to forgive me, not for what I
+said this morning, but for the way in which I said it. If you cannot
+love me (and I understand now that you cannot) it is not your fault; and
+I ought to have remembered that, even when it seemed hardest. I cannot
+stay here now; but you will recollect that if ever you _want_ me--as a
+friend or brother, you know--a single line will be enough to bring me to
+your help. Finally, I beg of you, for the sake of old times, to wear the
+ring I send. I bought it for you--you ought to have no scruple in
+accepting a keepsake from your oldest friend,       MAURICE LEIGH."
+
+
+
+In the little box was the ring bought so long ago in Liverpool. It
+flashed, as if with the light of living eyes, as Lucia opened the lid.
+She regarded it for a moment almost with fear, then took it out and
+placed it on her finger--the third finger of her left hand. It fitted
+perfectly, and seemed to her like the embodiment of a watchful guardian
+who would keep her from wrong and from evil. She fancied this, though
+just then two or three drops fell heavily from her eyes, and one rested
+for a moment on the very diamonds themselves.
+
+Mrs. Costello's note was longer than Lucia's, and she read it twice
+over, before she was sure that she comprehended it. Then she called
+sharply "Lucia!"
+
+"Come here," she said, as the girl turned her face reluctantly; and
+there was nothing to do but to obey. Lucia came to the side of the sofa,
+where her mother had raised herself up against the cushions, but she
+trembled so, that to steady herself she dropped down on her knees on a
+footstool. Her right arm rested on the table, but the other hand, where
+the ring was, lay hidden in the folds of her dress.
+
+"What does this mean, Lucia?" Mrs. Costello asked in a tone which she
+had never in her life used to her daughter before. "Are you out of your
+senses?"
+
+Lucia was silent. She could almost have said yes.
+
+"You know of course that Maurice is gone?"
+
+"Yes I know it," she answered just audibly.
+
+"Gone, and not likely to return?"
+
+"He tells me so."
+
+"What have you said to him?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing! That is absurd. Why did he wish to see you alone to-day?"
+
+"To tell _me_ something," Lucia said with a little flash of opposition
+awakened by her mother's anger.
+
+"Yes--I thought so. To tell you something which, to any girl in the
+world who was not inconceivably blind or inconceivably vain, would have
+been the best news she ever heard in her life. And you said _nothing_?"
+
+"Mamma, it is over. I can't help it."
+
+"So he says--he, who is not much in the habit of talking nonsense, says
+this to me. Just listen. 'We have both made the mistake of reasoning
+about a thing with which reason has nothing to do. I see the error now
+too late for myself, but not, I hope, too late to leave her in peace.
+Pray do not speak to her about it at all.' But it is my duty to speak."
+
+"Mamma, Maurice is right. It is too late."
+
+"It is not too late for him to get some little justice; and it is not
+too late for you to know what you have lost."
+
+"Oh! I do know," she cried out. "But even if there had been no other
+reason, how could I have been different? He never told me till to-day."
+And she clasped her two hands together on the edge of the table and hid
+her face on them.
+
+Mrs. Costello leaned a little more forward, and touched her daughter's
+arm.
+
+"I must speak to you about this, Lucia," she said. "I do not want to be
+harsh, but you ought to know what you have done. And, good heavens! for
+what? A stranger, a mere coxcomb comes in your way, and you listen to
+his fine words, and straight begin to be able to see nothing but him,
+though the most faithful, generous heart a girl ever had offered to her
+is in your very hand! _I_ was bad enough--but I had no such love as
+Maurice's to leave behind me."
+
+Again Lucia moved, without speaking. As she did so, the ring on her hand
+flashed.
+
+"What is that on your finger?" Mrs. Costello asked.
+
+"Maurice's ring. _He_ was not so hard on me."
+
+"Hard?" Mrs. Costello was pressing her hand more and more tightly to her
+side. "Child, it is you that have been hard with your unconscious ways."
+
+But Lucia had found power to speak at last.
+
+"After all," she said obstinately, "I neither see why I should be
+supposed to have done wrong, nor why anybody else should be spoken of
+so. It is no harm, and no shame," she went on, raising her head, and
+showing her burning cheeks, "for a girl to like somebody who cares very
+much for her; and I think she would be a poor creature if she did not go
+on caring for him as long as she believed he was true to her."
+
+The little spark of pride died out with the last words, and there was a
+faint quiver in her voice.
+
+"Maurice would say so himself," she ended, triumphantly.
+
+"Of course he would. But I don't see that Maurice would be a fair judge
+of the case. The question is, what does a girl deserve who has to choose
+between Maurice and Percy, and chooses Percy?"
+
+Lucia recoiled. She could hardly yet bear to hear the name she had been
+dreaming over so long spoken in so harsh a way, and still less to hear
+it coupled in this way with Maurice's.
+
+"Maurice will soon find somebody else," she said. "He is not a poor man,
+mamma, that he should mind so much."
+
+Mrs. Costello half rose from the sofa. Pain and anger together
+overpowered her. She stood up for a moment, trying to speak, and then
+suddenly fell back, fainting.
+
+Lucia sprang from her knees. Was her mother dead? It was possible, she
+knew. Had they parted for ever in anger? But the idea, from its very
+horror, did not affect her as a lighter fear might have done. She
+brought remedies, and called Claudine to help her, in a kind of calm.
+They tried all they could think of, and at last there came some feeble
+return of life. But the agitation and fatigue of the day had been too
+much for such strength as hers to rally from. One fainting fit
+succeeded another, with scarcely a moment's interval.
+
+All evening it was the same. A doctor came, and stayed till the attacks
+ceased; but when he went away, his patient lay, white and almost
+unconscious even of Lucia's presence. It was terrible sitting there by
+the bedside, and watching for every slight movement--for the hope of a
+word or a smile. It was consolation unspeakable when, late at night,
+Mrs. Costello opened her eyes, free from the bewildered look of
+suffering, and, seeing her child's pale face beside her, put out her
+hand, and said softly, "My poor Lucia!"
+
+After that she dropped asleep, and Lucia watched till early morning. It
+was the first of such watches she had ever kept, and the awful stillness
+made her tremble. Often she got up from her seat to see if her mother's
+breathing still really went on; it seemed difficult to believe that
+there was any stir whatever of life in the room. In those long hours,
+too, she had time to revert to the doings of the past day--to remember
+both Maurice's words and her mother's, and to separate, to some degree,
+the truth from all exaggeration. Her mind seemed to go back also, with
+singular clearness, to the time of Percy's coming to Cacouna, and even
+earlier. She began to comprehend the significance of trifles, which had
+seemed insignificant at the time, and to believe in the truth of what
+Maurice had told her, that even then he was building all his hopes on
+the possibility of her loving him. She wondered at herself now, as
+others had wondered at her; but she still justified herself: "He was my
+brother--my dearest friend. _He_," and this time she did not mean
+Maurice, "was the first person who ever put any other ideas into my
+head. And I have lost them both." But already the true love had so far
+gained its rights, that it was Maurice, far more than Percy, of whose
+loss she thought. Once that night, when she had sat quite without moving
+for a long time, and when her meditations had grown more and more
+dreary, she suddenly raised her hand, and her ring flashed out in the
+gloom. By some instinct she put it to her lips; it seemed to her a
+symbol of regard and protecting care, which comforted her strangely.
+
+When the night was past, and Claudine came early in the morning to take
+Lucia's place, Mrs. Costello still slept; and the poor child, quite worn
+out--pale and shivering in the cold dawn--was glad to creep away to
+bed, and to her heavy but troubled slumber.
+
+All that day the house was kept silent and shut up. Mrs. Costello had
+been much tried, the doctor thought, and needed a complete calm in which
+to recover herself. With her old habit of self-command she understood
+this, and remained still, almost without speaking, till some degree of
+strength should return. Lucia tended her with the most anxious care, and
+kept her troubled thoughts wholly to herself.
+
+About two o'clock Lady Dighton came. Hearing that Mrs. Costello was ill,
+she begged to see Lucia, who came to her, looking weary and worn, but
+longing to hear of Maurice.
+
+It seemed, however, as if she were not to be gratified. Lady Dighton was
+full of concern and kind offers of assistance, but she said nothing of
+her cousin until just as she went away. Then she did say, "You know that
+Maurice left us yesterday evening? I miss him dreadfully; but I dare say
+he thinks much more of whether other people miss him."
+
+She went, and they were alone again. So alone, as they had never been
+while Maurice was in Paris, when he might come in at any moment and
+bring a cheerful breath from the outer world into their narrow and
+feminine life,--as he would never come again! 'Oh,' Lucia thought, 'why
+could not he be our friend always--just our own Maurice as he used to
+be--and not have these miserable fancies? We might have been so happy!'
+
+Towards night Mrs. Costello had greatly revived. She was able to sit up
+a little, and to talk much as usual. She did not allude at all to her
+last conversation with her daughter, and Lucia herself dared not renew
+so exciting a subject. But all anger seemed to have entirely passed away
+from between them. They were completely restored to their old natural
+confidence and tenderness; and that was a comfort which Lucia's terror
+of last night made exquisitely sweet to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Two or three days passed before its former tranquillity was restored to
+the apartment in the Champs Elysées. Its "_former_ tranquillity,"
+indeed, did not seem to come back at all. There were new elements of
+discomfort and disturbance at work, even more than in the days before
+Maurice came, and when Mrs. Costello both feared and hoped for his
+coming. He was never mentioned now, except during Lady Dighton's daily
+visit. She, much mystified, and not sure whether Lucia was to be pitied
+or blamed, was too kind-hearted not to sympathize with her anxiety for
+her mother, and she therefore came constantly--first to inquire for, and
+then to sit with Mrs. Costello, insisting that Lucia should take that
+opportunity of going out in her carriage.
+
+These drives gave the poor child not only fresh air, but also a short
+interval each day in which she could be natural, and permit herself the
+indulgence of the depression which had taken possession of her. She felt
+certain that her mother, though she treated her with her usual
+tenderness, still felt surprised and disappointed by her conduct.
+Maurice also, who had been always so patient, so indulgent, had gone
+away in trouble through her; he had reproached her, perhaps justly, and
+had given up for ever their old intimacy. She was growing more and more
+miserable. If ever, for a moment, she forgot her burden, some little
+incident was sure to occur which brought naturally to her lips the
+words, 'I wish Maurice were here;' and she would turn sick with the
+thought, 'He never will be here again, and it is my fault.'
+
+So the days went on till the Dightons left Paris. They did so without
+any clear understanding having reached Lady Dighton's mind of the state
+of affairs between Maurice and Lucia. All she actually knew was that
+Maurice had been obliged to go home unexpectedly, and that ever since he
+went Lucia had looked like a ghost. And as this conjunction of
+circumstances did not appear unfavourable to her cousin's wishes, and as
+she had no hint of those wishes having been given up, she was quite
+disposed to continue to regard Lucia as the future mistress of Hunsdon.
+
+However, she was not sorry to leave Paris. Her visit there, with regard
+to its principal object, had been rather unsatisfactory; at all events
+it had had no visible results, and she liked results. She wanted to go
+home and see how Maurice reigned at Hunsdon, and tell her particular
+friends about the beautiful girl she hoped some day to have the pleasure
+of patronizing.
+
+Mrs. Costello had regained nearly her usual health. One day, shortly
+after the Dightons left, she asked Lucia to bring her desk, saying that
+she must write to Mr. Wynter, and that it was time they should make some
+different arrangement, since, as they had long ago agreed, Paris was too
+expensive for them to stay there all the year.
+
+Lucia remembered what Maurice had said to her about her mother returning
+to England, but the consciousness of what had really been in his mind at
+the moment stopped her just as she was about to speak. She brought the
+desk, and said only,
+
+"Have you thought of any place, mamma?"
+
+"I have thought of two or three, but none please me," Mrs. Costello
+answered. "We want a cheap place--one within easy reach of England, and
+one not too much visited by tourists. It is not very easy to find a
+place with all the requisites."
+
+"No, indeed. But you are not able to travel yet."
+
+"Yes I am. Indeed, it is necessary we should go soon, if not
+immediately."
+
+Lucia sighed. She would be sorry to leave Paris. Meantime her mother had
+opened the desk, but before beginning to write she took out a small
+packet of letters, and handed them to Lucia. "I will give these to you,"
+she said, "for you have the greatest concern with them, though they were
+not meant for your eyes."
+
+Lucia looked at the packet and recognized Maurice's hand.
+
+"Ought I to read them, then?" she said.
+
+"Certainly. Nay, I desire that you will read them carefully. Yes,
+Lucia," she went on in a softer tone, "I wish you to know all that has
+been hidden from you. Take those notes and keep them. When you are an
+old woman you may be glad to remember that they were ever written."
+
+Lucia could not answer. She carried the packet away to her own chair,
+and sitting down, opened it and began to read. It was only Maurice's
+notes, written to Mrs. Costello from England, and they were many of them
+very hasty, impetuous, and not particularly well-expressed missives. But
+if they had been eloquence itself, they could not have stirred the
+reader's heart as they did. It was the simple bare fact of a great
+love--so much greater than she could ever have deserved, and yet passed
+by, disregarded, unperceived in her arrogant ignorance; this was what
+she seemed to see in them, and it wrung her heart with vain repentance
+and regret. And, as she bent over them there suddenly arose in her mind
+a doubt--a question which seemed to have very little to do with those
+letters, yet which they certainly helped to raise--had she ever loved
+Percy? Lucia was romantic. Like other romantic girls, she would formerly
+have said--indeed, she had said to herself many times--"I shall love him
+all my life--even if he forgets me I shall still love him." And yet now
+she was conscious--dimly, unwillingly conscious, that she thought very
+little of him, and that even that little was not at all in the strain
+she would have felt to be proper in a deserted heroine of fiction. She
+was not the least likely to die of a broken heart for him; she was much
+more inclined to die for grief and shame at what had befallen Maurice.
+So that question, which was in itself a mortifying one, rose
+rebelliously in her mind--had she ever loved Percy? or had she been
+wasting her thoughts on a mere lay-figure, dressed up by her own fancy
+in attributes not at all belonging to it? Poor child! had she known how
+many women--and perhaps men also--do the very same, the idea might not
+have seemed quite so horrible to her.
+
+Horrible or not, she put it aside and went back to the letters. In the
+earlier ones there were many allusions which seemed almost to belong to
+a former existence, so utterly had her life changed since they were
+written. The bright days of last summer, before the first cloud came
+over her fortunes, seemed to return almost too vividly to her memory;
+she would have bargained away a year of her life to be able to regain
+the simple happiness of that time. It could never be done; she had
+suffered, and had done some good and much evil; the past was ended and
+put away for ever; she could not, for all she might give, again set
+herself
+
+            "To the same key
+  Of the remembered harmony."
+
+She closed the last letter of the little pile and put them carefully
+away. Already they seemed to her one of her most valuable possessions.
+
+Mrs. Costello had finished writing to her cousin. She was busy with
+Murray and a map of France; and when Lucia came back she called her.
+
+"Come here, I have half decided."
+
+"Yes, mamma. Where is it?"
+
+"Of course, I cannot be sure. I must make some inquiries; but I think
+this will do--Bourg-Cailloux."
+
+Lucia looked where her mother's finger pointed on the map.
+
+"Is it a seaport?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, with steamers sailing direct to England."
+
+"But in that case, will it not be in the way of tourists?"
+
+"I suspect not; I have looked what Murray says, and it is so little that
+it is pretty evident it is not much visited by the people who follow his
+guidance. Besides, I do not see what attraction the place can have
+except just the sea. It is an old fortified town, with a market and
+considerable maritime trade--sends supplies of various kinds to London,
+and has handsome docks; from all which I conclude that business, and not
+pleasure, is the thing which takes people there."
+
+"Could you bear a noisy, busy town?"
+
+"After this I do not think we need fear the noise of any provincial
+town. In a very quiet place we should not have the direct communication
+with England, which is an object with me."
+
+"But, mamma, what need----?"
+
+"Every need, for your sake as well as my own. We _must_ be where, in
+case of emergency, you could quickly have help from England."
+
+Lucia trembled at her mother's words. She dared not disregard them after
+what had lately happened, but she could not discuss this aspect of the
+question.
+
+"I must find out about the journey," Mrs. Costello went on. "If it is
+not a very fatiguing one I believe I shall decide at once. We shall both
+be the better, in any case, for a little sea air."
+
+"I shall like it at all events. I have never seen the sea except during
+our voyage."
+
+"No. I used to be very fond of it. I believe now, if I could get out to
+sit on the beach I should grow much stronger."
+
+"Oh, mamma, you must. What is the name of the place? Here it
+is--Bourg-Cailloux. When do you think we can go?"
+
+"Not before next week, certainly. Do not make up your mind to that
+place, for perhaps it may not suit us yet to go there."
+
+Lucia knelt down, and put her arms softly round her mother's waist.
+
+"Dear mother," she said slowly, "I wish you would go back to England."
+
+Mrs. Costello started. "To England?" she said, "you know quite well that
+it is impossible."
+
+"You would be glad to go, mamma."
+
+"Child, you do not know _how_ glad I should be. To die and be buried
+among my own people!"
+
+"To go and live among them rather, mamma; Maurice put it into my head
+that you might."
+
+She spoke the last sentence timidly; after they had both so avoided
+Maurice's name, she half dreaded its effect on her mother. But Mrs.
+Costello only shook her head sadly.
+
+"Maurice thought of a different return from any that would be possible
+now. Possibly, if all had been as we wished--both he and I--I might
+have gone over to a part of England so far from the place I left. Say no
+more of it, dear," she added quickly, "let us make the best of what we
+have, and try to forget what we have not."
+
+She bent down and kissed her daughter as she spoke. But still these last
+few sentences had furnished a little fresh bitterness for Lucia's
+thoughts. Her mother's exile might have ended but for her.
+
+Bourg-Cailloux was next day fully decided on for their new residence.
+From the time of the decision Lucia began to be very busy in preparation
+for their journey, and for leaving the place where she had been too
+happy, and too miserable, not to have become attached to it. Claudine,
+too, had to be left behind with some regret, but they hoped to see Paris
+again the following year if all should be well. Early one morning they
+started off once again, a somewhat forlorn pair of travellers, and at
+three o'clock on a bright afternoon rattled over the rough pavements, on
+their way to the Hôtel des Bains at Bourg-Cailloux.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+Summer came very early that year, and the narrow streets of
+Bourg-Cailloux were full of the glare and heat of the season. The
+pavements of white stones, always rough and painful to the feet, were
+burning hot in the middle of the day, and outside the walls, especially
+towards the sea, the light coloured, sandy roads were more scorching
+still. The Hôtel des Bains, just waking up after its winter repose, had
+proved but a comfortless dwelling. After two or three days, therefore,
+Mrs. Costello had left it, and she and Lucia were now settled in a
+lodging in the city itself. Their windows looked out on the "Place,"
+where a brave sea-captain, the hero of Bourg-Cailloux, stood in effigy,
+and still seemed to keep watch over the place he had once defended, and
+where, twice a week, the market-women came in their long black cloaks
+and dazzling caps, and brought heaps of fragrant flowers and early
+fruit. In the very early morning, the shadow of a quaint old tower fell
+transversely upon the pavement of the square, and reached almost to
+their door; and in the evening Lucia grew fond of watching for the fire
+which was nightly lighted on the same tower that it might be a guide to
+sailors far out at sea. The town was quiet and dull--there was no
+theatre, no concerts, at present even no balls--the only public
+amusement of the population seemed to be listening in the still evenings
+to the band which played in front of the guard-house in the Place. There
+they came in throngs, and promenaded slowly over the sharp-edged stones,
+with a keen and visible enjoyment of the fresh air, the music, and each
+other's company, which was in itself a pleasant thing to see.
+
+The journey, the discomforts of the first few days, and the second
+moving, had tried Mrs. Costello extremely. She spent most of her time on
+the sofa now, and had as yet only been able once or twice to go down and
+sit for a while on the sunny beach, where children were playing and
+building sand castles, and where the sea breeze was sweet and reviving.
+
+There was a small colony of English people settled in the town, mostly
+people with small incomes and many children, or widows of poor
+gentlemen; but there was also a large floating population of English
+sailors, and for their benefit an English consul and chaplain, who
+supplied a temporal and spiritual leader to the community. But the
+mother and daughter kept much apart from their country people, who were
+inclined to be sociable and friendly towards them. Mrs. Costello's
+illness, and Lucia's preoccupation, made them receive with indifference
+the visits of those who, after seeing them at the little English church,
+and by the sea, thought it "only neighbourly to call."
+
+Their home arrangements were different to those they had made in Paris.
+Here they were really lodgers, and their landlady, Madame Everaert,
+waited on them. She was a fat, good natured, half Dutch widow, who took
+from the first a lively interest in the invalid mother, and in the
+daughter who would have been so handsome if she had been stouter and
+more rosy; and in a very little while she found that her new lodgers
+had one quality, which above all others gave them a claim on her good
+will, they were excellent listeners. Almost every evening in the
+twilight she would come herself to their sitting-room, with the lamp, or
+with some other errand for an excuse, and would stay chattering in her
+droll Flemish French for at least half an hour. This came to be one of
+the features of the day. Another was a daily walk, which Lucia had most
+frequently to take alone, but which always gave her either from the
+shore, or from the ramparts, a long sorrowful look over the sea towards
+England--towards Canada perhaps--or instead of either, to some far-away
+fairy country where there were no mistakes and no misunderstandings.
+
+Between these two--between morning and evening--time was almost a blank.
+Lucia had completely given up her habits of study. She did not even read
+novels, except aloud; and when she was not in some way occupied in
+caring for her mother, she sat hour after hour by the window, with a
+piece of crochet, which seemed a second Penelope's web, for it never was
+visibly larger one day than it had been the day before. Mrs. Costello
+gradually grew anxious as she perceived how dull and inanimate her
+daughter remained. She would almost have been glad of an excuse for
+giving her a gentle scolding, but Lucia's entire submission and
+sweetness of temper made it impossible. There seemed nothing to be done,
+but to try to force her into cheerful occupation, and to hope that time
+and her own good sense would do the rest. Hitherto they had had no
+piano; they got one, and for a day or two Lucia made a languid pretence
+of practising. But one day she was turning over her music, among which
+were a number of quaint old English songs and madrigals, which she and
+Maurice had jointly owned long ago at Cacouna, when she came upon one
+the words of which she had been used to laugh at, much to the annoyance
+of her fellow-singers. She had a half remembrance of them, and turned
+the pages to look if they were really so absurd. The music she knew
+well, and how the voices blended in the quaint pathetic harmony.
+
+      "Out alas! my faith is ever true,
+      Yet will she never rue,
+      Nor grant me any grace.
+  I sit and sigh, I weep, I faint, I die,
+  While she alone refuseth sympathy."
+
+She shut the music up, and would have said, if anybody had asked her,
+that she had no patience with such foolish laments, even in poetry; but,
+nevertheless, the verse stayed in her memory, haunted her fancy
+perpetually, and seemed like a living voice in her ears--
+
+  "Out alas! my faith is ever true."
+
+She cared no more for singing, for every song she liked was associated
+with Maurice, and each one seemed now to have the same burden; and when
+she played, it was no longer gay airs, or even the wonderful 'Morceaux
+de Salon,' of incredible noise and difficulty, which had been required
+of her as musical exhibitions, but always some melancholy andante or
+reverie which seemed to come to her fingers without choice or intention.
+
+One day when she had gone for her solitary walk, and Mrs. Costello all
+alone was lying on the sofa, trying to read, but really considering with
+some uneasiness the condition of their affairs, Madame Everaert knocked
+at the door.
+
+She brought with her a fresh bunch of flowers just bought in the market,
+but she was as usual overflowing with talk.
+
+"It is extremely hot," she said, fanning herself with her pocket
+handkerchief, "and I met mademoiselle going out. It is excessively hot."
+
+Mrs. Costello looked uneasy.
+
+"Do you think it is too hot to be out?" she asked.
+
+"No. Perhaps not. Certainly, mademoiselle has gone to the ramparts, and
+the walk there is not nearly so hot and fatiguing as down to the beach.
+Mademoiselle is very fond of the sea."
+
+"Yes, she enjoys it greatly. It is new to her."
+
+"One day, not long ago, I was coming along the top of the
+ramparts,--madame has not been there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"There is a broad space on the top, and it is covered with soft green
+turf quite pleasant to sit down upon. Very few people pass, and you can
+see a long way out to sea. Well, one day I came along there, because
+upon the grass it was pleasanter walking than on the stones in the
+street, and I saw Mademoiselle Lucia who was sitting quite quiet,
+looking out far away. I came very near, but she never saw me. I thought
+I would speak to her just to say how beautiful the day was, and the air
+so sweet, when I saw just in time madame, that she was crying. Great
+big tears were falling down on her hands, and she never seemed to feel
+them even. Mon Dieu, madame! I could hardly keep from crying myself, she
+looked so sad; but I went by softly, and she never saw me. Mademoiselle
+regrets England very much."
+
+"She has never been in England. She was born in Canada, and that, you
+know, is very far away."
+
+"In Canada! Is it possible? Does madame come from Canada?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And it is in Canada our good father Paul has suffered so much! Oh, the
+terrible country!"
+
+"Why should it be terrible? I have seen Father Paul, and he does not
+look as if he had suffered much."
+
+"Not now, Dieu merci. But long ago. Madame, he went to convert the
+savages--the Indians."
+
+Mrs. Costello started. Father Paul was a Jesuit priest--an old venerable
+man--old enough, as it flashed into her mind, to have been one of the
+Moose Island missionaries. Yet such an idea was improbable--there had no
+doubt been many other Jesuit missions besides the one where Christian
+had been trained.
+
+"Do you know where it was that he went?" she asked, after a moment's
+pause.
+
+"It was in Canada," Madame Everaert repeated, "and he lived among the
+savages; if madame is from Canada, she would know where the savages
+live."
+
+"There are very few savages now," Mrs. Costello answered with a smile.
+"I know where there used to be some--possibly that was the very place."
+
+"No doubt. I shall tell the good father that madame knows it."
+
+"Stay. Don't be quite sure that it is the place. Canada is a very large
+country."
+
+"Still it is so singular that madame should come from there. Father Paul
+will be delighted."
+
+Mrs. Costello thought a minute. She was greatly tempted to wish to see
+this priest who might have known her husband. She need not betray
+herself to him. For the rest, she had noticed him often, and thought
+what a good, pleasant face he had--a little too round and rosy perhaps,
+but very honest and not vulgar. He might be an agreeable visitor, even
+if he had no other claim on her.
+
+"Do you think," she said, "that he would mind coming to see me? I should
+be very glad to receive him."
+
+"I am sure he would be charmed. He likes so much to talk of Canada."
+
+"Will you say to him then, please, that I have lived there many years
+and should be very pleased to have a chat with him about it. I might be
+able to give him news."
+
+Madame Everaert was delighted. She went away quite satisfied to find
+Father Paul at the very earliest opportunity, and to deliver to him with
+_empressement_ Mrs. Costello's invitation.
+
+Lucia, meanwhile, took her usual walk. She went quickly along the stony
+streets and climbed up the grassy side of the rampart. It was all still
+and solitary, and she sat down where there lay before her a wide stretch
+of perfectly level country, only broken by the lines of the old
+fortifications, and bordered by the sea. In the clear morning sunshine,
+she could distinguish the white foam where the waves broke against the
+wooden pier, and out on the blue waters there were white shining specks
+of sails. Ships coming and going, and on the beach moving groups of
+people--everywhere something that had life and motion and looked on to a
+future, an object beyond this present moment--everywhere but here with
+her.
+
+"Oh," she said to herself, "how wearisome life is! What good to myself
+or to anybody else is this existence of mine? Am I never either to be
+good or happy again? Happy, I suppose that does not so much matter--but
+good? If people are wrong once, can they never get right again? I used
+to think I should like to be a Sister of Mercy--and now that is all that
+is left for me, I do not feel any inclination for it. I don't think I
+have a vocation even for that."
+
+And at this point she fell into a lower depth of melancholy--one of
+those sad moods which, at eighteen, have even a kind of charm in their
+exaggeration.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+A day or two later there came, forwarded from Paris, an English letter
+for Mrs. Costello. It arrived in the evening, at a time when they had no
+expectation of receiving anything, and Madame Everaert brought it up,
+and delivered it into Mrs. Costello's own hand, so that Lucia was not
+near enough to see from whom it came. The general appearance of the
+letter made her think it was English, and she knew that Mr. Wynter had
+their present address and would not write to Paris. So she felt a
+half-joyful, half-frightened suspicion that it must be from Maurice, and
+her idea was confirmed by her mother's proceedings. For Mrs. Costello
+having looked at the address, put the letter quietly in her pocket, and
+went on talking about Father Paul, from whom they were expecting a
+visit.
+
+Lucia could hardly restrain herself. It was clear that Mrs. Costello did
+not mean to open the letter before her, or to tell her whence it came;
+but her anxiety to know was only increased by this certainty. She had
+almost made up her mind to ask plainly whether it was from Maurice, when
+the door opened and the old priest came in.
+
+He was a fine-looking, white-haired man of more than seventy, to whom
+the long black robe seemed exactly the most suitable dress possible, and
+he had a good manner too, which was neither that of a mere priest, nor
+of a mere gentleman, but belonged to both. The first few minutes of talk
+made Mrs. Costello sure that she did not repent having invited his
+acquaintance; a fact which had been in some little doubt before.
+
+She had said to him, "Madame Everaert told me you knew Canada, and, as
+we are Canadians, I could not resist the wish to see one who might still
+feel an interest in our country," and this turned the conversation
+immediately to what she desired to hear.
+
+He answered her with a smile, "Probably my knowledge of Canada is very
+different from yours; mine is almost entirely confined to the wilder
+and less settled parts--to the Indian lands, in fact."
+
+"In Upper Canada?"
+
+"Yes. And then it is many years since I returned."
+
+"I have lived for twenty years in Upper Canada; and of some of the
+Indians, the Ojibways of Moose Island, I have heard a great deal;
+perhaps you know them?"
+
+The priest's eye brightened, but next moment he sighed.
+
+"The very place!" he said. "Unhappy people! But I am forgetting that
+you, madame, are not likely to share my feelings on the subject."
+
+"I do not know," Mrs. Costello answered, "that we should be wholly
+disagreed. I have heard, I may almost say I know myself, much of your
+mission there."
+
+"Is it possible? Can any good remain still?"
+
+"One of your old pupils died lately, and in his last hours he remembered
+nothing so well as your teaching."
+
+Her voice shook; this sudden mention of her husband, voluntary as it
+was, agitated her strongly. Father Paul saw it and wondered, but
+appeared to see nothing.
+
+"Poor boys! You console me, madame, for many sad thoughts. I was a young
+man then, and, as you see, I am now a very old one, but I have known few
+more sorrowful days than the one when I left Moose Island."
+
+"Yet it must have been a hard and wearisome life?"
+
+"Hard?--Yes--but not wearisome. We were ready to bear the hardness as
+long as we hoped to see the fruit of our labours. I thought there had
+been no fruit, or very little; but you prove to me that I was too
+faithless."
+
+Mrs. Costello remained a moment silent. She was much inclined to trust
+her guest with that part of her story which referred to Christian--no
+doubt he was in the habit of keeping stranger secrets than hers.
+
+While she hesitated he spoke again.
+
+"But the whole face of the country must have changed since I knew it.
+Did you live in that neighbourhood?"
+
+"For several years--all the first years of my married life, I lived on
+Moose Island itself, and my daughter--come to me a moment, Lucia,--was
+born there."
+
+She took Lucia's hand and drew her forward. The remaining daylight fell
+full upon her dark hair and showed the striking outlines of her face and
+graceful head.
+
+Father Paul looked in amazement--looked from the daughter to the mother,
+and the mother to the daughter, not knowing what to think or say.
+
+Mrs. Costello relieved his embarrassment.
+
+"My marriage was a strange one," she said. "The old pupil of whom I
+spoke to you just now, was my husband."
+
+"Your husband, madame? Do I understand you? Mademoiselle's father then
+was--"
+
+"An Indian."
+
+He remained dumb with astonishment, not willing to give vent to the
+exclamations of surprise and almost sorrow which he felt might be
+offensive to his hostess, while she told him in the fewest possible
+words of her marriage to Christian and separation from him.
+
+There was one thought in the old priest's mind, which had never, at
+anytime, occurred to Mrs. Costello--Christian had been destined for the
+Church. He had taken no vows, certainly; but for years he had been
+trained with that object, and at one time his vocation had seemed
+remarkably clear and strong--his marriage, at all, therefore, seemed to
+add enormity to his other guilt.
+
+And yet there was a sort of lurking tenderness for the boy who had been
+the favourite pupil of the mission--who had seemed to have such natural
+aptitude for good of all sorts, until suddenly the mask dropped off, and
+the good turned to evil. It might be that his misdoings were but the
+result of a temporary possession of the evil one himself, and that at
+last all might have been well.
+
+Mrs. Costello spoke more fully as she saw how deep was the listener's
+interest in her story; yet, when she came near the end, she almost
+shrank from the task. The sacred tenderness which belongs to the dead,
+had fallen like a veil over all her last memories of her husband; and
+now she wanted to share them with this good old man, whose teaching had
+made them what they were.
+
+More than once she had to stop, to wait till her voice was less
+unsteady, but she went on to the very end--even to that strange burial
+in the waters. When all was told, there was a silence in the room;
+Father Paul had wet eyes, unseen in the dusk, and he did not care to
+speak; Lucia, whose tears were very ready of late; was crying quietly,
+with her head lying against the end of the sofa, while Mrs. Costello,
+leaning back on her cushions, waited quietly till the painful throbbing
+of her heart should subside.
+
+At last Lucia rose and stole out of the room. She went to her own, and
+lay down on her bed still crying, though she could hardly tell why. Her
+trouble about the letter still haunted and worried her, and her spirit
+was so broken that she was like a sick child, neither able nor anxious
+to command herself.
+
+Meanwhile the lamp had been brought into the sitting-room, and the two
+elder people had recommenced their conversation. It was of a less
+agitating kind now, but the subject was not very different, and both
+were deeply interested, so that time passed on quickly, and the evening
+was gone before they were aware. When Father Paul rose to go, he said,
+"Madam, I thank you for all you have told me. Your secret is safe with
+me; but I beg your permission to share the rest of your intelligence
+with one of my brothers--the only survivor except myself of that
+mission. If you will permit me, I shall visit you again--I should like
+much to make friends with mademoiselle, your daughter. She recalls to
+me strongly the features of my once greatly loved pupil."
+
+With this little speech he departed, and left Mrs. Costello to wonder
+over this last page in her husband's history. Only a year ago how little
+would she have believed it possible that a man respectable, nay,
+venerable, as this old priest, would have thought kindly of Lucia for
+her father's sake!
+
+After a little while she got up and went to look for her daughter. She
+found her sitting at a window, looking forlornly out at the lights and
+movements in the place, and not very ready to meet the lamplight when
+she came back into the sitting-room. Still, however, she heard nothing
+of the letter, nor even when she bade her mother good night and lingered
+a little at the very last, hoping for one word, even though it might be
+a reproach, to tell her that it was from Maurice.
+
+She had to go to her room disconsolate. She heard Mrs. Costello go to
+hers, and close the door.
+
+'Now,' she thought, 'it will be opened. It cannot be from _him_, or
+mamma could not have waited so long. But I don't know; she has such
+self-command! I used to fancy I could be patient at great need--and I am
+not one bit.'
+
+However, as waiting and listening for every sound brought her no nearer
+to the obtaining of her wishes, she undressed and lay down, and began to
+try to imagine what the letter could be. Gradually, from thinking, she
+fell into dreaming, and dropped into a doze.
+
+But before she was sound asleep, the door opened, and Mrs. Costello
+shading her candle with her hand, came into the room. Lucia had been so
+excited that the smallest movement was sufficient to awake her. She
+started up and said, "What is it mamma?" in a frightened voice.
+
+"It is late," Mrs. Costello said. "Quite time you were asleep, but I am
+glad you are not. Lie down. I shall sit here for a few minutes and tell
+you what I want to say."
+
+Lucia obeyed. She saw that her mother had a paper in her hand--no doubt
+the letter. Now she should hear.
+
+"I had a letter to-night," her mother went on. "I dare say you wondered
+I did not open it at once. The truth was, I saw that it was in Mr.
+Leigh's writing, and I had reason to feel a little anxious as to what he
+might say."
+
+"Yes, mamma."
+
+Lucia could say no more; but she waited eagerly for the news that must
+be coming--news of Maurice.
+
+"I shall give you the letter to read. Bring it back to me in the
+morning; but before you do so, think well what you will do. I would
+never ask you to be untrue to yourself in such a matter; but I entreat
+you to see that you do know your own mind, and to use your power of
+saying yes or no, if you should ever have it, not like a foolish girl,
+but like a woman, who must abide all her life by the consequences of her
+decision."
+
+Mrs. Costello kissed her daughter's forehead, lighted the candle which
+stood on a small table, and leaving the letter beside it, went softly
+away.
+
+The moment the door closed, Lucia eagerly stretched out her arm and took
+the letter. Her hands trembled; the light seemed dim; and Mr. Leigh's
+cramped old-fashioned handwriting was more illegible than ever; but she
+read eagerly, devouring the words.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Costello,--You may think, perhaps, that I ought not to
+interfere in a matter in which I have not been consulted; but you know
+that to us, who have in all the world nothing to care for but one only
+child, that child's affairs are apt to be much the same as our own.
+
+"Maurice told me, just before we left Canada, what I might have been
+certain of long before if I had not been a stupid old man--that it was
+the hope of his life to marry your Lucia. He went to Paris, certainly,
+with the intention of asking her to marry him; and he came back quite
+unexpectedly, and looking ten years older--so changed, not only in
+looks, but in all his ways of speaking and acting, that it was clear to
+me some great misfortune had happened. Still he said very little to me,
+and it appears incredible that Lucia can have refused him. Perhaps that
+seems an arrogant speech for his father to make--but you will understand
+that I mean if she knew how constantly faithful he has been to her ever
+since they were both children;--and if she has done so in some momentary
+displeasure with him (for you know they used to have little quarrels
+sometimes), or if they have parted in anger, I beg of you, dear Mrs.
+Costello, for the sake of his mother, to try to put things right between
+them.
+
+"I must tell you plainly that I am writing without my son's knowledge. I
+would very much rather he should never know I have written; but I have
+been urged to do it by some things that have happened lately.
+
+"Some time ago Maurice, speaking to me of Mr. Beresford's will, told me
+that there had been a little difficulty in tracing one of the persons
+named as legatees. This was a cousin of Mr. Beresford's, with whom he
+seems to have had very little acquaintance, and no recent intercourse
+whatever; although, except Lady Dighton, she was the nearest relative he
+had. The lawyers discovered, while Maurice was in Canada, that this lady
+herself was dead. Her marriage had been unfortunate, and she had a
+spendthrift son, to whom, as his mother's heir, the money left by Mr.
+Beresford passed; but it appeared that she had also a daughter, who was
+in unhappy circumstances, being dependent on some relation of her
+father. Maurice, very naturally and properly, thought that, as head of
+the family, it was his duty to arrange something for this lady's
+comfort; and accordingly, being in London, where she lives, he called on
+her. She has since then been in this neighbourhood, and I have seen her
+several times. She is a young lady of agreeable appearance and manners,
+and seems qualified to become popular, if she were in a position to do
+so. I should not have thought of this, however, if it had not been for a
+few words Maurice said to me one day. I asked him some question about
+marrying, hoping to hear some allusion to Lucia, but he said very
+gravely that he should certainly marry some time; he had promised his
+grandfather to do so. Then he said suddenly, 'What would you think of
+Emma Landor for a daughter-in-law?' 'Emma Landor?' I answered; 'what has
+put her into your head?' 'Just this, sir,' he said; 'if I am to marry as
+a duty, I had better find somebody to whom I shall do some good, and not
+all evil, by marrying them. Emma would enjoy being mistress here; she
+would do it well, too; and having Hunsdon, she would not miss anything
+else that might be wanting.' With that he went out of the room; and
+after awhile I persuaded myself that he meant nothing serious by what he
+had said. However, Lady Dighton has spoken to me of the same thing
+since. Both she and I are convinced now that Maurice thinks--you may be,
+better then we are, able to understand why--that he has lost Lucia, and
+that, therefore, a marriage of convenience is all that he can hope for.
+Perhaps I am mistaken, or, at all events, too soon alarmed; but the
+mere idea of his proposing to this young lady throws me into a panic. If
+she should accept him (and Lady Dighton thinks she probably would), it
+would be a life-long misery. I am old-fashioned enough to think it would
+be a sin. He will not do it yet; perhaps he may see you again before he
+does. Do, I entreat of you, use the great influence you have always had
+with him to set things right. I have written a very long letter, because
+I could not ask your help without explaining; but I trust to your
+kindness to sympathize with my anxiety. Kindest regards to Lucia."
+
+Lucia put down the paper. The whole letter, slowly and painfully
+deciphered, seemed to make no impression on her brain. She lay still,
+with a sort of stunned feeling, till the sense of what she had read came
+to her fully.
+
+"Oh, Maurice!" she cried under her breath, "I want you! Come back to me!
+She shall never have you! You belong to me!" She covered her face with
+her hands, ashamed of even hearing her own words; then she got up and
+went across to her window, and looked out at the light burning on the
+tower--the light which shone far across the sea towards England. But
+presently she came back, and reached her little desk--Maurice's gift
+long ago--and knelt down on the floor, and wrote, kneeling,--
+
+
+
+    "Dear Maurice, you promised that if ever I wanted you, you would
+    come. I want you now more than ever I did in my life. Please, please
+    come.
+                                   "LUCIA."
+
+
+
+Then she leaned her head down till it almost touched the paper, and
+stayed so for a few minutes before she got up from her knees and
+extinguished her candle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+In the morning, when Lucia woke, her note to Maurice lay on the open
+desk, where she had left it, and was the first thing to remind her of
+what she had heard and done. She went and took it up to destroy it, but
+laid it down again irresolutely.
+
+"I do want him," she said to herself. "Without any nonsense, I ought to
+see him again before he does anything. I ought to tell him I am sorry
+for being so cross and ungrateful; and if he were married, or even
+engaged, I could not do it; it would be like confessing to a stranger."
+
+There was something very like a sob, making her throat swell as she
+considered. He would perhaps see them again, Mr. Leigh said. Ought she
+to trust to that chance? But then her courage might fail if he came
+over just like any ordinary visitor; and her young cousins from Chester
+were coming; and if they should be there, it would be another hindrance.
+"And, oh! I must see him again," she said, "and find out whether we are
+not to be brother and sister any more."
+
+She said "brother and sister" still, as she had done long ago; but she
+knew very well in her heart now, that _that_ had never been the
+relationship Maurice desired. And so she tore her note into little bits,
+and remained helpless, but rebelling against her helplessness. In this
+humour she went to her mother's room.
+
+Mrs. Costello was not yet up. Lucia knelt down by the bedside, and laid
+Mr. Leigh's letter beside her.
+
+"Mamma, I am very sorry," she said; "I think Mr. Leigh must have been
+very unhappy before he would write to you so."
+
+"I agree with you. He is not a man to take fright without cause,
+either."
+
+"Why do you say, 'to take fright?'"
+
+"Why do I say so? Are you such a child still, that you cannot understand
+a man like Maurice, always so tender towards women--Quixotically so,
+indeed--making himself believe that he is doing quite right in marrying
+a poor girl in Miss Landor's position, when, in fact, he is doing a
+great wrong? It is a double wrong to her and to himself; and one for
+which he would be certain to suffer, whether she did or not. And, Lucia
+I must say it, whatever evil may come of it, now or in the future, is
+our fault."
+
+"Oh, mamma! mamma, don't say 'our'--say 'your'--if it is mine--for
+certainly it is not yours."
+
+"I will say your fault, then; I believe you feel it so."
+
+"But, mamma, really and truly, is it anybody's fault? Don't people often
+love those who can't care for them in return?"
+
+"Really and truly, quite honestly and frankly, Lucia, was that the case
+with you?"
+
+Lucia's eyes fell. She could not say yes.
+
+"I will tell you," Mrs. Costello went on, "what I believe to be the
+truth, and you can set me right if I am wrong. You knew that Maurice had
+always been fond of you--devoted to you, in a way that had come by use
+to seem natural; and it had never entered your mind to think either how
+much of your regard he deserved, or how much he really had. I will not
+say anything about Percy; but I do believe," and she spoke very
+deliberately, laying her hand on Lucia's, "that since Maurice went away,
+you have been finding out that you had made a mistake, and that your
+heart had not been wrong nearly so much as your imagination."
+
+Lucia was still silent. If she had spoken at all, it must have been to
+confess that her mother was right, and that was not easy to do. Whatever
+suspicions she might have in her own heart, it was a mortifying thing to
+be told plainly that her love for Percy was a mistake--a mere
+counterfeit--instead of the enduring devotion which it ought to have
+been. But she was very much humbled now, and patiently waited for what
+her mother might say next.
+
+"Well!" Mrs. Costello began again, "it is no use now to go on talking of
+the past. The question is rather whether anything can be done for the
+future. What do you say?"
+
+"What can I say, mamma? What can I do?"
+
+"I don't know. Maurice used to tell me of his plans, but he is not
+likely to do that now. I would write and ask him to come over, but it is
+more than doubtful whether he would come."
+
+"He promised that if ever I wanted him he would come," Lucia said,
+hesitating.
+
+"If you were in need of him I am sure he would, but it would be a kind
+of impertinence to send for him on that plea when it was not really for
+that."
+
+"But it _is_. Mamma, don't be angry with me again! Don't be disgusted
+with me; but I want, so badly, to see him and tell him I behaved
+wrongly. I was so cross, so ungrateful, so _horrid_, mamma, that it was
+enough to make him think all girls bad. I should _like_ to tell him how
+sorry I am; I feel as if I should never be happy till I did."
+
+When, after this outbreak, Lucia's face went down upon her hands, Mrs.
+Costello could not resist a little self-gratulatory smile. 'All may come
+right yet,' she thought to herself, 'if that wilful boy will only come
+over.'
+
+"I think you are right," she said aloud. "Possibly he may come over, and
+then you will have an opportunity of speaking to him, perhaps."
+
+"Yes," Lucia said, very slowly, thinking of her note, and of the comfort
+it would have been if she _could_ but have sent it. "Oh, mamma, if we
+were but in England!"
+
+"Useless wishes, dear. Give me your advice about writing to Mr. Leigh."
+
+"You will write, will you not?"
+
+"I suppose I must. Yet it is a difficult letter for me to answer."
+
+"Could not you just say 'I will do what I can?'"
+
+"Which is absolutely nothing--unless Maurice should really pay us a
+visit here, a thing not likely at present."
+
+So the conversation ended without any satisfaction to Lucia. Nay, all
+her previous days had been happy compared to this one. She was devoured
+now, by a restless, jealous curiosity about that Miss Landor whom Mr.
+Leigh feared--she constantly found her thoughts reverting to this
+subject, however she might try to occupy them with others, and the
+tumult of her mind reacted upon her nerves. She could scarcely bear to
+sit still. It rained all afternoon and evening, and she could not go
+out, so that in the usual course of events she would have read aloud to
+her mother part of the time, and for the other part sat by the window
+with her crochet in her hand, but to-day she wandered about perpetually.
+She even opened the piano and began to sing her merriest old songs, but
+that soon ceased. She found the novel they were reading insufferably
+stupid, and took up a volume of Shakespeare for refreshment, but it
+opened naturally to the 'Merchant of Venice,' and, to the page where
+Portia says:--
+
+              "Though for myself alone,
+  I would not be ambitious in my wish,
+  To wish myself much better, yet for you
+  I would be trebled twenty times myself;
+  A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
+  That only to stand high on your account,
+  I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
+  Exceed account."
+
+She shut the book--yes, this was a true woman, who for true love thought
+herself and all she possessed too little to give in return; but for the
+little, foolish, blind souls that could not see till too late, what
+_was_ true love, she was no fit company.
+
+The evening passed on wearily, and Mrs. Costello, who had her own share
+of disquiet also, though it was mixed with a little amusement at the
+impetuosity of these young people, who were so dear to her and so
+troublesome, did very little in the way of consolation.
+
+Next day, the weather had cleared again, and was very lovely. In the
+afternoon, Lucia persuaded Mrs. Costello to go with her to the beach.
+There they got chairs, and sat for a long while enjoying the gay, and
+often comical, scene round them. Numbers of people were bathing, and
+beside the orthodox bathers, there was a party of little boys wading
+about with bare legs, and playing all sorts of pranks in the water.
+
+A little way to the left of where they sat, there was a curious kind of
+wooden pier, which ran far away out into the sea and terminated in a
+small square wooden building. The whole thing was raised on piles about
+five or six feet above the present level of the water which flowed
+underneath it. The pier itself, in fact, was only a narrow bridge or
+footpath railed partly on one side only, partly on both, and with an
+oddly unsafe and yet tempting look about it. Lucia had been attracted by
+it before, and she drew her mother's attention to it now--
+
+"Look, mamma," she said, "does not it seem as if one could almost cross
+the Channel on it, it goes so far out. See that woman, now--I have
+watched since she started from this end, and now you can scarcely
+distinguish her figure."
+
+"There is a priest coming along it--is it not Father Paul?"
+
+"I do believe it is. I wish he would come and talk to you for a little
+while, and then I would go."
+
+"You need not stay for that, dear. I shall sit here alone quite
+comfortably, if you wish to go out there."
+
+"I should like very much to go. I want to see what the sea looks like
+away from the beach. There is no harm, is there?"
+
+"None whatever. Go, and I will watch you."
+
+Lucia rose to go.
+
+"It _is_ Father Paul," she said, "and he is coming this way."
+
+She lingered a minute, and the priest, who had recognized them, came up.
+
+Mrs. Costello told him of Lucia's wish to go out on the pier, and he
+assured her she would enjoy it.
+
+"The air seems even fresher there than here," he said; and she went off,
+and left him and her mother together.
+
+For a few minutes they talked about the weather, the sea, and the people
+about them, as two slight acquaintances would naturally do; but then,
+when there had been a momentary pause, Father Paul startled Mrs.
+Costello, by saying,
+
+"Last night, madam, you told me of persons I had not heard of for
+years--this morning, strangely enough, I have met with a person of whom
+you probably know something--or knew something formerly."
+
+"I?" she answered. "Impossible! I know no one in France."
+
+"This is not a Frenchman. He is named Bailey, an American, I believe."
+
+"Bailey?" Mrs. Costello repeated, terrified. "Surely he is not here?"
+
+"There is a man of that name here--a miserable ruined gambler, who says
+that he knows Moose Island, and once travelled in Europe with a party of
+Indians."
+
+"And what is he doing now?"
+
+"Nothing. He is the most wretched, squalid object you can imagine. He
+came to me this morning to ask for the loan of a few francs. He had not
+even the honesty to beg without some pretence of an intention to pay."
+
+"Is he so low then as to need to beg?"
+
+"Madame, he is a gambler, I repeat it. If he had a hundred francs
+to-night, he would most likely be penniless to-morrow morning."
+
+"And he claimed charity from you because of your connection with
+Canada?"
+
+"Exactly. Having no other plea. I was right, madame: you know this man?"
+
+"He was my bitterest enemy!" she answered, half rising in her vehemence.
+"But for him I might have had a happy life."
+
+Father Paul looked shocked.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, in a troubled voice, "I am grieved to have spoken
+of him."
+
+"On the contrary, I am thankful you did so. If I had met him by chance
+in the street, I believe he could not change so much that I should not
+know him, and he--"
+
+She stopped, then asked abruptly,
+
+"You did not mention me?"
+
+"Most assuredly not."
+
+"Yet he might recognise me. What shall I do?"
+
+She was speaking to herself, and not to her companion now, and she
+looked impatiently towards the pier where Lucia was slowly coming back.
+
+Presently she recovered herself a little, and asked a few more
+questions about Bailey. She gathered from the answers that he had been
+some time at Bourg-Cailloux, getting gradually more poverty-stricken and
+utterly disreputable. That he was now wandering about without a home, or
+money even for gambling. She knew enough of the man to be certain that
+under such circumstances he would snatch at any means of obtaining
+money, and what means easier, if he only knew it, than to threaten and
+persecute her. And at any moment he might discover her--her very
+acquaintance with Father Paul might betray her to him. She cast a
+terrified look over all the groups of people on the beach, half
+expecting to see the well-remembered features of Bailey among them; but
+he was not there. Close by her, however, stood Lucia, and at a little
+distance the carriage, which had been ordered to fetch them, was just
+drawing up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello said nothing to Lucia on their way home about Bailey. She
+sat in her corner of the carriage, leaning back and thinking
+despairingly what to do. Her spirits had so far given way with her
+failing health that she no longer felt the courage necessary to face
+annoyance. And it was plainly to be feared that in case this man
+discovered her, he would have no scruples, being so needy and degraded,
+about using every means in his power to extort money from her.
+Undoubtedly he had such means--he had but to tell her story, as he
+_could_ tell it, and not only her own life, but Lucia's, would be made
+wretched; the separation from Maurice, which she was beginning to hope
+might be only temporary, would become irrevocable--and, what seemed to
+her still more terrible, there would be perpetual demands from her
+enemy, and the misery of perpetual contact with him. To buy off such a
+man, at once and finally, was, she knew, utterly beyond her power--what
+then could she do?
+
+When they were at home, and the door of their sitting-room safely
+closed, she turned anxiously to Lucia,
+
+"Bailey is here," she said.
+
+"Bailey?" Lucia repeated--she had forgotten the name.
+
+"The man who was present at my marriage--the American."
+
+"Mamma! How do you know?"
+
+"Father Paul told me just now."
+
+"How did he know?"
+
+"The wretched man had gone to him begging, and he mentioned him to me by
+chance, thinking I might know something about him."
+
+"But surely he would not remember you?"
+
+"I think he would. If by any accident he met you and me together, I am
+certain he would."
+
+"Ah! I am so like my father."
+
+"Lucia, I _dare_ not meet him. I believe the very sight of him would
+kill me."
+
+"Let us go away, mamma. He knows nothing about us yet. We might start
+to-morrow."
+
+"Where should we go? Even at our own door we might meet him, at the
+railway station--anywhere. No, it is only inside these walls we are
+safe, and scarcely here."
+
+Mrs. Costello was literally trembling, the panic which had seized her
+was so great; Lucia, not fully understanding yet, could not help being
+infected by her terror.
+
+"But, mamma, we cannot shut ourselves up in these rooms. That, with the
+constant fear added to it, would soon make you ill again."
+
+"What can we do?" Mrs. Costello repeated helplessly. "If, indeed, we
+could start to-night, and go south, or go out of France altogether. But
+I have not even money in the house for our journey."
+
+"And if you had, you have not strength for it. Would not it be well to
+consult Mr. Wynter? If we had any friend here who would make the
+arrangement for us, I don't see why we should not be able to go away
+without any fear of meeting this man."
+
+"No; that would not do. To consult George would just be opening up again
+all that was most painful--it would be almost as bad as meeting Bailey
+himself."
+
+"And we could not be stopped even if we did meet Bailey. Let me go
+alone, mamma, and do what is to be done--it is not much. If I meet him I
+shall not know it, and seeing me alone, the likeness cannot be so strong
+as to make him recognize me all at once."
+
+"But he might see us together when we start from here; and he might
+trace us. He would know at once that he could get money from me, and for
+money he would do anything."
+
+She leaned back, and was silent a minute.
+
+"We must keep closely shut up for a little while, till I can decide what
+to do. I wish Maurice would come."
+
+Lucia looked up eagerly. It was her own thought, though she had not
+dared to say it. Maurice could always find the way out of a difficulty.
+
+"Mamma," she said anxiously, but with some hesitation, "I think this is
+need--the kind of need Maurice meant."
+
+"Need, truly. But I do not know--"
+
+"He would be glad to help you. And he knows all about us."
+
+"Yes, I should not have to make long explanations to him."
+
+Just then there was a knock at the door. Both started violently. Absurd
+as it was, they both expected to see Bailey himself enter. Instead, they
+saw Madame Everaert, her round face flushed with walking and her hands
+full of flowers.
+
+"For mademoiselle," she said, laying them down on the table, and nodding
+and smiling good humouredly. "I have been to Rosendahl to see my
+goddaughter there, and she has a magnificent garden, so I brought a few
+flowers for mademoiselle."
+
+Lucia thanked her, and admired the flowers, and she went away without
+suspecting the fright her visit had caused.
+
+"Get your desk, Lucia," Mrs. Costello said, gasping for breath, and
+almost exhausted by the terrible beating of her heart, "and write a note
+for me."
+
+The desk was brought and opened.
+
+"Is it to Maurice?" Lucia asked.
+
+"Yes. Say that we are in great need of a friend."
+
+Lucia began. She found it much more difficult than she had done the
+other night, when she wrote those few impetuous lines which had been
+afterwards torn up.
+
+
+
+    "Dear Maurice," she said, "mamma tells me to write to you, and say
+    that something has happened which has frightened her very much, and
+    that we are in great need of a friend. Will you keep your promise,
+    and come to us?"
+
+
+
+This was what she showed to her mother. When Mrs. Costello had approved
+of it, she wrote a few words more.
+
+
+
+    "I want to ask you to forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I am so
+    unhappy.
+
+                      "Yours affectionately,
+                                         "LUCIA."
+
+
+
+She hesitated a little how to sign herself, but finally wrote just what
+she had been accustomed to put to all her little notes written to
+Maurice during his absences from Cacouna in the old days.
+
+When the letter had been sealed and sent off by Madame Everaert's
+servant to the post-office, they began to feel that all they could do
+for the present was done. Mrs. Costello lay still on her sofa, without
+having strength or energy to talk, and Lucia took her never-finished
+crochet, and sat in her old place by the window.
+
+But very soon it grew too dark to work. The Place was lighted, and alive
+with people passing to and fro. The windows of the guard house opposite
+were brilliant, and from those of a café on the same side as Madame
+Everaert's there shone out, half across the square, a broad line of
+light. In this way, at two places, the figures of those who moved about
+the pavement on each side of the Place, were very plainly visible; even
+the faces of some could be distinguished. Lucia watched these people
+to-night with a new interest. Every time the strong glare fell upon a
+shabby slouching figure, or on a poorly dressed man who wanted the air
+of being a Frenchman, she thought, "Is that Bailey?" When the lamp came
+in, Mrs. Costello had fallen asleep, so Lucia turned it down low, and
+still sat at the window. The light on the tower shone out clear and
+bright--above it the stars looked pale, but the sky was perfectly
+serene. Maurice, if he came soon, had every prospect of a fair passage.
+"And he will come," she thought to herself, "even if he is really too
+much vexed with me to forgive me, he will come for mamma's sake."
+
+All next day they both kept indoors. Lucia tried to persuade her mother
+to drive out into the country, but even for this Mrs. Costello had not
+courage. At the same time she seemed to be losing all sense of security
+in the house. She fancied she had not sufficiently impressed on Father
+Paul the importance of not betraying her in any way to Bailey. She
+wished to write and remind him of this, but she dared not lest her note
+should fall into wrong hands. Then she thought of asking him to visit
+her, but hesitated also about that till it was too late. In short, was
+in a perfectly unreasonable and incapable condition--fear had taken such
+hold of her in her weak state of health that Lucia began to think it
+would end in nervous fever. With her the dread of Bailey began to be
+quite lost in apprehension for her mother, and her own affairs had to
+be put altogether on one side to make room for these new anxieties.
+
+In the afternoon of that day Mrs. Costello suddenly roused herself from
+a fit of thought.
+
+"We must go somewhere," she said. "That is certain, whatever else is. As
+soon as Maurice comes we ought to be prepared to start. Do go, Lucia,
+and see if there is any packing you can do--without attracting
+attention, you know."
+
+"But, mamma," Lucia objected, "Maurice cannot be here to-day, nor even,
+I believe, to-morrow, at the very soonest, and I will soon do what there
+is to do."
+
+"There is a great deal. And I can't help you, my poor child. And there
+ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay."
+
+Lucia had to yield. She began to pack as if all their arrangements were
+made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their
+wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about
+them of their intended departure.
+
+Another restless night passed, and another day began. There was the
+faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as
+soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night.
+
+It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at
+some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter
+might not reach him till this very morning. Yet, since he _might_ come,
+they must do all they could to be ready. The day was very hot. All the
+windows were open, and the shutters closed; a drowsy heat and stillness
+filled the rooms. Mrs. Costello walked about perpetually. She had tried
+to help Lucia, but had been obliged to leave off and content herself
+with gathering up, here and there, the things that were in daily use,
+and bringing them to Lucia to put away. They said very little to each
+other. Mrs. Costello could think of nothing but Bailey, and she did not
+dare to talk about him from some fanciful fear of being overheard. Lucia
+thought of her mother's health and of Maurice, and Mrs. Costello had no
+attention to spare for either.
+
+Suddenly, sounding very loud in the stillness, there came the roll of a
+carriage over the rough stones of the Place. It stopped; there was a
+moment's pause, and then a hasty ring at the door-bell. Both mother and
+daughter paused and listened. There was a quick movement downstairs--a
+foot which was swifter and lighter than Madame Everaert's on the
+staircase--and Maurice at the sitting-room door.
+
+Mrs. Costello went forward from the doorway where she had been arrested
+by the sound of his coming; Lucia, kneeling before a trunk in the
+adjoining room, saw him standing there, and sprang to her feet; he came
+in glad, eager, impatient to know what they wanted of him; and before
+any of them had time to think about it, this meeting, so much desired
+and dreaded, was over.
+
+"But how could you come so soon?" Mrs. Costello asked. "We did not
+expect you till to-morrow."
+
+"By the greatest chance. I had been in town for two days. Our station
+and post-office are at the same place. When they met me at the station,
+they brought me letters which had just arrived, and yours was among
+them. So I was able to catch the next train back to London, instead of
+going home."
+
+"And which way did you come? The boat is not in yet?"
+
+"By Calais. It was quicker. Now tell me what has happened."
+
+Mrs. Costello looked carefully to see that the door was shut. Then she
+told Maurice who and what she feared, and how she could not even leave
+Bourg-Cailloux without help.
+
+"Yet, I think I ought to leave," she said.
+
+"Of course you ought," Maurice answered. "You must go to England."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy
+journey, and you would be quite safe there."
+
+"But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather
+uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there."
+
+"I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might
+perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying
+you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea
+you are in Europe at all."
+
+Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice
+inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her
+packing, leaving the door ajar that she might hear their voices. She
+went on with her work in a strange tumult and confusion. Not a word
+beyond the first greetings had passed between Maurice and herself, but
+she could not help feeling as if their positions were somehow
+changed--and not for the worse.
+
+There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her
+hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks
+grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making
+some confession.
+
+After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She
+began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she
+was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last
+opinion.
+
+Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go
+out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her.
+
+"He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat
+to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths."
+
+"To-night, mamma, for England?"
+
+Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be
+sure," she said; "why, my dear child, you yourself thought England
+would be the best place."
+
+"I did _think_ so certainly, but I did not know I had said it."
+
+"Well, can we be ready?"
+
+"I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to
+arrange with."
+
+"We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that."
+
+"I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise
+you will not be able to go."
+
+Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her
+enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished,
+and lay quietly waiting for his coming back.
+
+Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk
+just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the
+decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of
+excitement and fatigue on her cheeks.
+
+"Are we to go?" she said quickly.
+
+"I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be
+ready?"
+
+"By what time?"
+
+"Nine o'clock."
+
+"Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now."
+
+"Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad
+boat, and there is room for us on board."
+
+"Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked.
+
+"Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I
+made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it
+would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come."
+
+"You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!"
+
+"You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be
+afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary."
+
+"If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite
+helpless, quite upset by this last terror."
+
+"But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you
+were upset."
+
+"That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half
+smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to make me believe she depends on me, and
+you try to take away the flattering impression."
+
+"Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows--" but there she got into
+confusion and stopped.
+
+"Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and
+tell her we are going."
+
+Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the
+departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour
+was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux.
+
+Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour
+named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest
+as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where
+so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from
+habit, took her seat by the window.
+
+Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when
+we reach England?"
+
+"Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so
+pleased--and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she
+hears."
+
+"That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only
+coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to
+find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should
+certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it."
+
+"Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out."
+
+"I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two."
+
+"Well, if you _prefer_ it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well
+that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When
+you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you."
+
+While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the
+Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas--for the last time she
+watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way
+they would be able to see it still.
+
+Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go.
+
+The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the
+cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving
+each moment, and their luggage stood piled up ready to be embarked.
+Sailors were talking or shouting to each other in English and French;
+the cargo of fruit and vegetables was still being stowed away, and
+people were running against other people in the darkness, and trying
+vainly to discover their own trunks on the deck, or their own berths in
+the cabin. Into the midst of all this confusion Maurice brought his
+charges; but as he had been on board in the afternoon, he knew where to
+take them, and they found their own quarters without difficulty. While
+he saw to their packages, they made their arrangements for the night.
+
+"I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable
+here, and I think it is always best."
+
+"But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind
+my leaving you for a little while?"
+
+"Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you
+dislike it. Maurice will take care of you."
+
+But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother
+comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had
+not yet started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old
+town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the
+starry sky.
+
+She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this
+last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy
+here. I wonder if England will be happier?'
+
+She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at
+the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning
+to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and
+spoke.
+
+"Lucia, it _is_ you then? I thought you would not be able to stay
+below."
+
+"No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely."
+
+"The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a
+little--unless you are tired?"
+
+"I am tired, but to walk will rest me."
+
+As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute
+they were silent.
+
+"Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an
+impossibility."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Our being together--as we are now."
+
+"Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble."
+
+"Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send
+for me."
+
+"You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other
+friend to send for."
+
+"Is that so? Was that the only reason?"
+
+"Maurice!"
+
+"Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?"
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"You said you were unhappy."
+
+"Oh! yes, I was. _So_ unhappy--I was thinking of it just now."
+
+"And at present? Are you unhappy still?"
+
+"You know I am not."
+
+"I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to
+do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came."
+
+He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say.
+
+"It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose
+one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like
+to be quite happy."
+
+Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously.
+
+"Don't be unreasonable," she said.
+
+"But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what
+I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and
+be my wife?"
+
+They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of
+them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice
+understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that
+from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate,
+or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still.
+
+They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that
+other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the
+starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new
+life had begun--a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before
+their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When
+Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first
+allusion to what had brought them together.
+
+"I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his
+misdoings."
+
+"What good deed?"
+
+"Frightening you."
+
+"He did not frighten me."
+
+"Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end.
+But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?"
+
+"Ask mamma."
+
+"I have something more interesting to ask her."
+
+Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night,
+what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was
+a _Nunc Dimittis_ sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell
+asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who
+had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below,
+spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven
+o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She
+only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but
+presently came back with her mother.
+
+They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming
+nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still
+waters.
+
+"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late
+starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year."
+
+"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered.
+
+"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to
+you, Maurice."
+
+"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to
+that last night."
+
+Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled.
+
+"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought
+she was never coming."
+
+"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started."
+
+"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak
+quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own
+arrangements for the future?"
+
+"I think you are pretty sure of my leave."
+
+"Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?"
+
+"Are those your arrangements?"
+
+"Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in
+London."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two
+children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my
+finding a house for myself and my daughter--as long as she is only my
+daughter."
+
+Maurice had to give way a second time.
+
+"Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in
+London, too."
+
+"But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that
+you are to go home and attend to your own affairs."
+
+They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took
+possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit
+them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course,
+she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with
+them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for
+home next morning.
+
+As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin.
+She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France
+suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return
+to England, and that she was anxious to see and consult with him. She
+begged him, therefore, to come up to town and to bring one at least of
+his daughters with him on a visit to Lucia.
+
+When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose
+that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done
+then?"
+
+"Surely that cannot be?"
+
+"I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on
+the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had
+the decision in his hands."
+
+After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+But before Mr. Wynter had time to reply.--indeed, by the very first
+possible post--came a letter to Lucia, the sight of which made her very
+rosy. She had had plenty of letters from Maurice long ago, and never
+blushed over them as she did over this; but then this was so different.
+She did not even like to read it in her mother's presence. She just
+glanced at it there, and carried it off to devour in comfort alone. It
+was quite short, after all, for he had scarcely had ten minutes before
+the post hour; but it said--beside several things which were of no
+interest except to the reader--that he had found Lady Dighton at Hunsdon
+on his arrival, and had told her and his father together of his
+engagement; that his cousin was going to write and invite Mrs. Costello
+to Dighton; and that Mr. Leigh said, if they did not come down
+immediately, he should be obliged to start for London himself to tell
+them how pleased he was.
+
+"At any rate," Maurice concluded, "I shall be in town again on Saturday.
+I find I have business to see my lawyer about."
+
+All this--as well as the rest of the note--was very agreeable. Lucia
+went and sat down on a footstool at her mother's feet to tell her the
+news. Mrs. Costello laid her hand on her child's head and sighed softly.
+
+"You will have to give up this fashion of yours, darling," she said,
+"you must learn to be a woman now."
+
+Lucia laughed.
+
+"I don't believe I ever shall," she answered. "At least, not with you or
+with Maurice."
+
+"Would you like to go to Dighton?"
+
+She considered for a minute.
+
+"Yes, mamma, I think I should. You know how things are in those great
+houses; but I have never seen anything but Canada, and even there, just
+the country. I should not like, by-and-by, for people to laugh at
+Maurice, because I was only an ignorant country girl."
+
+She spoke very slowly and timidly; but Mrs. Costello began to think she
+was right. It would be as well that the future mistress of Hunsdon
+should have some little introduction to her new world, to prepare her
+for "by-and-by."
+
+Next day came two letters for Mrs. Costello, as well as one for Lucia.
+The first was from Lady Dighton full of congratulation, and pressing her
+invitation; the other, from Mr. Wynter, announced that he, his wife, and
+daughter, would be in London next evening. Next evening was Saturday,
+and Maurice also would be there, and would, of course spend Sunday with
+them; so that they had a prospect of plenty of guests.
+
+Maurice, however, arrived early in the day. He had established himself
+at a neighbouring hotel, and came in quite with the old air of being at
+home. He made a little grimace when he heard of the others who were
+expected, but contented himself by making the most of the hours before
+their train was due. He found an opportunity also of conveying to Mrs.
+Costello his conviction that Hunsdon was very much in want of a lady to
+make it comfortable, and that Lucia would be much better there than
+shut up in London. The fact that London was in its glory at that moment
+made no impression on him.
+
+"That is just it," he said, when this was suggested to him. "I want to
+get it settled and bring her back to enjoy herself here a little before
+the season is over."
+
+It seemed, indeed, pretty evident that the present state of things could
+not last long; there was no reason why it should, and nothing but the
+bride's preparations to delay the long-desired wedding.
+
+The Wynters came about nine o'clock. Mrs. Wynter instantly recognized
+Maurice. Her daughters had speculated enough about her mysterious
+visitor that winter night, to have prevented her forgetting him, if she
+would otherwise have done so, and the state of affairs at present was
+very soon evident as an explanation of the mystery. When the party
+separated for the night, Mrs. Costello and Mr. Wynter remained in the
+drawing-room for that consultation for which he had come, while his wife
+and daughter stayed together upstairs to talk over their new relations
+before going to bed.
+
+Mrs. Costello, as briefly as possible, made her cousin comprehend that
+she had been compelled to leave France, and had fled to England because
+it was the most accessible refuge.
+
+"I never meant to have come back," she said. "I have never allowed
+myself to think of it, because I could not disobey my father again."
+
+"I am glad you have come, to tell you the truth;" he answered. "I do not
+at all imagine that, in your present circumstances, my uncle would have
+wished to keep you away."
+
+Mrs. Costello looked relieved.
+
+"I am almost inclined to go further," he continued, "and to say that he
+must have anticipated your return."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because in his will he gives you your income unconditionally, and only
+expresses a wish that you should not come back."
+
+"Is it so really?"
+
+"Certainly. But you have a copy of the will."
+
+"It has not been unpacked since we came from Canada. I had made it so
+much my duty to obey the request that I had forgotten it had no
+condition attached to it."
+
+"It has none."
+
+"I am very glad; and you think he would have changed his mind now?"
+
+"I think so. Especially as it seems to me Lucia is likely to settle in
+England."
+
+"Yes, indeed. That was the second thing I wanted to speak to you about."
+
+"They are engaged, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; it has been the wish of my heart for years. Maurice is like a son
+to me."
+
+They discussed the matter in its more commonplace aspect. The wealth and
+position of the bridegroom elect were points as to which Mr. Wynter felt
+it his business to inquire, and when he found these so satisfactory, he
+congratulated his cousin with great cordiality, and plainly expressed
+his opinion that delays in such a case were useless and objectionable.
+He liked Lucia, and admired her, and thought, too, that there would be
+no better way of blotting out the remembrance of the mother's
+unfortunate marriage than by a prosperous one on the part of the
+daughter.
+
+Meantime Mrs. Wynter sat in an easy-chair by her dressing-table, and her
+daughter was curled up on the floor near her.
+
+"Well, mamma," Miss Wynter said, "you see I was right. I knew perfectly
+well that there must be some romance at the bottom of it all."
+
+"You were very wise, my dear."
+
+"And, mamma, if I had seen Lucia, I should have been still more sure.
+Why, she is perfectly lovely! I hope she will let me be her bridesmaid."
+
+"Tiny, you know I don't approve of your talking in that way."
+
+"What way, mamma? Of course, they are going to be married. Anybody can
+see that."
+
+"If they are, no doubt we shall hear in good time."
+
+"And I am sure, if either of us were to marry half as well, the whole
+house would be in a flutter. I mean to be very good friends with Lucia,
+and then, perhaps, she will invite me to go and see her. And I _must_ be
+her bridesmaid, because I am her nearest relation; and she can't have
+any friends in England, and I shall make her let me have a white dress
+with blue ribbons."
+
+Mrs. Wynter still reproved, but she smiled, too; and Tiny being a
+spoiled child, needed no greater encouragement. She stopped in her
+mother's room until she heard Mr. Wynter coming, when she fled,
+dishevelled, to her own, and dropped asleep, to dream of following Lucia
+up the aisle of an impossible church, dressed in white with ribbons of
+_bleu de ciel_.
+
+Lucia perhaps had said to herself also that she meant to be good friends
+with Tiny. At all events, the two girls did get on excellently together;
+before the week which the Wynters spent in London was at an end, they
+had discussed as much of Lucia's love story as she was disposed to tell,
+and arranged that Tiny and her sister should really officiate on that
+occasion to which everybody's thoughts were now beginning to be
+directed.
+
+Another week found the Costellos at Dighton. They meant to stay a
+fortnight or three weeks, and then to return to town until the marriage;
+but of this no one of their Norfolk friends would hear a word. Lady
+Dighton, Maurice, and Mr. Leigh had made up their minds that Lucia
+should not leave the county until she did so a bride; and they carried
+their point. The wedding-day was fixed; and Lucia found herself left, at
+last, almost without a voice in the decision of her own destiny.
+
+And yet, these last weeks of her girlhood were almost too happy. She
+went over several times with her mother and Lady Dighton to Hunsdon,
+and grew familiar with her future home; she saw the charming rooms that
+were being prepared for herself, and could sit down in the midst of all
+this new wealth and luxury, and talk with Maurice about the old times
+when they had no splendour, but little less happiness than now; and she
+had delicious hours of castle-building, sometimes alone, sometimes with
+her betrothed, which were pleasanter than any actual realization of
+their dreams could be.
+
+Of course, they had endless talks, in which they said the same things
+over and over again, or said nothing at all; but they knew each other so
+thoroughly now, and each was so completely acquainted with all the
+other's past that there was truly nothing for them to tell or to hear,
+except the one old story which is always new.
+
+One day, however, Maurice came over to Dighton in a great hurry, with a
+letter for Lucia to read. He took her out into the garden, and when they
+were quite alone he took it out and showed it to her.
+
+"What is it?" she said. "It looks like a French letter."
+
+"It is French. Do you remember your friend, Father Paul?"
+
+"Of course. Oh, Maurice! it cannot be about Bailey?"
+
+"Indeed, it is. But don't look frightened. I wrote to Father Paul, and
+this is his answer."
+
+"What made you write?"
+
+"Did not I say I would pension Bailey? _I_ don't forget my promises if
+other people do."
+
+"Surely, you were only joking?"
+
+"Very far from it, I assure you. Your good friend undertook to manage
+it, and he writes to me that my letter only arrived in time; that Bailey
+was ill, and quite dependent on charity, and that he is willing to
+administer the money I send in small doses suitable to the patient's
+condition."
+
+"But, Maurice, it is perfect nonsense. Why should you give money to that
+wretched man? _We_ might, indeed, do something for him."
+
+"Who are 'we?' You had better be careful at present how you use your
+personal pronouns."
+
+"I meant mamma and I might, of course."
+
+"I do not see the 'of course' at all. Mamma has nothing whatever to do
+with it--nor even you. This is simply a mark of gratitude to Mr. Bailey
+for a service he did me lately."
+
+Lucia let her hand rest a little less lightly on Maurice's arm.
+
+"And me too," she said softly.
+
+"Use your 'we' in its right sense, then, and _we_ will reward him. But
+not unless you are sure that you do not repent having been frightened."
+
+"Ah! you don't know how glad I was when mamma made me write that note.
+It did better than the one I tore up."
+
+"What was that? Did you tear one up?"
+
+"Yes. After all, I don't believe you were as miserable as I was; for I
+wrote once; I did actually write and ask you to come--only I tore up the
+note--and you were consoling yourself with Miss Landor."
+
+"Miss Landor! By the way, has she been asked to come over, for the
+tenth?"
+
+"I don't know. You ought to ask her yourself. Why did not you propose to
+her, Maurice? Or perhaps you did?"
+
+"If I did not, you may thank Bailey. Yes, indeed, Lucia, you contrived
+so well to persuade me you never would care for me that I began to
+imagine it was best I should marry her; that is, supposing she would
+have me."
+
+"And all the while I was doing nothing but think of you, and of how
+wicked and ungrateful and all sorts of bad things I had been in Paris."
+
+"And I--" etc. etc.
+
+The rest of their conversation that morning was much like it was on
+other days, and certainly not worth repeating. Lucia, however, took the
+first opportunity of speaking to Lady Dighton about Miss Landor, and
+seeing that her invitation for the wedding was not neglected.
+
+The tenth of July, Lucia's birthday and her marriage-day, came quickly
+to end these pleasant weeks of courtship. It was glorious weather--never
+bride in our English climate had more sunshine on her--and the whole
+county rung with the report of her wonderful beauty, and of the romantic
+story of these two young people, who had suddenly appeared from the
+unknown regions of Canada, and taken such a prominent and brilliant
+place in the neighbourhood.
+
+But they troubled themselves little just then, either with their own
+marvellous fortunes or with the gossip of their neighbours. Out of the
+quaint old church where generations of Dightons had been married and
+buried, they came together, man and wife; and went away into "that new
+world which is the old," to fulfil, as they best might, the dream to
+which one of them had been so faithful. They went away in a great
+clamour of bells and voices, and left Mrs. Costello alone, to comfort
+herself with the thought that the changes and troubles of the past had
+but served to redeem its errors, and to bring her, at last, the fuller
+and more perfect realization of her heart's desire.
+
+
+  THE END.
+
+  PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,
+  LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, by Mrs. Harry Coghill
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Canadian Heroine, 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
+       A Novel, Volume 3 (of 3)
+
+Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill
+
+Release Date: April 8, 2006 [EBook #18132]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE ***
+
+
+
+
+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."&mdash;<i>Inferno. Canto II.</i></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="1">&nbsp;</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 &ocirc; sublimes montagnes,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bords du superbe St. Laurent!</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Habitant de cette contr&eacute;e</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Que nature veut embellir,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Tu peux marcher t&ecirc;te lev&eacute;e,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ton pays doit t'enorgueillir."&mdash;<i>J. Bedard.</i></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<h3>IN THREE VOLUMES.</h3>
+<h3>VOL. III.</h3>
+
+
+<p class='center'>LONDON:<br />
+TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET. STRAND.<br />
+1873.</p>
+
+<p class='center'>[<i>All rights Reserved.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class='center'>PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,<br />
+LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr>
+<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 XVIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<h2>A CANADIAN HEROINE.</h2>
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Leigh was in a very depressed and anxious mood. His late
+conversations with Mrs. Costello had disturbed him and broken up the
+current of his thoughts, and even to some extent of his usual
+occupations, without producing any result beneficial to either of them.
+She had told him a strange and almost incredible story of her life; and
+then, just when he was full of sympathy and eagerness to be of use to
+her, everything seemed suddenly to have changed, and the events that
+followed had been wholly, as it were, out of his reach. He thought over
+the matter with a little sensation, which, if he had been less simple
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>and generous a man, might have been offence. Even as it was, he felt
+uncomfortably divided between his real interest in his old friends, and
+a temptation to pretend that he was not interested at all. He
+remembered, too, with a serio-comical kind of remorse, the manner in
+which he had spoken to Mrs. Costello about Maurice. He was obliged to
+confess to himself that Maurice had never said a word to him which could
+be taken as expressing any other than a brotherly feeling of regard for
+Lucia; he had certainly <i>fancied</i> that there was another kind of
+affection in his thoughts; but it was no part of the old soldier's code
+of honour to sanction the betrayal of a secret discovered by chance, and
+he felt guilty in remembering how far the warmth of his friendship had
+carried him. He considered, by way of tormenting himself yet further,
+that it was perfectly possible for a young man, being daily in the
+company of a beautiful and charming girl, to fancy himself in love with
+her, and yet, on passing into a different world and seeing other
+charming girls, to discover that he had been mistaken. It is true that
+if any other person had suggested that Maurice might have done this, Mr.
+Leigh would have been utterly offended and indignant; nevertheless,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>having proposed the idea to himself, he tried to look upon it as quite
+natural and justifiable. After all, this second theory of inconstancy
+rested upon the first theory of supposed love, and that upon guesses and
+surmises, so that the whole edifice was just as shadowy and
+unsubstantial as it could well be. But then it is curious to see how
+much real torment people manage to extract from visionary troubles.</p>
+
+<p>While his neighbours were still at Moose Island Mr. Leigh received two
+letters from Maurice. The first not only did not contain the usual note
+enclosed for Mrs. Costello, but there was not the slightest message to,
+or mention of, either her or Lucia. Mr. Leigh examined the letter,
+peeped into the envelope, shook the sheets apart (for Maurice's writing
+filled much space with few words), but found nothing. The real
+explanation of this was simple enough. Maurice had written his note to
+Mrs. Costello, and then, just as he was going to put it in the envelope,
+was called to his grandfather. In getting up from the table he gave the
+note a push, which sent it down into a wastepaper basket. There it lay
+unnoticed, and when he came back, just in time to send off his letters,
+he fancied, not seeing it, that he had put it into the envelope, which
+accordingly he closed and sent to the post<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> without it. But of course
+Mr. Leigh knew nothing about this.</p>
+
+<p>The second letter was equally without enclosure or message, though from
+a very different cause. It was scarcely a dozen lines in length, and
+only said that Mr. Beresford was dying. Maurice had just received Mrs.
+Costello's farewell note; he was feeling angry and grieved, and could
+think of no better expedient than to keep silence for the moment, even
+if he had had time to renew his expostulations. He had not fully
+comprehended the secret Mrs. Costello entrusted to him, but in the
+preoccupations of the moment, he put off all concerns but those of the
+dying man until he should have more leisure to attend to them. Thus, by
+a double chance, Mr. Leigh was allowed to persuade himself that Maurice
+had either never had any absorbing interest in the Costellos, or that
+his interest in them was being gradually supplanted by others. In this
+opinion, and in a curiously uncomfortable and contradictory humour, his
+friends found him when they came back from the island.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello, on her part, had been entirely unable to keep Maurice out
+of her thoughts. As Christian's death, and all the agitation consequent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
+upon it, settled back into the past, she had plenty of leisure and
+plenty of temptation to revert to her old hopes and schemes. Half
+consciously she had allowed herself to build up a charming fabric of
+possibilities. <i>Possibly</i> Maurice might write and say, "It is Lucia I
+love, Lucia I want to marry. It matters nothing to me what her father is
+or was." (Quixotic and not-to-be-counted-upon piece of generosity!)
+<i>Possibly</i> she herself might then be justified in answering, "The
+accusation brought against her father has been proved false&mdash;my child is
+stainless&mdash;and you have proved your right to her;" and it was
+impossible, she believed, that Lucia, hearing all the truth, should not
+be touched as they would have her.</p>
+
+<p>These imaginations, built upon such ardent and long-indulged wishes,
+acquired a considerable degree of strength during her visit to Mr.
+Strafford; and although a little surprised at not receiving, during her
+stay there, the usual weekly note from Maurice which she had calculated
+would cross her last important letter on the way, she came home eager to
+see Mr. Leigh, and to hear from him the last news from England.</p>
+
+<p>But when she had paid her visit to her old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> neighbour, she came back
+puzzled, disappointed, and slightly indignant. There was an air of
+constraint about Mr. Leigh, especially when he spoke of Maurice, which
+was so entirely new as to appear a great deal more significant than it
+really was; and this, added to the fact that two letters had been
+received, one written before, and the other after the arrival of hers,
+neither of which contained so much as a message for her or Lucia,
+suddenly suggested to Mrs. Costello that she was a very foolish woman
+who was still wasting her wishes and thoughts on plans, the time for
+which had gone by, instead of following steadily, and without
+hesitation, what her reason told her was the best and most sensible
+course. She so far convinced herself that it was time to give up
+thinking of Lucia's marriage to Maurice, as to be really in earnest both
+in completing her preparations for leaving Canada, and in rejoicing at
+the receipt of a letter from her cousin expressing his perfect approval
+of her decision to return to Europe.</p>
+
+<p>This letter even Lucia could not help acknowledge to be thoroughly kind
+and kinsmanlike. Mr. Wynter proposed to meet them at Havre, and, if
+possible, accompany them to Paris.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If you are travelling alone," he said, "I may be of service to you; and
+since you have decided on going to France, I should like to see you
+comfortably settled there. By that means, too, we shall have plenty of
+time to talk over whatever arrangements you wish made with regard to
+your daughter. However, I have great hopes that when you find yourself
+away from the places where you have suffered so much, and near your own
+people, you will grow quite strong again."</p>
+
+<p>There were messages from his wife and daughters, in conclusion, which
+seemed to promise that they also would be ready to welcome their unknown
+relatives.</p>
+
+<p>"Blood is thicker than water." Mrs. Costello began to feel that the one
+secure asylum for Lucia, in her probable orphanhood, would be in the old
+house by the Dee.</p>
+
+<p>The next time she saw Mr. Leigh, she told him her plans quite frankly.
+She did so with some suspicion of his real feelings, only that in spite
+of their long acquaintance she did him the injustice to fancy that he
+would, for reasons of his own, be glad that Lucia should be out of
+Maurice's way if he returned to Canada. She supposed that he had,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> on
+reflection, begun to shrink from the idea of a half-Indian
+daughter-in-law, and while she confessed to herself that the feeling
+was, according to ordinary custom, reasonable enough, she was at heart
+extremely angry that it should be entertained.</p>
+
+<p>"My beautiful Lucia!" she said to herself indignantly; "as if she were
+not ten times more lovely, and a thousand times more worth loving, than
+any of those well-born, daintily brought up, pretty dolls, that Lady
+Dighton is likely to find for him! I did think better of Maurice. But,
+of course, it is all right enough. I had no right to expect him to be
+more than mortal."</p>
+
+<p>And Lucia went on in the most perfect unconsciousness of all the
+troubled thoughts circling round her. She spoke honestly of her regret
+at leaving Canada when, perhaps, Maurice might so soon be there, though
+she kept to herself the hopes which made her going so much less sad than
+it would have been otherwise. She was extremely busy, for Mrs. Costello,
+now that she thought no more of returning to the Cottage, had decided to
+sell it; all their possessions, therefore, had to be divided into three
+parts, the furniture to be sold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> with the house, their more personal
+belongings to go with them, and various books and knickknacks to be left
+as keepsakes with their friends. It was generally known now all over
+Cacouna that Mrs. Costello was going "home," in order that Lucia might
+be near her relations in case of "anything happening,"&mdash;a thing nobody
+doubted the probability of, who saw the change made during the last few
+months in their grave and quiet neighbour. They were a little vague in
+their information about these relations, but that was a matter of
+secondary importance; and as the mother and daughter were really very
+much liked by their neighbours, they were quite overwhelmed with
+invitations and visits.</p>
+
+<p>So the days passed on quickly; and for the second time, the one fixed
+for their journey was close at hand. One more letter had arrived from
+Maurice, containing the news of his grandfather's death. It was short,
+like the previous one, and almost equally hurried. He said that he was
+struggling through the flood of business brought upon him by his
+accession to estates so large, and till lately so zealously cared for by
+their possessor. As soon as ever he could get away, he meant to start
+for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> Canada; and as the time of his doing so depended only on his
+success in hurrying on certain affairs which were already in hand, his
+father might expect him by any mail except the first after his letter
+arrived. There was no message to Mrs. Costello in this note, but, on the
+other side of the half sheet which held the conclusion of it, was a
+postscript hastily scrawled,</p>
+
+<p>"Tell Mrs. Costello to remember the last talk we had together, and to
+believe that I am obstinate."</p>
+
+<p>This postscript, however, Mr. Leigh in his excitement and joy at the
+prospect of so soon seeing his son, never found out. He read the letter
+twice over, and then put it away in his desk, without even remembering
+at the moment, to wonder at Maurice's continued silence towards his old
+friends. The thought did strike him afterwards, but he was quite certain
+that he had read every word of the letter, and was only confirmed in the
+ideas he had begun to entertain. He sighed over these ideas, and over
+the loss of Lucia, whom he loved with almost fatherly affection; but
+still, even she was infinitely less dear to him than Maurice; and if
+Maurice really did not care for her, why then,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> sooner than throw the
+smallest shadow of blame upon him, <i>he</i> would not seem to care for her
+either.</p>
+
+<p>So Mrs. Costello learned that Maurice was coming, and that he had not
+thought it worth while to send even a word to his old friends.</p>
+
+<p>"He is the only one," she thought, "who has changed towards us, and I
+trusted him most of all."</p>
+
+<p>And she took refuge from her disappointment in anger. Her disappointment
+and her anger, however, were both silent; she would not say an ill word
+to Lucia of Maurice; and Lucia, engrossed in her work and her
+anticipations, did not perhaps remark that there was any change. She
+made one attempt to persuade her mother to delay their journey until
+after Maurice's arrival, but, being reminded that their passage was
+taken, she consoled herself with,</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it will be easy enough for him to come to see us. I suppose
+everybody in England goes to Paris sometimes?"</p>
+
+<p>And so the end came. They had not neglected Maurice's charge, though
+Maurice seemed to have forgotten them. Whatever was possible to do to
+provide for Mr. Leigh's comfort during his short<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> solitude they had
+done. The last farewells were said; Mr. Strafford, who had insisted on
+going with them to New York, had arrived at the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs
+and Bella had spent their last day with their friends and gone away in
+tears. All their life at Cacouna, with its happiness and its sorrow, was
+over, and early next morning they were to cross the river for the last
+time, and begin their journey to England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Maurice had full opportunity for the exercise of patience during the
+last weeks of his grandfather's life. It was hard to sit there day after
+day watching the half-conscious old man, who lay so still and seemed so
+shut out from human feelings or sympathies, and to feel all the while
+that any one of those hours of vigil might be the one that stole from
+him his heart's desire. Yet there was no alternative. His grandfather,
+who had received and adopted him, was suffering and solitary, dependent
+wholly on him for what small gratification he could still enjoy.
+Gratitude, therefore, and duty kept him here. But <i>there</i>, meanwhile, so
+far out of his reach, what might be going on? He lived a perfectly
+double<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> life. Lucia was in trouble&mdash;some inexplicable shadow of disgrace
+was threatening her&mdash;something so grave that even her mother, who knew
+him so well, thought it an unsurmountable barrier between
+them&mdash;something which looked the more awful from its vagueness and
+mystery. It is true that he was only troubled&mdash;not discouraged by the
+appearance of this phantom. He was as ready to fight for his Una as ever
+was Redcross Knight&mdash;but then would his Una wait for him? To be forcibly
+held back from the combat must have been much worse to a true champion
+than any wounds he could receive in fair fight. So at least it seemed to
+Maurice, secretly chafing, and then bitterly reproaching himself for his
+impatience; yet the next moment growing as impatient as before.</p>
+
+<p>To him in this mood came Mrs. Costello's last letter. Now at last the
+mystery was cleared up, and its impalpable shape reduced to a positive
+and ugly reality. Like his father, Maurice found no small difficulty in
+understanding and believing the story told to him. That Mrs. Costello,
+calm, gentle, and just touched with a quiet stateliness, as he had
+always known her, could ever have been an impulsive, romantic girl, so
+swayed by passion or by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> flattery as to have left her father's house and
+all the protecting restraints of her English life to follow the fortunes
+of an Indian, was an idea so startling that he could not at once accept
+it for truth. In Lucia the incongruity struck him less. Her beauty, dark
+and magnificent, her fearless nature, her slender erect shape, her free
+and graceful movements&mdash;all the charms which he had by heart, suited an
+Indian origin. He could readily imagine her the daughter of a chief and
+a hero. But this was not what he was required to believe. He had read
+lately the description of a brutal, half-imbecile savage, who had
+committed a peculiarly frightful and revolting murder, and he was told
+to recognize in this wretch the father of his darling. But it was just
+this which saved him. He would believe that Christian was Mrs.
+Costello's husband and Lucia's father, because Mrs. Costello told him so
+herself and of her own knowledge&mdash;but as for a murder, innocent men were
+often accused of that; and when a man is once accused by the popular
+voice of a horrible crime, everybody knows how freely appropriate
+qualities can be bestowed on him. So the conviction which remained at
+the bottom of Maurice's mind, though he never drew it up and looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
+steadily at it, was just the truth&mdash;that Christian, by some train of
+circumstances or other, had been made to bear the weight of another
+person's guilt. As to the other question of his giving up Lucia, Maurice
+never troubled himself to think about it. He was, it must be confessed,
+of a singularly obstinate disposition, and in spite of his legal
+training not particularly inclined to listen to reason. Knowing
+therefore perfectly well, that he had made up his mind to marry Lucia,
+provided she did not deliberately prefer somebody else, he felt it
+useless to complicate his already confused ideas any further, by taking
+into consideration the expediency of such a connection. There was quite
+enough to worry him without that; and by some inconceivable stupidity it
+never entered his head that, while he was really so completely incapable
+of altering his mind, other people should seriously think he was doing
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Yet as he read Mrs. Costello's letter over a second time, he began to
+perceive something in its tone which seemed to say clearly&mdash;"Don't
+flatter yourself that the matter rests at all with you. I have decided.
+I am no longer your ally, but your opponent." At this a new element came
+into play&mdash;anger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He had been rather unreasonable before&mdash;now he became utterly so. "A
+pretty sort of fellow she must think me, after all," he said to himself.
+"I suppose she'd be afraid to trust Lucia to me now. However, if she
+thinks I mean to be beaten that way, she'll find that she is mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>He was walking up and down his room, and working himself up into a
+greater ill-humour with every turn he made.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could only get to Lucia herself," he went on thinking, "I should
+see if I could not end the matter at once, one way or the other&mdash;that
+fellow is clear out of the way now, and I believe I should have a
+chance; but as for Mrs. Costello, she seems to think nothing at all of
+throwing me over whenever it suits her."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Maurice! he sat down to write to his father in a miserable
+mood&mdash;Mr. Beresford had become suddenly and decidedly worse. The doctors
+said positively that he was dying, and that a few days at the utmost
+would bring the end. Maurice had stolen away while he slept, but his
+angry meditation on Mrs. Costello's desertion had taken up so much of
+his time, that Mr. Leigh's note was short and hurried. Ill-humour
+prevailed also to the point of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> the note being finished without any
+message (he had no time to write separately) to the Cottage.</p>
+
+<p>His packet despatched, he returned to his grandfather's room. Lady
+Dighton, now staying in the house, sat and watched by the bedside; and
+by-and-by leaving her post, she joined Maurice by the window and began
+to talk to him in a low voice. There was no fear of disturbing the
+invalid; his sleep continued, deep and lethargic, the near forerunner of
+death.</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice," Lady Dighton said, "I wish you would go out for an hour. You
+are not really wanted here, and you look worn out."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, I am all right. My grandfather might wake and miss me."</p>
+
+<p>"Go for a little while. Half an hour's gallop would do you good."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice laughed impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I want doing good to? It is you, I should think, who ought
+to go out."</p>
+
+<p>"I was out yesterday. Are you still anxious about your father and
+Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dighton's straightforward question meant to be answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Maurice said rather crossly. "I am anxious and worried."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You can do no good by writing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I seem to do harm. Don't talk to me about it, Louisa. Nothing but my
+being there could have done any good, and now it is most likely too
+late."</p>
+
+<p>She saw plainly enough the fight that was going on&mdash;impatience,
+eagerness, selfishness of a kind, on one side&mdash;duty and compassion on
+the other. She had no scruple about seeing just as much of her cousin's
+humour as his looks and manner could tell her, and she perceived that at
+the moment it was anything but a good or heroic one. She thought it
+possible that it would have been a relief to him to have struck, or
+shaken, or even kicked something or somebody; and yet she was not at all
+tempted to think the worse of him. She did not understand, of course,
+the late aggravations of his trouble; but she knew that he loved loyally
+and thought his love in danger, and she gave him plenty of sympathy,
+whatever that might be worth. She had obtained a considerable amount of
+influence over him, and used it, in general, for his good. At present he
+was in rather an unmanageable mood, but still she did not mean to let
+him escape her.</p>
+
+<p>"He looks dreadfully worried, poor boy!" she said to herself. "Being
+shut up here day after day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> must be bad for him. I shall <i>make</i> Sir John
+take him out to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>But when to-morrow came, and Sir John paid his daily visit to his wife,
+she had other things to think about. He found the servants lingering
+about the halls and staircases in silent excitement, and in the sick
+room a little group watching, as they stood round the bed, for the old
+man's final falling asleep.</p>
+
+<p>He had been conscious early in the morning, and spoken to both his
+grandchildren; but gradually, so very gradually that they could not say
+"he changed at such an hour," the heavy rigidity of death closed upon
+his already paralysed limbs, and his eyes grew dimmer. It was a very
+quiet peaceful closing of a long life, which, except that it had been
+sometimes hard and proud, had passed in usefulness and honour. And so,
+towards sunset, some one said, "He is gone," and laid a hand gently upon
+the stiffening eyelids.</p>
+
+<p>Sir John took his wife away to her room, and there she leaned her head
+against his shoulder and cried, not very bitterly, but with real
+affection for her grandfather. Maurice went away also, very grave, and
+thinking tenderly of the many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> kind words and deeds which had marked the
+months of his stay at Hunsdon. And yet within half an hour, Lady Dighton
+was talking to her husband quite calmly about some home affairs which
+interested him; and Maurice had begun to calculate how soon he could get
+away for that long-deferred six weeks' absence.</p>
+
+<p>But, of course, although they could not keep their thoughts prisoners,
+these mourners, who were genuine mourners after their different degrees,
+were constrained to observe the decorous, quiet, and interregnum of all
+ordinary occupation, which custom demands after a death. Lady Dighton
+returned home next day, hidden in her carriage, and went to shut herself
+up in her own house until the funeral. Maurice remained at Hunsdon,
+where he was now master, and spent his days in the library writing
+letters, or trying to make plans for his future, and it was then that
+the letter with his lost message to Mrs. Costello was sent off.</p>
+
+<p>Yet the space between Mr. Beresford's death and his funeral was to his
+heir a tedious and profitless blank. He had till now been kept here by
+living powers, gratitude and reverence; death came, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> handed his
+custody over to cold but tyrannous propriety. Now he rebelled with all
+his heart, and spent hours of each solitary day in pacing backwards and
+forwards the whole space of the great dim room which seemed a prison to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The day before the funeral broke this stillness, two or three gentlemen,
+distant relations or old friends of his grandfather, came to Hunsdon,
+and towards evening there arrived the family solicitor, Mr. Payne. At
+dinner that day Maurice had to take his new position as host. It was, as
+suited the circumstances, a grave quiet party, but still there was
+something about the manner of the guests, and even in the fact of their
+being <i>his</i> guests, which was unconsciously consoling to Maurice as
+being a guarantee of his freedom and independence. Next morning the
+house was all sombre bustle and preparation. Lady Dighton and her
+husband arrived. She, to have one last look at the dead, he to join
+Maurice in the office of mourner; and at twelve o'clock, the long
+procession wound slowly away through the park, and the great house stood
+emptied of the old life and ready for the commencement of the new one.</p>
+
+<p>The new one began, indeed, after those who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> followed Mr. Beresford
+to the grave had come back, and assembled in the great unused
+drawing-room to hear the will read. Lady Dighton shivered as she sat by
+one of the newly-lighted fires, and bending over to Maurice whispered to
+him, "For heaven's sake keep the house warmer than poor grandpapa used
+to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Used" already! The new life had begun.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing in the will but what was pretty generally known. Mr.
+Beresford had made no secret of his intentions even with regard to
+legacies. There was one to his granddaughter, with certain jewels and
+articles which had peculiar value for her; some to old friends, some to
+servants, and the whole remainder of his possessions real and personal
+to Maurice Leigh, on the one condition of his assuming the name and arms
+of Beresford.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very satisfactory will. Maurice, in his impatience, thought its
+chief virtue was that it contained nothing which could hinder him from
+starting at once for Canada. He told Mr. Payne that he wished to see him
+for a short time that evening; and after the other guests had gone to
+bed, the two sat down together by the library fire to settle, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> he
+fancied, whatever small arrangements must be made before his going.</p>
+
+<p>He soon found out his mistake. In the first place the solicitor, who had
+a powerful and hereditary interest in the affairs of Hunsdon, was
+shocked beyond expression at the idea of such a voyage being undertaken
+at all. Here, he would have said if he had spoken his thoughts, was a
+young man just come into a fine estate, a magnificent estate in fact,
+and one of the finest positions in the country, and the very first thing
+he thinks of, is to hurry off on a long sea-voyage to a half-barbarous
+country, without once stopping to consider that if he were to be
+drowned, or killed in a railway accident, or lost in the woods, the
+estate might fall into Chancery, or at the best go to a woman. Mr. Payne
+mentally trembled at such rashness, and he expressed enough of the
+horror he felt, to make Maurice aware that it really was a less simple
+matter than he had supposed, and that his new fortunes had their claims
+and drawbacks. Mr. Payne followed up his first blow with others. He
+immediately began to ask, "If you go, what do you wish done in such a
+case?" And the cases were so many that Maurice, in spite of the
+knowledge Mr. Beres<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>ford had made him acquire of his affairs, became
+really puzzled and harassed. Finally, he saw that a delay of a week
+would be inevitable; and the solicitor, having gained the day so far,
+relented, and allowed him to hope that after a week's application to
+business, he would be in a position to please himself.</p>
+
+<p>Next day Maurice was left alone at Hunsdon. He wrote his last letter to
+his father, and being determined to follow it himself so shortly, he
+sent no message to the Costellos. Then he set to work hard and steadily
+to clear the way for his departure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+
+<p>One day Maurice rode over to Dighton, and told his cousin he was come to
+say good-bye. She was not, of course, surprised to hear that he was
+really going, but she could not help expressing her wonder at the
+lightness with which he spoke of a journey of so many thousand miles.</p>
+
+<p>"You talk of going to Canada," she said, "just as I should talk of going
+to Paris&mdash;as if it were an affair of a few hours."</p>
+
+<p>"If it were six times as far," he answered, "it would make no difference
+to me, except that I should be more impatient to start; and yet most
+likely when I get there I shall find my journey useless."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Somehow or other there had come to be a tolerably clear understanding,
+on Lady Dighton's part, of the state of affairs between Maurice and
+Lucia&mdash;she knew that Maurice was intent upon finding his old playfellow,
+and winning her if possible at once. She naturally took the part of her
+new favourite; and believed that if Lucia were really what he described
+her, she would easily be persuaded to come to Hunsdon as its mistress;
+for, of course, she knew of no other barrier between the young people
+than that of Maurice's newly acquired importance. She thought Mrs.
+Costello had acted in a prudent and dignified manner in wishing to
+separate them; but she also thought, in rather a contradictory fashion,
+that since Maurice was intent upon the marriage, he ought to have his
+own way. So she was quite disposed to encourage him with auguries of
+success.</p>
+
+<p>"They are not likely to be in any hurry to begin a sea-voyage such
+weather as this," she said, shivering. "Two ladies, even if they are
+Canadians, can't make quite so light of it as you do."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you may be right," he answered; "but if I should not find them
+there, I shall bring my father to England and then go off in search of
+them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> A pretty prospect! They may lead me all over Europe before I find
+them."</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dighton laughed outright.</p>
+
+<p>"One would suppose that telegraphs and railways were not in existence,"
+she said, "and that you had to set out, like a knight-errant, with
+nothing but a horse and a sword to recover your runaway lady-love."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice felt slightly offended, but thought better of it, and laughed
+too.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall find them, no fear," he answered; "but when? and where?"</p>
+
+<p>Next morning he left Hunsdon, and went to London. The moment he was
+really moving, his spirits rose, and his temper, which had been
+considerably disturbed lately, recovered itself. He scarcely stopped at
+all, till he found himself that afternoon at the door of the solicitor's
+office, where he had some affairs to attend to.</p>
+
+<p>He got out of his cab and to the lawyer's door, as if everything
+depended on his own personal speed; but just as he went up the steps,
+the door opened, and a clerk appeared, showing a gentleman out. Even in
+the midst of Maurice's hurry, something familiar in the figure struck
+him; he looked again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>&mdash;it was Percy. They recognized each other; at the
+same moment, by a common impulse, they saluted each other ceremoniously
+and passed on their different ways.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice was expected, and he found Mr. Payne ready to receive him.
+Instead, however, of plunging at once into business as, a minute ago, he
+was prepared to do, he asked abruptly. "Is Mr. Percy a client of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly say that," the lawyer answered, surprised by the question.</p>
+
+<p>"I met him going out," Maurice went on.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Payne rubbed his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no secret," he said; "I may tell you, I suppose. He called about
+some points in a marriage settlement."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice felt his heart give a great leap.</p>
+
+<p>"Whose?" he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Payne again looked surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"His own, certainly. He is going to marry a daughter of the Earl of
+C&mdash;&mdash;, and I had the honour of being employed by the late Countess's
+family, from whom her ladyship derives what fortune she has. It is not
+very large," he added, dropping from his dignified tone into a more
+confidential one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Maurice was silent for a minute. His sensations were curious; divided
+between joy that Lucia was certainly free in <i>this</i> quarter, and a
+vehement desire to knock down, horsewhip, or otherwise ill-use the
+Honourable Edward Percy. Of course, this was a savage impulse, only
+worthy of a half-civilized backwoodsman, but happily he kept it down out
+of sight, and his companion filled up the pause.</p>
+
+<p>"The marriage is to take place in a week. The engagement has been
+hastily got up, they say, at last; though there was some talk of it a
+year ago. He does not seem particularly eager about it now."</p>
+
+<p>"What is he marrying her for?" was Maurice's next question, put with an
+utter disregard of all possibilities of sentiment in the matter&mdash;the man
+whom Lucia <i>might</i> have loved could not but be indifferent to all other
+women.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not a bad match," Mr. Payne answered, putting his head on one side
+as if to consider it critically. "Not much money, but a good
+connection&mdash;excellent."</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon they dismissed Percy and his affairs, and went to work.</p>
+
+<p>Late that night, for no reason but because he could not rest in London,
+Maurice started for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Liverpool. The steamer did not sail till afternoon,
+and there would have been plenty of time for him to go down in the
+morning; but he chose do otherwise, and consequently found himself in
+the streets of Liverpool in the miserable cold darkness of the winter
+dawn. Of course, there was nothing to be done then, but go to a hotel
+and get some breakfast and such warmth as was to be had. He felt cross
+and miserable, and half wished he had stayed in London.</p>
+
+<p>However the fire burnt up, breakfast came, and the dingy fog began to
+roll away a little from before the windows. He went out and walked about
+the city. He stared at the public buildings without seeing them; then at
+the shop-windows, till he suddenly found himself in front of a
+jeweller's, and it occurred to him that he would go in and buy a ring
+which would fit a slender finger in case of need. He went in
+accordingly, and after looking at some dozens, at last fixed upon one.
+He knew the exact size, for he had once taken a ring of Lucia's and
+tried to put it on his little finger; it would not go over the middle
+joint, but persisted in sticking fast just where the one he bought
+stopped. It was a magnificent little affair&mdash;almost enough to bribe a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
+girl to say "Yes" for the pleasure of wearing it, and Maurice
+congratulated himself on the happy inspiration. Being in a tempting
+shop, he also bethought himself of carrying out with him some trifling
+gifts for his old friends; and by the time he had finished his
+selection, he found to his great satisfaction that he might return to
+the hotel for his luggage, and go on board ship at once.</p>
+
+<p>The small steamer which was to carry the passengers out to the 'India'
+was already beginning to take on her load when Maurice arrived. The fog,
+which had partially cleared away in the town, lay heavy and brown over
+the river; the wet dirty deck, the piles of luggage, and groups of
+people were all muffled in it, and looked shapeless and miserable in the
+gloom. Hurry and apparent confusion were to be seen everywhere, but only
+for a short time. The loading was soon completed, and they moved away
+into the river.</p>
+
+<p>Then came another transfer&mdash;passengers, trunks, mail-bags all poured on
+to the 'India's' deck. Last farewells were said&mdash;friends parted, some
+for a few weeks, some for ever&mdash;the great paddles began to move, and the
+voyage was begun.</p>
+
+<p>As they went down the river, snow began to fall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> It filled the air and
+covered the deck with wet, slowly moving flakes, and the water which
+swallowed it up all round the ship looked duller and darker by contrast.
+Everybody went below, most people occupied themselves with arranging
+their possessions so as to be most comfortable during the voyage;
+Maurice, who had few possessions to arrange, took out that morning's
+<i>Times</i>, and sat down to read.</p>
+
+<p>The first two or three days of a voyage are generally nearly a blank to
+landsmen. Maurice was no exception to the rule. Even Lucia commanded
+only a moderate share of his thoughts till England and Ireland were
+fairly out of sight, and the 'India' making her steady course over the
+open ocean. Then he began to watch the weather as eagerly as if the
+ship's speed and safety had depended on his care. Every day he went, the
+moment the notice was put up, to see what progress they had made since
+the day before, and, according as their rate of movement was slower or
+faster, his day and night were serene or disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>The number of passengers was small. With what there were he soon formed
+the kind of acquaintance which people shut up together for a certain
+time generally make with each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> Everybody was eager for the
+conclusion of the voyage, for the weather, though on the whole fine, was
+intensely cold, and only the bravest or hardiest could venture to spend
+much time on deck. Down below every device for killing time was in
+requisition; but in spite of all, the question, "When shall we reach New
+York?" was discussed over and over again; and each indication of their
+voyage being by a few hours shorter than they had a right to expect, was
+hailed with the greatest delight.</p>
+
+<p>One day when they were really near the end of their voyage, Maurice and
+a fellow-passenger, a young man of about his own age, were walking
+briskly up and down the deck, trying to keep themselves warm, and
+talking of Canada, to which they were both bound. A sailor who had come
+for some purpose to the part of the deck where they were, suddenly
+called their attention to a curl of smoke far off on the horizon; it was
+something homeward bound, he said&mdash;he could not tell what, but they
+would most likely pass near each other.</p>
+
+<p>The two young men had been thinking of going down, but the idea of
+meeting a ship of any kind was sufficient excitement to keep them on
+deck. They continued their walk, stopping every now and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> then to watch
+the smoke as it grew more and more distinct. Presently the steamer
+itself became visible, and other persons began to assemble and guess
+what steamer it could be and how long it would be before they passed
+each other. Meanwhile the stranger came nearer and nearer; at last it
+could be recognized&mdash;the 'Atalanta,' from New York to Havre. Maurice
+borrowed a glass from one of the officers, and, going a little apart
+from the group on the deck of the 'India,' set himself to examine that
+of the 'Atalanta.' A sudden feeling of dismay had seized upon him. He
+had no more reason to suppose that Lucia was on board this steamer than
+he had to believe that she had sailed a week ago, or that she was still
+at Cacouna, and yet a horrible certainty took possession of him that, if
+he could only get on board that ship, so tantalizingly close at hand and
+yet so utterly inaccessible, he should find her there. He strained his
+eyes in the vain effort to distinguish her figure. He almost stamped
+with disappointment when he found that the distance was too great, or
+his glass not sufficiently powerful, for the forms he could just see, to
+be recognizable; and as the two steamers passed on, and the distance
+between them grew every moment greater, he hurried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> down to his cabin,
+not caring that any one should see how disturbed he was. He threw
+himself upon his little sofa, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if she suspected I was so near her. I wonder whether she
+looked for me as I looked for her. Not <i>as</i> I did, of course, for she is
+everything to me, and I am only an old friend to her; but yet I think
+she would have been sorry to miss me by so little.</p>
+
+<p>"What an idiot I am! when I have not even the smallest notion whether
+she could be on board or not. Very likely I shall find them still at the
+dear old Cottage."</p>
+
+<p>But after his soliloquy he shook his head in a disconsolate manner, and
+betook himself to a novel by way of distraction.</p>
+
+<p>Two more days and they reached New York. They got in early in the
+morning, and Maurice, the moment he found himself on shore, hurried to
+the railway station. On inquiry there, however, he found that to start
+immediately would be, in fact, rather to lose, than to gain time. A
+train starting that evening would be his speediest conveyance; and for
+that he resolved to wait. He then turned to a telegraph office,
+intending to send a message to his father, but on second thoughts
+abandoned that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> idea also, considering that Mr. Leigh already expected
+him, and that further warning could do no good and might do harm.</p>
+
+<p>He spent the day, he scarcely knew how. He dined somewhere, and read the
+newspapers. He found himself out in the middle of reading with the
+greatest appearance of interest an article copied from the <i>Times</i> which
+he had read in England weeks before. He looked perpetually at his watch,
+and when, at last, he found that his train would be due in half an hour,
+he started up in the greatest haste, and drove to the station as if he
+had not a moment to spare.</p>
+
+<p>What a Babel the car seemed when he did get into it! There were numbers
+of women and children, not a few babies. It was bitterly cold, and
+everybody was anxious to settle themselves at once for the night.
+Everybody was talking, sitting down, and getting up again, turning the
+seats backwards and forwards to suit their parties, or their fancies,
+soothing the shivering, crying children, or discussing the probability
+of being impeded by the snow. But when the train was fairly in motion,
+when the conductor had made his progress through the cars, when
+everybody had got their tickets, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> there was no more to be done, all
+subsided gradually into a dull sleepy quiet, broken occasionally by a
+child's cry, but still undisturbed enough to let those passengers who
+did not care to sleep, think in peace.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice thought, uselessly, but persistently. He thought of the past,
+when he had been quite happy, looking forward to a laborious life with
+Lucia to brighten it. He thought of the future which must now have one
+of two aspects&mdash;either cold, matter-of-fact and solitary, in the great
+empty house at Hunsdon without Lucia, or bright and perfect beyond even
+his former dreams, in that same great old house with her. He meant to
+win her, however, sooner or later, and the real trouble which he feared
+at present was nothing worse than delay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello and Lucia found their journey from Cacouna to New York a
+very melancholy one. They had gone through so much already, that change
+and travel had no power to stimulate their overstrained nerves to any
+further excitement; the time of reaction had begun, and a sort of
+languid indifference, which was in itself a misery, seemed to have taken
+possession of them. Even Lucia's spirits, generally strong both for
+enjoyment or for suffering, were completely subdued; she sat by the
+window of the car looking out at the wintry landscape all day long, yet
+saw nothing, or remembered nothing that she had seen. Once or twice she
+thought, "Perhaps in a few days more, Maurice will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> passing over this
+very line; he will be disappointed when he reaches home and finds that
+we are gone;" but all her meditations were dreamy and unreal&mdash;her mind
+acted mechanically. A kind of moral catalepsy benumbed her. Afterwards
+when she remembered this time, she wondered at herself; she could not
+comprehend the absence of sensation with which she had left the dear
+home and all the familiar objects of her whole life, the incapability of
+feeling either keen sorrow at the parting, or hope in the unknown
+future. The days they spent in hurrying hour by hour further away from
+Canada, always remained in her recollection little more than a blank,
+and she scarcely seemed to recover herself until Mr. Strafford touched
+her gently on the shoulder, late in the evening and said,</p>
+
+<p>"New York at last, Lucia."</p>
+
+<p>She got up then, in a hurried, confused way, and looked at her mother
+helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello, though to some degree she had shared Lucia's stunned
+feeling during their journey, had watched her child with considerable
+anxiety, and was glad of any change in her manner. She hastened to leave
+the train, thinking that the few hours' rest they would have before
+going on board<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> the steamer would be the best remedy for this strange
+torpor. They found, however, when they reached the Hotel and went to
+bed, that weary as they were, they could not sleep. The unaccustomed
+noise of the city&mdash;the mere sensation of being in a strange place, kept
+them both waking, and they were glad to get up early, and go down to the
+vast empty drawing-room where Mr. Stafford could join them for the last
+time, and talk of the subjects which were near the hearts of all three.
+And yet, after all, they did not talk much. Those last hours which are
+so precious, and in which we seem to have so much to say, are often
+silent ones.</p>
+
+<p>The great house, like a city in itself, with its wide passages and
+halls, and groups of strangers passing constantly to and fro, had
+something dismal and desert like about it. Even the drawing-room was so
+large and so destitute of anything like a snug corner where people could
+be comfortable, that there was little chance of forgetting that they
+were mere wayfarers. When the gong had sounded, and everybody assembled
+for breakfast, the vast dining-room, coldly magnificent in white and
+gold, and all astir with white jacketed waiters, seemed stranger and
+more unhomelike still. Everything was novel,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> but for once novelty only
+wearied instead of charming.</p>
+
+<p>By noon they were on board the steamer. Mr. Strafford went on board with
+them and stayed till the last minute. But that soon came. The final
+good-bye was said; the last link to Canada and Canadian life was broken.
+They stood on deck and strained their eyes to watch the fast
+disappearing figure till it was gone, and they felt themselves alone.
+Then the vessel began to move out of the harbour, and night seemed to
+come on all at once.</p>
+
+<p>They went down together to their cabin, and seated themselves side by
+side in a desolate companionship. After a minute Lucia put her arms
+tightly round her mother, and laying her head upon her shoulder, cried,
+not passionately, but with a complete abandonment of all self-restraint.
+Mrs. Costello did not try to check those natural and restoring tears.
+She soothed her child by fond motherly touches, kissed her cheek or
+smoothed her hair, but said not a word until the whole dull weight that
+had been pressing on her had melted away. There was something strangely
+forlorn in their circumstances which both felt, and neither liked to
+speak of to the other. Leaving behind all the friends, all the
+associations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> of so many years, they were going alone&mdash;a feeble and
+perhaps dying woman, and a young girl&mdash;into a strange world, where every
+face would be new, and even their own language would grow unfamiliar to
+their ears. Even the hope which had brightened this prospect to Lucia's
+eyes, looked very dim, now that the time for proving it was at hand; and
+of all others, the person who occupied her tenderest if not her most
+frequent thoughts was the one who best deserved that she should think of
+him&mdash;Maurice Leigh.</p>
+
+<p>Two days of their voyage passed without events. They began to feel
+accustomed to their ship-life, and to make some little acquaintance with
+other passengers. In spite of the cold, Lucia spent a good many hours on
+deck. She used to go with Mrs. Costello every morning for a few quick
+turns up and down, and then, when her mother was tired, she would wrap
+herself up in the warmest cloaks and shawls that she could find, and
+take her seat in a quiet corner, where she could lose sight of all that
+went on about her and, with her face turned towards Canada, see nothing
+but the boundless sea and sky. On the third day she was sitting in this
+manner. There were a good many persons on deck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> but she was left
+tolerably undisturbed. Occasionally a lady would stop and speak to
+her&mdash;the men, who were not altogether blind to her beauty, would have
+liked perhaps to do the same, if her preoccupied air had not made a kind
+of barrier about her, too great to be broken through without more
+warrant than a two days' chance association; but she was thinking or
+dreaming, and never troubled herself about them.</p>
+
+<p>The day was very bright, and there was a ceaseless pleasure in watching
+the ripples of the sea as they rose into the cold silvery sunlight and
+then passed on into the shadow of the ship; or in tracing far away, the
+broad even track marked by edges of tiny bubbles, where the vessel's
+course had been. Gradually she became aware through her abstraction of a
+greater stir and buzz of conversation on the deck behind her; she
+turned, and seeing everybody looking in one direction, rose and looked
+too. A lady standing beside her said,</p>
+
+<p>"It is the Cunard steamer for New York. We think there are some friends
+of ours on board, but I am afraid we shall not pass near enough to find
+out."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how I wish we could!" Lucia answered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> now thoroughly roused, for
+the idea that Maurice also might be on board suddenly flashed into her
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>She leaned forward over the railing of the deck, and caught sight of the
+'India' coming quickly in the opposite direction, and could even
+distinguish the black mass of her passengers assembled like those of the
+'Atalanta' to watch the passing vessel. But that was all. Telescopes and
+even opera-glasses were being handed from one to another, but she was
+too shy to ask for the loan of one, though she longed for it, just for a
+moment. Certainly it would have been useless. At that very time Maurice,
+standing on the 'India's' deck, was straining his eyes to catch but one
+glimpse of her, and all in vain. Fate had decided that they were to pass
+each other unseen.</p>
+
+<p>But this little incident made Lucia sadder and more dreamy&mdash;more unlike
+herself&mdash;than before. The voyage was utterly monotonous. In spite of the
+season, the weather was calm and generally fine; and they made good
+progress. The days when an unbroken expanse of sea lay round them were
+not many, and on the second Sunday afternoon land was already in sight.
+That day was unusually mild.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> Mrs. Costello and Lucia came up together
+about two o'clock, and, after walking up and down for some time, they
+sat down to watch the distant misty line which they might have thought a
+cloud on the horizon, but which was gradually growing nearer and more
+distinct.</p>
+
+<p>While they sat, a single bird came flying from the land. Its wings
+gleamed like silver in the sunlight, and as it came, flying now higher,
+now lower, but always towards the ship, they saw that it was no
+sea-bird, but a white pigeon&mdash;pure white, without spot or tinge of
+colour, like the glittering snow of Canada. It came quite near&mdash;it flew
+slowly and gracefully round the ship&mdash;two or three times, it circled
+round and round, and at last alighted on the rigging. There it rested,
+till, as the sunlight quite faded away and the distant line of land
+disappeared, it took flight again and vanished in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the strong elasticity of youth and hope in Lucia's nature had
+only waited for some chance touch to set it free, and make it spring up
+vigorously after its repression. At any rate she found a fanciful omen
+in the visit of the snow-white bird; and began to believe that in the
+new country and the new life, there might be as much that was good and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
+happy as in the old one. The last hours, full of excitement and
+impatience as the voyage drew to a close, were not unpleasant ones. Very
+early one morning a great commotion and a babel of unusual sounds on
+deck awoke the travellers, and the stewardess going from room to room
+brought the welcome news,</p>
+
+<p>"We are at Havre."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia was up in a moment. The stillness of the vessel, after its
+perpetual motion, gave her an odd sensation, not unlike what she had
+felt when it first began to move; but she was quickly dressed and on
+deck. There were a good many people there, and the water all round was
+alive with boats and shipping of every description, but Lucia's eyes
+naturally turned from the more familiar objects to the unfamiliar and
+welcome sight of land.</p>
+
+<p>A strange land, truly! The solid quays, the masses of building, older
+than anything (except forest-trees) which she had ever seen, the quaint
+dresses of the peasants already moving about in the early morning, all
+struck her with pleased and vivid interest. For the wider features of
+the scene she had at first no thought. Nature is everywhere the same,
+through all her changes. To those who love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> her she is never wholly
+unrecognizable, and when we meet her in company with new phases of human
+life, we are apt to treat her as the older friend, and let her wait
+until we have greeted the stranger. At least, Lucia did so. She had
+indeed only time for a hurried survey, for their packing had to be
+completed by her hands; and she knew that the arrival of the ship would
+soon be known, and that if Mr. Wynter had kept his promise of meeting
+them, he might appear at any moment. She went down, therefore, and found
+Mrs. Costello dressing with hurried and trembling fingers, too much
+agitated by the prospect of meeting her cousin, after so long and
+strange a separation, to be capable of attending to anything.</p>
+
+<p>All was done, however, before they were interrupted. They wrapped
+themselves up warmly, for the morning was intensely cold through all its
+brightness, and went up on deck together. Lucia found a seat in a
+sheltered place for Mrs. Costello, and stood near her watching the
+constant stream of coming and going between the ship and the shore. They
+had nothing to do for the present but wait, and when they had satisfied
+themselves that, as yet, there was no sign of Mr. Wynter's arrival,
+they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> had plenty of time to grow better acquainted with the view around
+them.</p>
+
+<p>The long low point of land beside which they lay; the town in front,
+with a flood of cold sunlight resting on its low round tower, and the
+white sugar-loaf shaped monument, which was once the sailor's
+landmark&mdash;the lofty chapel piously dedicated to Notre Dame de Bons
+Secours now superseding it&mdash;the broad mouth of the Seine and the Norman
+shore, bending away to the right&mdash;all these photographed themselves on
+Lucia's memory as the first-seen features of that new world where her
+life was henceforth to be passed.</p>
+
+<p>At last, when nearly all their fellow-passengers had bidden them
+good-bye and left the ship, they saw a gentleman coming on board whom
+they both felt by some instinct to be Mr. Wynter. He was a portly,
+white-bearded man, as strange to Mrs. Costello as to Lucia, for the last
+twenty years had totally changed him from the aspect she remembered and
+had described to her daughter. Perhaps his nature as well as his looks
+had grown more genial; at any rate, he had a warm and affectionate
+greeting for the strangers, and if he had any painful or embarrassing
+recollection such as agitated his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> cousin, he knew how perfectly to
+conceal them. He had arrived the day before, but on arriving had heard
+that the 'Atalanta' was not expected for twenty-four hours, so that the
+news of her being in port came to him quite unexpectedly. He explained
+all this as they stood on deck, and then hurried to see their luggage
+brought up, and to transfer them to the carriage he had brought from his
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia felt herself happily released from her cares. She had no
+inclination to like, or depend upon, her future guardian; but without
+thinking about it, she allowed him to take the management of their
+affairs, and to fall into the same place as Mr. Strafford had occupied
+during their American journey.</p>
+
+<p>Only there was a difference; she was awake now, and hopeful, naturally
+pleased with all that was new and curious, and only kept from thorough
+light-heartedness by her mother's feeble and fatigued condition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello seemed to grow stronger from the moment of their landing.
+Mr. Wynter decided without any hesitation that they should remain at
+Havre, at least until the next day. In the evening, therefore, they were
+sitting quietly together when the important question of a future
+residence for the mother and daughter came to be discussed.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like Lucia to see something of Paris," Mrs. Costello said,
+"and to do that we should be obliged to stay a considerable time; for,
+as you perceive, I am not strong enough to do much sight-seeing at
+present."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," Mr. Wynter answered, nodding gravely. "We might get you a nice
+little apartment there,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> and settle you for the winter; that would be
+the best plan. I suppose you don't mind cold?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends entirely on the sort of cold. Yes; I think we should
+settle in Paris for a time, and then move into the country. Only I have
+a great fancy not to be more than a day's journey from England."</p>
+
+<p>"In which I sympathize with you. It will be very much more satisfactory
+to me to know that you are within a reasonable distance of us."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia sat and listened very contentedly to the talk of the elder people.
+To her, whose only experience of relationship, beyond her mother, was
+painful and mortifying, there was something she had not anticipated of
+novelty and comfort in this new state of affairs. Her cousin's tone of
+kinsmanship and friendliness was so genuine and unforced that she and
+her mother both accepted it naturally, and forgot for the moment that,
+to a little-minded man, such friendliness might have been difficult and
+perhaps impossible.</p>
+
+<p>They decided to start for Paris next morning, Mr. Wynter saying that he
+had arranged for a week's absence from England, and therefore would have
+plenty of time to see them fixed in their new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> residence before he left.
+Then the conversation glided to other subjects, and Lucia losing her
+interest in it, began to wonder where Percy was&mdash;whether they were again
+on the same continent&mdash;whether he would hear, through the Bellairs, of
+their movements&mdash;whether he thought of her. And from that point she went
+off in some indescribable maze of dreams, recollections, and wishes,
+through which there came, as if from a distance, the sound of voices
+talking about England&mdash;about Chester&mdash;about her mother's old home and
+old friends&mdash;and about her young cousins, the Wynters, and a visit they
+were to make to France when spring should have set in.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of all, the sound of a great clock striking broke the
+stillness of the snowy streets, and, just after, a party of men passed,
+singing a clamorous French song, and stamping an accompaniment with
+their heavy shoes. Lucia smiled as she listened, and then sighed. In
+truth this was a new life, into which nothing of the old one could come
+except love and memory.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, they could not sleep that night. They missed the motion of
+the ship, which had lately lulled them; they could not shake off the
+impression<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> of strangeness and feel sufficiently at home to forget
+themselves; and to Lucia, used to the healthy sleep of eighteen, this
+was a much more serious matter than to one who had kept as many vigils
+as Mrs. Costello. They appeared, therefore, in the morning to have
+changed characters; Lucia was pale and tired, Mrs. Costello seemed
+bright and refreshed.</p>
+
+<p>The rapid and uneventful journey to Paris ended, for the present, their
+wanderings. When, on the following day, they started out in search of
+apartments, Mrs. Costello looked round her in astonishment. More than
+twenty years ago she had really known something of the city; now there
+only seemed to be, here and there, an old landmark left to prove that it
+was not altogether a new and strange place. Lucia was delighted with
+everything. She no sooner saw the long line of the Champs Elys&eacute;es than
+she declared that there, and nowhere else, their rooms must be found.</p>
+
+<p>"In the city, mamma," she said, "you could not breathe; and as for
+sleeping, you know what it was last night; and if we went further out,
+we should see nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello was too pleased to see her daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> looking and speaking
+with something of her old liveliness to be inclined to oppose her
+fancies, only she said with a smile,</p>
+
+<p>"The Champs Elys&eacute;es is expensive&mdash;remember that, Lucia&mdash;and I am going
+to make you keeper of the purse."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, mamma, if it is too dear, of course there is no more to be
+said; but you don't object to our trying to get something here, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Decidedly not. Let us try by all means."</p>
+
+<p>They found apartments readily enough; but to find any suited to their
+means was, as Mrs. Costello anticipated, anything but an easy matter.
+Lucia began, before the morning was over, to realize the fact that their
+&pound;400 a year, which had been a perfectly comfortable income in Canada,
+would require very careful management to afford them at all a suitable
+living in Paris.</p>
+
+<p>"It is only for a little while, though," she consoled herself. "In
+summer we shall be able to go into the country and find something much
+cheaper."</p>
+
+<p>So they continued their search, and at last found just what they wanted;
+though to do so, they had to mount so many stairs that Lucia was afraid
+her mother would be exhausted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I do not think this will do, mamma," she said. "I should never dare to
+ask you to go out, because when you came in tired, you would have all
+this fatigue."</p>
+
+<p>But the rooms were comfortable and airy, and the difficulties of living
+"au cinqui&egrave;me" were considered on the whole to be surmountable; so the
+affair was settled. Then came the minor considerations of a new
+housekeeping, and Margery was heartily regretted; though what the good
+woman would have been able to do where she could neither understand nor
+make herself understood, would not have been easy to say. Even Mrs.
+Costello, who, in her youth, had had considerable practice in speaking
+French, found herself now and then at a loss; and as for Lucia, having
+only a sort of school-girl knowledge of the language, she instantly
+found her comprehension swept away in the flood of words poured upon her
+by every person she ventured to speak to. "Never mind, I shall soon
+learn," she said in the most valiant manner; but, alas! for the present,
+she was almost helpless, and Mrs. Costello had to arrange, bargain, and
+interpret for both.</p>
+
+<p>They wound up their day's business by a little shopping, which, like
+everything else, was new to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> Lucia. The splendid shops, lighted up in
+the early dusk of the winter afternoon, were as different as anything
+could be from the stores at Cacouna. A sudden desire to be possessed of
+a purse full of money, which she might empty in these enchanted palaces,
+was the immediate and natural effect of the occasion on the mind of such
+an unsophisticated visitor. She became, indeed, so completely lost in
+admiration, that her mother made her small purchases without being able
+to obtain anything but the vaguest and most unsatisfactory opinions on
+such trifling affairs.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wynter derived considerable amusement from watching his young cousin
+and future ward. He told his wife afterwards that he had begun the day's
+work entirely from a sense of duty towards poor Mary; but that for once
+he had found that kind of thing almost as amusing as women seemed to do.
+The young girl with her half-Indian nature, and wholly Canadian&mdash;ultra
+Canadian&mdash;bringing up, was so bright, simple, and na&iuml;ve, that she was
+worth watching. Her wonderful beauty, and the unconscious grace of her
+father's people, kept her from ever appearing countrified or awkward;
+her simplicity was that of a lovely child, and was in no way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> discordant
+with the higher nature she had shown in the bitter troubles and
+perplexities of the past year. She felt safe now and hopeful,
+inconceivably, absurdly hopeful&mdash;yet there was this difference between
+the happiness of long ago and the happiness to-day, that then she
+<i>could</i> not believe in sorrow, and now she only <i>would</i> not.</p>
+
+<p>They went back to their hotel for another night. Next day they moved to
+the apartment they had taken, and submitted themselves to the
+ministrations of Claudine, their French version of Margery. Submitted is
+exactly the right word for Lucia's behaviour, at any rate. Claudine
+appeared to her to have an even greater than common facility of speech;
+it only needed a single hesitating phrase to open the floodgates, and
+let out a torrent. Accordingly, until her stock of available French
+should increase, Lucia decided to take everything with the utmost
+possible quietness. She would devote herself to her mother, and to
+becoming a little acquainted with Paris, and give Claudine the fewest
+possible occasions for eloquence.</p>
+
+<p>Before the two days which Mr. Wynter spent with them in their new
+dwelling were over, they had begun to feel tolerably settled. In fact,
+Lucia's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> spirits, raised by excitement, were beginning to droop a
+little, and her thoughts to make more and more frequent excursions in
+search of the friends from whom she was so widely separated. She thought
+most, it is true, of Percy, and her fancies about him were
+rose-coloured; but she thought, also, a little sadly, of the dear old
+home, and the Bellairs and Bella, and even Magdalen Scott, who had been
+an old acquaintance, if never a very dear friend. She had many wondering
+thoughts, too, about Maurice. Was he still in England? or was he in
+Canada? was he at sea? would he come over to see them? would he even
+know where to find them if he came? Of these last subjects she spoke
+freely to her mother, only she kept utter silence as to Percy. So it
+happened that Mrs. Costello, knowing her own estimate of her daughter's
+lover, and strangely forgetting not only how different Lucia's had been,
+but that in a nature essentially faithful, love increases instead of
+dying, through time and absence, comforted herself, and believed that
+all was now settled for the best. Neither Percy nor Maurice, it was
+evident, would ever be Lucia's husband. Nothing could be more
+satisfactory, therefore, than that she should have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> become indifferent
+to the one, and have only a sisterly affection for the other. And yet,
+with unconscious perversity, she was not satisfied. She allowed to
+herself that Maurice's conduct had been reasonable enough. He had
+accepted the common belief that Christian was the murderer of Dr.
+Morton; and the conclusion which naturally followed, that Christian's
+daughter, beautiful and good though she might be, was not a fit mistress
+for Hunsdon; to have done otherwise, would have been Quixotic. Yet in
+her heart she was bitterly disappointed. If he had but loved Lucia well
+enough to dare to take her with all her inherited shame, how richly he
+would have been rewarded when the cloud cleared away! Where would he
+find another like her? And now, since Maurice could change, who might
+ever be trusted?</p>
+
+<p>No doubt these meditations were romantic. If Mrs. Costello had been the
+mother of half-a-dozen children&mdash;a woman living in the midst of a busy,
+lively household, where motherly cares and castle-buildings had to be
+shared among three or four daughters&mdash;she would not have had time to
+occupy herself so intensely with the affairs of any one. As it was,
+however, this one girl was her life of life;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> she threw into her
+interests the hopes of youth and the experience of middle age. As Lucia
+grew up, she had watched with anxiety, with hope, and with fear, for the
+coming of that inevitable time when, either for good or evil, she must
+love. It had been her fancy that, if Lucia loved Maurice, all would be
+well; if she loved any other, all would be ill. But time had passed on,
+and brought change; not one thing had happened according to her
+anticipations. And she tried to believe that she was glad that it was
+so, while a shadow of dissatisfaction lay at the bottom of her heart.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Wynter left Paris, he did so with the comfortable conviction
+that his cousins were happily settled; and with the persuasion that, as
+they both appeared to have a fair share of common sense, they would soon
+forget their past troubles, and be just like other people.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like Mary's state of health at present," he said to his wife;
+"and, if I am not mistaken, she thinks even worse of it than I do; but
+still, rest of mind and body may do a great deal; and now she is really
+a widow, and quite safe from any further annoyances, I dare say she will
+come round."</p>
+
+<p>"And her daughter?" asked Mrs. Wynter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> rather anxiously. "Do you think
+she would get on with the girls?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, I'm sure, my dear. She is not much like them, certainly,
+or, indeed, like any English girl. She is wonderfully pretty, but quite
+Indian in looks."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child! what a pity!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure about that. She seems a good girl, and Mary says is the
+greatest comfort to her, so I suppose she is English at heart; and as
+for her black eyes, there is something very attractive about them."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wynter sighed again. Lucia's beauty, of which it cannot be said
+that Mr. Wynter's account was overdrawn, lost all its advantages in her
+eyes by being of an Indian type. She could never quite persuade herself
+that her husband had not been walking about the streets of Paris with a
+handsome young squaw in skins and porcupine quills.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Poor Maurice! He came up the river early one glorious morning, and
+standing on the steamboat's deck watched for the first glimpse of the
+Cottage. His heart was beating so that he could scarcely see, but he
+knew just where to look, and what to look for. At this time of year
+there was no hope of seeing the fair figure watching on the verandah as
+it had done when he went away, but the curl of smoke from the chimney
+would satisfy him and prove that his darling was still in her old home.
+He watched eagerly, breathlessly. Everything was so bright, that his
+spirits had risen, and he felt almost certain he was in time. There, the
+last bend of the river was turned, and now the trees that grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> about
+the Cottage and his father's house were visible&mdash;now the Cottage itself.
+But suddenly his heart seemed to grow still&mdash;there was the house, there
+was the garden where he and Lucia had worked, there was the slope where
+they had walked together that last evening&mdash;but all was desolate. No
+smoke rose from the chimney; and on the verandah, and on every ledge of
+the windows snow lay deep and undisturbed; the path to the river was
+choked and hidden, and by the little gate the drift had piled itself up
+in a high smooth mound. Desolate!</p>
+
+<p>When the boat stopped at the wharf, there were happily few people about.
+Maurice left his portmanteau, and taking the least public way hurried
+off homewards. It was too late&mdash;that was his only thought; to see his
+father, to know when they went, and if possible whither&mdash;his only
+desire. He strode along the road, seeing and thinking of nothing but
+Lucia. There was one chance, they might not yet have left Canada. But
+then that ship, and the curious sense of Lucia's nearness which he had
+felt when they passed it; she must have been on board! He felt as if he
+should go mad when he came to his father's gate and saw all looking just
+as usual, quite calm and peaceful under the broad wintry sunshine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> He
+had only just sense enough at the very last minute to remember that his
+father was an invalid to whom the joy of his coming might be a dangerous
+shock. As he thought of this he turned round the corner of the house,
+and in a moment walked into the kitchen where Mrs. George, the old
+housekeeper, was busy washing up the breakfast-things.</p>
+
+<p>"Law, Mr. Maurice!" cried Mrs. George, and dropped her teacup and her
+cloth together&mdash;happily both on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Coming into the familiar room, and seeing the familiar face, brought the
+young man a little to himself. He held his impatience in check while he
+received Mrs. George's welcome, answered her questions, and asked some
+in return. Then he sent her in to tell his father of his arrival, and
+began to walk up and down the kitchen while she was away.</p>
+
+<p>In a minute or two she came out of the sitting-room, and he went in. Mr.
+Leigh had had his own troubled thoughts lately, but he forgot them all
+when he saw his son. Just at first there was only the sudden agitating
+joy of the meeting&mdash;the happiness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> of seeing Maurice so well&mdash;so
+thoroughly himself and yet improved&mdash;of seeing him at home again; but
+then came trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"So they are gone?" he said almost interrupting the first greetings, and
+the old man instantly knew that all his fancies had been a mistake, and
+that Maurice had come back to find Lucia.</p>
+
+<p>And they were gone; and he himself had been a coward and a traitor, and
+had distrusted his own son and let them go away distrusting him! He saw
+it now too late. A painful embarrassment seized him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said hesitatingly. "They went a week ago."</p>
+
+<p>"By New York?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"In the 'Atalanta' for Havre?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. How did you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know. I only guessed. Where are they gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know. Mrs. Costello said their plans were so uncertain that
+she could not tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet I should have thought, sir, that so old a friend as you might have
+had a right to be told what her plans were?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She told no one&mdash;except that they would not stay long in any one place
+at present."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice walked to the window and sighed impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"A pleasant prospect!" he said, "They may be at the other end of Europe
+before I can get back."</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a minute looking out, and tapping impatiently with his
+fingers on the window-sill, while Mr. Leigh watched him, troubled, and a
+little inclined to be angry. When he turned round again he had made up
+his mind that it was no use to get out of temper, a pretty sure proof
+that he was so already, and that the first thing to do was to find out
+exactly what his father and everybody else knew about the Costellos. He
+sat down, accordingly, with a sort of desperate impatient patience, and
+began a cross-examination.</p>
+
+<p>"Did they leave no message for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing in particular. All sorts of kind remembrances; Lucia said you
+would be sure to meet some day."</p>
+
+<p>"Did they never speak of seeing you in England?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never. On the contrary, my impression is that they had no intention of
+going to England."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That is strange; yet if they had they would scarcely have gone by
+Havre, unless to avoid all chance of meeting me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should they do that?"</p>
+
+<p>Maurice said nothing, he only changed his position and looked at his
+father. Mr. Leigh had asked the question suddenly, with the first dawn
+of a new idea in his mind, but at his son's silent answer he shrank back
+in his chair breathless with dismay. So after all he <i>had</i> been a
+traitor! With his mistaken fancies about change and absence, he had been
+doing all he could to destroy the very scheme that was dearest to him,
+and which he now saw was dearest to Maurice also. And he knew now that
+there had been something in Mrs. Costello's manner lately less friendly
+to Maurice than was usual. He had done mischief which might be
+irreparable. Guilty and miserable, he naturally began to defend himself.</p>
+
+<p>"If you had only told me!" he said feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"I had nothing to tell, sir. I went away, as you remember, almost at a
+moment's notice, to please you and my grandfather. I could not speak to
+Lucia then, because&mdash;for various reasons; but I know that Mrs. Costello
+was my friend. After<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>wards she wrote to me when poor Morton was killed,
+and told me some story I could not very well make out, but which of
+course made no difference to me. Then came another letter with all the
+truth about her marriage, which she seemed to think conclusive, and
+which wound up by saying that she meant to take Lucia away&mdash;hide her
+from me in fact. My grandfather was very ill then, and I had no time to
+write to her, but my message just after his death was plain enough, I
+thought&mdash;what did she say to it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Leigh dropped his eyes slowly from his son's face, and put his hand
+confusedly to his head.</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?" he said. "I can't remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Only two or three words. Just that all she could say did not alter the
+case, or alter me."</p>
+
+<p>This was rather a free rendering of the original message, but it was
+near enough and significant enough for Mr. Leigh to be quite sure he had
+never heard such words before. They would have given him just that key
+to his son's heart which he had longed for.</p>
+
+<p>"You must be mistaken," he answered. "I never received such a message as
+that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It was a postscript. I had meant to write to her and had not time."</p>
+
+<p>"You must have forgotten. You meant to send it."</p>
+
+<p>"I sent it, I am certain. Have you my letters?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. They are in that drawer."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice opened the drawer where all his letters had been lovingly
+arranged in order. He remembered the look of the one he wanted and
+picked it out instantly.</p>
+
+<p>"There it is, sir," he said, and held out to his father those two
+important lines, still unread. Mr. Leigh looked at the paper and then at
+Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw it," he replied. "How could I have missed it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Heaven knows! It is plain enough. And my note, which came in the letter
+before that; it was never answered. <i>That</i> may have miscarried too?"</p>
+
+<p>"There was no note, Maurice, my dear boy; there was no note. I wondered
+there was not."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet I wrote one."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice was looking at his father in grievous perplexity and vexation,
+when he suddenly became aware of the nervous tremor the old man was in.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+He went up to him hastily, with a quick impulse of shame and tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, father," he said. "I forgot myself and you. Only you cannot
+know the miserable anxiety I have been in lately. Now tell me whether it
+is true that you are stronger than when I left?"</p>
+
+<p>He sat down by the easy-chair and tried to talk to his father as if Mrs.
+Costello and Lucia had no existence; but Mr. Leigh, though he outwardly
+took courage to enjoy all the gladness of their union, was troubled at
+heart. It was a grievous disappointment, this coming home of which so
+much had been said and thought. No one could have guessed that the young
+man had been out into the world to seek his fortune, and had come back
+laden with gold, or that the older had just won back again the very
+light of his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Anxious as Maurice had been to avoid notice at the moment of his arrival
+at Cacouna, he had been seen and recognized on the wharf, and the news
+of his coming carried to Mr. Bellairs before he had been an hour at
+home. So it happened that while the father and son sat together in the
+afternoon, and were already discussing the first arrangements for their
+return to England, a sleigh drove briskly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> up to the door, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Bellairs came in full of welcomes and congratulations.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew we might come to-day," Mrs. Bellairs said, still holding her
+favourite's hand and scanning his face with her bright eyes. "We shall
+not stay long, but it is pleasant to see you home again, Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say too many kind things, Mrs. Bellairs," he answered, "or you
+will make me want to stay when I ought to be going."</p>
+
+<p>"Going! You are surely not talking of that yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I am. We hope to be away in a fortnight."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! if you <i>hope</i> it, there is no more to be said."</p>
+
+<p>"If you knew how I have hoped to be here, and how disappointed I have
+been to-day, you would not be so hard on me."</p>
+
+<p>They had both sat down now and were a little apart, for the moment, from
+the others. Mrs. Bellairs was surprised at Maurice's words, though she
+understood instantly what he meant. He had never before given her a
+single hint in words of his love for Lucia, though she had been
+perfectly aware of it. She guessed now that his grandfather's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> death had
+changed his wishes into intentions, and that since he was in a position
+to offer Lucia a share of his own good fortune, he no longer cared to
+make any secret of his feelings towards her.</p>
+
+<p>"You did not expect that our friends would be gone," she asked in a tone
+which expressed the sympathy she felt and yet could not be taken as
+inquisitive. As for Maurice, he wanted to speak out his trouble to
+somebody, and was glad of this result of his little impetuous speech.</p>
+
+<p>"I was altogether uncertain," he answered; "I wanted to start from
+England a week sooner, and if I had done so, it seems, I should have
+found them here; but I was hindered, and for some reason or other, they
+chose to keep me in the dark as to their intentions."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia often talked of you and of her regret at going away just when you
+were expected."</p>
+
+<p>"She did? Do you know where they are?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; and that is the strangest thing. I believe their plans were not
+quite fixed; but still Mrs. Costello was not a woman to start away into
+the world without plans of some kind, and yet no one in Cacouna knows
+more than that they sailed from New York to Havre."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is incomprehensible, except on one supposition. Did you ever hear
+Mrs. Costello speak of my return?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not particularly. Don't be offended, Maurice, either with her or with
+me, but I did fancy once or twice that she wished to be away before you
+came. Only, mind, that is simply my fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt you fancied right; but I have a thousand questions to
+ask you. Tell me first&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice," interrupted Mr. Bellairs from the other side of the room,
+"what is this your father says about going away immediately? You can't
+be in earnest in such a scheme!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I am," Maurice answered, getting up and standing with his
+arm resting on the mantelpiece, "at least, if my father can stand the
+journey."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Leigh, full of self-reproach and secret disturbance, vowed that the
+journey would do him good; that he was eager to see the old country once
+again. He had resolved, as the penance for his blunder, that he would
+not be the means of hindering his boy one day in his quest for Lucia.
+Nevertheless, the discussion grew warm, for Mr. Bellairs having vainly
+protested against a winter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> voyage for the Costellos, had his arguments
+all ready and in order, and had no scruple in bringing them to bear upon
+Maurice. Of course, they were thrown away, just so many wasted words;
+the angry impatient longing that was in the young man's heart would have
+been strong enough to overthrow all the arguments in the universe. Only
+one reason would have been strong enough to keep him&mdash;his father's
+unfitness for travel; and that could not fairly be urged, for Mr. Leigh
+was actually in better health than he had been for years, and would not
+himself listen to a word on the subject.</p>
+
+<p>Just before the visitors left, Maurice found an opportunity of asking
+Mrs. Bellairs one of his "thousand questions."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Strafford, of Moose Island, was Mrs. Costello's great adviser, does
+not he know?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I wrote to him, and got his answer this morning. He only knew they
+would probably stay some time in France."</p>
+
+<p>She was just going out to get into the sleigh as she spoke. Suddenly
+with her foot on the step she stopped,</p>
+
+<p>"Stay! I have the address of a friend, a cousin,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> I think, of Mrs.
+Costello's in England. Mr. Strafford sent it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, thanks. I shall see you in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice went back joyfully into the house. Here was a clue. Now, oh, to
+be off and able to make use of it!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Before going to bed on the very night of his arrival, Maurice found the
+list of steamers, and with his father's approbation fixed upon one which
+was advertised to sail in a few days over a fortnight from that time. It
+happened to be a vessel the comfortable accommodation of which had been
+specially praised by some experienced travellers, his fellow-passengers
+in the 'India,' and the advantages of going by it being quite evident,
+served to satisfy what small scruples of conscience Mr. Bellairs had
+been able to awaken. He wrote, therefore, to secure berths and put his
+letter ready to be taken into Cacouna next morning, when he should go to
+pay his promised visit to Mrs. Bellairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was early when Maurice awoke; he did so with a sense of having much
+to do, but the aspect of his own old room, so strange now and yet so
+familiar, kept him dreaming for a few minutes before that important
+day's work could be begun. How bare and angular it seemed, how shabby
+and poor the furniture! It never had been anything but a boy's room of
+the simplest sort, and yet it had many happy and some few sad
+associations, such as no other room could ever have for him. He recalled
+the long ago days when his brother and he had shared it together, and
+their mother used to come in softly at night to look that her two sons
+were safe and well,&mdash;the later years, when mother and brother were both
+gone, and he himself sat there alone reading or writing far into the
+night. He thought of the many summer mornings when he had opened his
+window to watch for the movement of Lucia's curtain, or for the glimpse
+of her girlish figure moving about under the light shadows of the
+acacias in the Cottage garden.</p>
+
+<p>But when he came to that point in his meditation, he sprang up
+impatiently, and the uncomfortable irritating feeling that he had been
+unfairly dealt with, tricked, in fact, began to take possession of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> him
+again. However, it only acted as a stimulant. He began to feel that he
+had entered into the lists with Mrs. Costello, and, regarding her as a
+faithless ally, was not a little disposed to do battle with her <i>&agrave;
+l'outrance</i>, and carry off Lucia for revenge as well as for love.</p>
+
+<p>Directly after breakfast he had out the little red sleigh in which last
+winter he had so often driven his old playfellow to and from Cacouna,
+and started alone. He had many visits of friendship or business to pay,
+but he could not resist going first to Mrs. Bellairs.</p>
+
+<p>After all, now that the first sharpness of his disappointment was over,
+it was pleasant to be at home and to meet friendly faces at every turn.
+He had to stop again and again to exchange greetings with people on the
+road, and even sometimes to receive congratulations on being a "rich man
+now," "a lucky fellow"&mdash;congratulations which were both spoken and
+listened to as much as if the lands of Hunsdon were a fairy penny, in
+the virtues of which neither speaker nor hearer had any very serious
+belief. In fact, there was something odd and incredible in the idea that
+this was no longer plain Maurice Leigh, the most popular and one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> the
+poorest members of this small Backwoods world, but Maurice Leigh
+Beresford, of Hunsdon, an English country gentleman rich enough, if he
+chose, to buy up the whole settlement.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice went on his way, however, little troubled by his new dignity,
+and found Mrs. Bellairs and Bella expecting him. They had guessed that
+he would not delay coming for the promised address, and Mr. Strafford's
+note containing it lay ready on the table; but when he came into the
+room their visitor did actually for the moment forget his errand in
+seeing the sombre black-robed figure which had taken the place of the
+gay Bella Latour. He had gone away just before her wedding, he had left
+her happy, bright, mischievous,&mdash;a girl whom sorrow had never touched,
+who seemed incapable of understanding what trouble meant; he came back,
+full of his own perplexities and disappointments, and found her one so
+seized upon by grief that it had grown into her nature, and clothed and
+crowned her with its sad pre-eminence. There was no ostentation of
+mourning about the young widow, it is true, but none the less Maurice in
+looking at her first forgot himself utterly, and then remembered his
+impatience and ill-humour with more shame than was at all agreeable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>To Bella also the meeting was a painful one. Of all her friends, Maurice
+was the only one who was associated with her girlish happiness, and
+quite dissociated from her married life and its tragic ending. The sight
+of him, therefore, renewed for the moment the recollections which she
+had taught herself to keep as much as possible for her solitary hours,
+and almost disturbed the calm she had forced upon herself in the
+presence of others.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bellairs, however, used to her sister's calamity and ignorant of
+Maurice's feelings, did not long delay referring to the Costellos.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is Mr. Strafford's note," she said. "I wrote and begged of him to
+tell me by what means a letter would be likely to reach them, and this
+is his answer."</p>
+
+<p>It was only a few lines, saying that Mrs. Costello had told him
+expressly that she should remain for some time in France, and would
+write to her Canadian friends as soon as she had any settled home, but
+that in the meantime he believed her movements would be known by her
+relative, Mr. Wynter, whose address he enclosed.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice, whose anxiety was revived by the sight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> of this missive,
+examined it with as much care as if he expected to extract more
+information from it than in reality the writer possessed, but he was
+obliged to content himself with copying the address and giving the
+warmest thanks to Mrs. Bellairs for the help he thus gained.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," she asked smiling, "that I may entrust you with a message
+for Lucia?"</p>
+
+<p>Maurice looked rather foolish. He certainly did mean to follow up the
+clue in person, but he had not said so, and he fancied Mrs. Bellairs was
+inclined to laugh at him for his romance.</p>
+
+<p>"I will carry it if you do," he answered, "but I do not promise when it
+will be delivered."</p>
+
+<p>"You are really going to England at the time you spoke of last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And from England to France is not much of a journey?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; and I have not seen Paris yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! well, you will go over and meet with them, and rejoice poor Lucia's
+heart with the sight of a home face."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I? Will they be homesick, do you think?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>They?</i> I don't know. <i>She</i> will, I think&mdash;do not you, Bella?"</p>
+
+<p>"At all events, she went away with her mind full of the idea that she
+would be sure to see you before long."</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps this speech was not absolutely true, but Maurice liked Bella
+better than ever as she said it. He got up soon after, and went his way
+with a lighter heart about those various calls which must be made, and
+which were pleasant enough now that he saw his way tolerably clear
+before him with regard to that other and always most important piece of
+business.</p>
+
+<p>When he got home he set himself to consider whether it were better to
+write boldly to Mr. Wynter and ask for news of the travellers, or
+whether to wait, and after taking his father to Hunsdon run over himself
+to Chester, and make his request in person. There was little to be
+gained by writing, for Mr. Wynter's answer, even if it were
+satisfactory, would have to be sent to Hunsdon, and there wait his
+arrival, while Mrs. Costello would have plenty of time to hear of his
+application, and to baffle him if she wished to do so. He quickly
+decided, therefore, to do nothing until he could go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> himself to Chester,
+and from thence direct to the place, wherever that might be, where Lucia
+was to be found.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Leigh's day, meanwhile, had been far less comfortable than
+Maurice's. He had made a pretence of looking over papers, and arranging
+various small affairs in readiness for their voyage, but his mind all
+the while had been occupied with two or three questions. Had Maurice
+really sent to him a note for Mrs. Costello which by any carelessness of
+his had been lost? Had the change he remembered in her manner been
+connected with the loss? Had Lucia cared for Maurice? Had either mother
+or daughter thought so ill of Maurice as he, his own father, had done?
+The poor old man tormented himself, much as a woman might have done,
+with these speculations, but he dared not breathe a word of them. He
+even went so far in his self-accusations and self-disgust as to imagine
+that if he had been his son's faithful helper, he might have prevented
+that flight from the Cottage which had caused so much trouble and
+vexation.</p>
+
+<p>Still, when Maurice came home full of energy and hope, and anxious to
+atone for his unreason<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>ableness of the previous day, the aspect of
+affairs brightened a good deal, and the evening passed happily with
+both.</p>
+
+<p>But after that first day a certain amount of disturbance began to be
+felt in the household. People came and went perpetually. There was so
+much to be done, and so little time to do it in; and there was not only
+the actual business of moving, but innumerable claims from old friends
+were made upon Maurice, all of which had to be satisfied one way or
+other.</p>
+
+<p>And the days flew by so quickly. Maurice congratulated himself again and
+again on having provided so good a reason for leaving Cacouna at a
+certain time. "Our berths are taken," was a conclusive answer to all
+proposals of delay; and if it had not been for that, he often thought it
+would have been impossible to have held to his purpose. But as it was,
+all engagements, whatever they might be, had to be pressed into the
+short space of a fortnight, and under the double impulse of Maurice's
+own energies, and of that irrevocable <i>must</i>, things went on fast and
+prosperously.</p>
+
+<p>It was well for Mr. Leigh that these last weeks in his old home were so
+full of hurry and excite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>ment, and that he was supported by the presence
+of his son, and by the thought that he was fulfilling what would have
+been the desire of his much-beloved and long-lost wife; for the pain of
+parting for ever from the places where so many years of happiness and of
+sorrow had been spent&mdash;from the birthplace of his children, and the
+graves which were sacred to his heart, grew at times very bitter, and
+needed all his absorbing love for his last remaining child, to make it
+endurable. It is quite true, however, that at other times, the idea of
+meeting his old neighbour of the Cottage in that far-away and
+half-forgotten England, and of seeing Maurice and Lucia once more
+together, as he could not help but hope they would be, cheered him into
+positive hopefulness and eagerness to be gone.</p>
+
+<p>Two days before their actual leaving, it was necessary for the household
+to be broken up. Maurice wished to go for the interval to a hotel.
+Cacouna had two,&mdash;long gaunt wooden buildings supposed to be possessed
+of "every accommodation,"&mdash;but so many voices were instantly raised
+against this plan, that it had to be given up, and Mrs. Bellairs, with
+great rejoicing, carried off both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> father and son from half-a-dozen
+other claimants. Literally, she only carried off Mr. Leigh, for Maurice,
+who had entirely resumed his Canadian habits, was still deep in the
+business of packing and of seeing to the arrangements for the morrow's
+sale; but he had promised to have his work finished before evening, and
+to join them in good time in Cacouna.</p>
+
+<p>As Mrs. Bellairs drove Mr. Leigh home in her own sleigh, flourishing the
+whip harmlessly over Bob's ears and making him clash all his silver
+bells at once with the tossing of his head, she could not help saying,</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think now Maurice is such a rich man he ought to marry soon?"</p>
+
+<p>Her companion looked at her doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he is thinking of it," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"When he is married," she went on with a little laugh, "he has promised
+to invite us to England."</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Leigh did not smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will come soon, then," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You think there is a chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think it will not be his fault if there is not."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And I think he is not likely to find the lady very obstinate."</p>
+
+<p>"What lady? <i>Any</i> one or one in particular?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of one, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia Costello?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"You think she would marry him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Yes, I think so."</p>
+
+<p>"And her mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I don't know; Mrs. Costello has a will of her own."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the old days there had been a sort of antagonism between Bella Latour
+and Maurice Leigh. They had necessarily seen a great deal of each other,
+and liked each other after a certain fashion; but Maurice had thought
+Bella too flighty, and inclined to fastness; and Bella had been
+half-seriously, half-playfully disposed to resent his judgment of her.
+But now, either because of the complete change in her character which
+the last few months had wrought, or from some other cause, Mrs. Morton
+and Maurice fell into a kind of confidential intimacy quite new to their
+intercourse. It was only for two days, certainly, but during those two
+days, and in spite of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> Maurice's occupations, they had time for several
+long and very interesting conversations.</p>
+
+<p>In the first of these, which had begun upon some indifferent subject,
+Bella surprised Maurice by alluding, quite calmly and simply, to the
+imprisonment of the unfortunate Indian, Lucia's father. He had naturally
+supposed that a subject so closely connected with her own misfortunes
+would have been too deeply painful to be a permitted one, and had,
+therefore, with care, avoided all allusion to it. In this, however, he
+did not do her full justice. The truth was, that in her deep interest in
+the Costellos, she had quietly forced herself to think and speak of the
+whole train of events which affected them, without dwelling on its
+connection with her own story. She never spoke of her husband&mdash;her
+self-command was not yet strong enough for that&mdash;nor of Clarkson; but of
+Christian, as the victim of a false accusation, she talked to Maurice
+without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>Up to that time there had been no very vivid idea in his mind either of
+Christian himself, or of the way in which he had spent the months of his
+imprisonment, and finally died. Indeed, in the constant change and
+current of nearer interests, he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> thought little, after the first,
+about this unknown father of his beloved. He had considered the matter
+until it led him just so far as to make up his mind, quite easily and
+without evidence, that Clarkson was probably the murderer, and that
+Christian, whether innocent or guilty, was not to be allowed to separate
+him from Lucia, and then, after that point, he ceased to think of
+Christian at all. But now, he received from Bella the little details,
+such as no letters could have told him, of the weeks since her husband's
+death&mdash;chiefly of the later ones, and there were many reasons why these
+details had a charm for him which made him want to hear more, the more
+he heard. In the first place she spoke constantly of Lucia, and it
+scarcely needed a lover's fancy to enable him to perceive how in this
+time of trial she had been loving, helpful, wise even, beyond what
+seemed to belong to the sweet but wilful girl of his recollection. He
+listened with new thoughts of her, and a love which had more of respect,
+as Bella described those bitter days of which Lucia had told her later,
+when neither mother nor daughter dared to believe in the innocence of
+the accused man, and when, the one for love, the other for obedience,
+they kept their secret safe in their trem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>bling hearts, and tried to go
+in and out before the world as if they had no secret to keep.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia used to come to me every day. I was ill, and her visits were my
+great pleasure; she came and talked or read to me, with her mind full
+all the while of that horrible idea."</p>
+
+<p>"She knew that it was her father?" asked Maurice. "I wonder Mrs.
+Costello, after having kept the truth from Lucia so long, should have
+told her all just then."</p>
+
+<p>Bella looked at him inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"She had told her before anything of this happened," she answered. "I
+believe Lucia herself was the first to suspect that the prisoner was her
+father."</p>
+
+<p>"And how did they find out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Strafford went and visited him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Elise did for a few minutes just before his death; but I have heard
+so much about him that I can scarcely persuade myself I never did see
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"They were both with him at last?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Poor Lucia never saw him till then."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about it, please."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She obeyed, and told all that had happened both within her own knowledge
+and at the jail, on the night of Christian's death and the day preceding
+it. Her calmness was a little shaken when she had to refer to Clarkson's
+confession, though she did so very slightly, but she recovered herself
+and went on with her story, simply repeating for the most part what
+Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs had told her at the time. When she had finished,
+Maurice remained silent. He had shaded his eyes with his hand, and when,
+after a minute's pause, he looked up again to ask her another question,
+she saw that he had been deeply touched by the picture she had drawn.</p>
+
+<p>But Bella was really doing her friends a double service by thus talking
+to Maurice. It was not only that Lucia grew if possible dearer than ever
+to him from these conversations, but there was something&mdash;though Maurice
+himself would not have admitted it&mdash;in making Lucia's father an object
+of interest and sympathy, instead of leaving him a kind of dark but
+inevitable blot on the history of the future bride.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening before Mr. Leigh and his son were to start for England,
+as many as possible of their old friends were gathered together at Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+Bellairs' for a farewell meeting. Every one there had known the
+Costellos; every one remembered how Maurice and Lucia had been
+perpetually associated together at all Cacouna parties; every one,
+therefore, naturally thought of Lucia, and she was more frequently
+spoken of than she had been at all since she left. It seemed also to be
+taken for granted that Maurice would see her somewhere before long, and
+he was entrusted with innumerable messages both to her and her mother.</p>
+
+<p>"But," he remonstrated, "you forget that I am going to England, and that
+they are in France&mdash;at least, that it is supposed so."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes," he was answered, "but you will be sure to see them; don't
+forget the message when you do."</p>
+
+<p>At last he gave up making any objection, and determined to believe what
+everybody said. It was a pleasant augury, at any rate, and he was glad
+to accept it for a true one.</p>
+
+<p>When all the visitors were gone, and the household had retired for the
+night, Mr. Bellairs and his former pupil sat together over the
+drawing-room fire for one last chat. Their talk wandered over all sorts
+of subjects&mdash;small incidents of law business<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>&mdash;the prospects of some
+Cacouna men who had gone to British Columbia&mdash;the voyage to England&mdash;the
+position of Hunsdon&mdash;and Maurice had been persuading his host to come
+over next summer for a holiday, when by some chance Percy was alluded
+to.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not seen or heard anything of him, I suppose?" Mr. Bellairs
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, I have," Maurice answered, slowly stirring the poker about
+in the ashes as he spoke. "I met him only the other day in London."</p>
+
+<p>"Met him? Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"On a doorstep&mdash;&mdash;," and he proceeded to describe their meeting.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you have heard of his marriage by this time."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I heard from Edward Graham, an old friend of mine, that he was
+going to be married, but that is the latest news I have of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, Payne may have made a mistake. He told me it was coming off
+in a day or two."</p>
+
+<p>"As likely as not. He might not think it worth while to send us any
+notice."</p>
+
+<p>"The puppy! I beg your pardon, I forgot he was your cousin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You need not apologise on that score. There is not much love lost
+between us; and as for Elise, I never knew her inclined to be
+inhospitable to anybody but him."</p>
+
+<p>"Was she to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"She was heartily glad to see the last of him, and so I suspect were
+some other people."</p>
+
+<p>"What people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Costello for one. He was more at the Cottage than she seemed to
+like."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice hesitated, but could not resist asking a question.</p>
+
+<p>"Was he as much there afterwards as he was before the time I left?"</p>
+
+<p>"More, I think. Look here, Maurice; Elise first put it into my head that
+he was running after Lucia, but I saw it plainly enough myself
+afterwards, and I know you saw it too. I think we are old enough friends
+for me to speak to you on such a subject. Well, my belief is, that
+before Percy went away, he proposed to Lucia."</p>
+
+<p>"Proposed? Impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about that. He was really in love with her in his
+fashion&mdash;which is not yours, or mine."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Must have refused him, for he went away in a kind of amazed ruefulness,
+which even you would have pitied."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice looked the reverse of pitiful for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"But that is all supposition," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Granted. But a supposition founded on pretty close observation. Only
+mind, I do not say Lucia might not be a little sorry herself. You were
+away, and a girl does not lose a handsome fellow like Percy, who has
+been following her about everywhere as if he were her pet dog, without
+feeling the loss more or less. At least that is my idea."</p>
+
+<p>"He has soon consoled himself."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, everybody can't step into possession of &pound;10,000 a year
+all at once. Most people have to do something for a living, and the only
+thing Percy could do was to marry."</p>
+
+<p>They said good-night soon after this, and went upstairs, Maurice
+blessing the Fates which seemed determined to give him all possible hope
+and encouragement. Only he could not quite understand this idea of Mr.
+Bellairs'. He could imagine anybody, even Percy, being so far carried
+away by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> Lucia's beauty as to forget prudence for the moment; but he
+could not help but feel that it was improbable that Percy would have
+gone so far as to propose to Lucia unless he were sure she would say
+yes. Why, then, had she not said yes?</p>
+
+<p>Next morning the last farewells had to be said&mdash;the last look taken at
+the old home. Night found father and son far on their way to New York,
+and Maurice's eagerness all renewed by this fresh start upon his quest.</p>
+
+<p>There was little of novelty in the journey or the voyage. There were the
+usual incidents of winter travelling&mdash;the hot, stifling car&mdash;the snowy
+country stretching out mile after mile from morning till night&mdash;the
+hotels, which seemed strangely comfortless for an invalid&mdash;and then the
+great city with its noise and bustle, and the steamer where they had
+nothing to do but to wait.</p>
+
+<p>And, at last, there was England. There was the Mersey and Liverpool,
+looking, as they came in, much as if the accumulated dirt of the three
+kingdoms had been bestowed there, but brightening up into a different
+aspect when they had fairly landed and left the docks behind them. For
+it was a lovely March day&mdash;only the second or third of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> month it is
+true,&mdash;and winter, which they had left in full possession in Canada,
+seemed to be over here, and the warm sunny air so invigorated Mr. Leigh
+that he would not hear Maurice's proposal to rest until next day, but
+insisted on setting out at once for Norfolk.</p>
+
+<p>As they drove to the railway they passed the jeweller's shop where
+Maurice had bought Lucia's ring. Alas! it still lay in his pocket, where
+he had carried it ever since that day&mdash;when would it find its
+destination? He was not going to be disheartened now, however. He was
+glad of the little disturbance to his thoughts of having to take tickets
+and see his father comfortably placed, and at the very last moment he
+was just able to seize upon a <i>Times</i>, and set himself to reading it as
+if he had never been out of England.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Maurice had telegraphed from Liverpool, and the old-fashioned carriage
+from Hunsdon met them at the last railway station. It was near sunset,
+and under a clear sky the soft rich green of the grass gleamed out with
+the brightness of spring. They soon turned into the park, and the house
+itself began to be visible through the budding, but still leafless,
+trees. Both father and son were silent. To the one, every foot of the
+road they traversed was haunted by the memories of thirty years ago; to
+the other, this coming home was a step towards the fulfilment of his
+hopes. They followed their own meditations, glad or sorrowful, until the
+last curve was turned, and they stopped before the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> great white pillars
+of the portico. Then Maurice remembered that this was his first coming
+home as master, and felt a momentary shyness take possession of him
+before his own new importance. He had been able during his absence to
+keep Hunsdon so much in the background, and to be so thoroughly the
+natural, portionless, Maurice Leigh. He jumped out of the carriage,
+however, and was too much occupied in helping his father, to think, for
+the next few minutes, of his own sensations at all. Then he discovered
+what he had not before thought about&mdash;that there were still two or three
+of the old servants who remembered his mother and her marriage, and who
+were eager to be recognised by "the Captain."</p>
+
+<p>And so the coming home was got over, and Mr. Leigh was fairly settled in
+the house from which so long ago he had stolen away his wife. After he
+had once taken possession of his rooms&mdash;the very ones which had been
+hers,&mdash;he seemed to think no more about Canada, but to be quite content
+with the new link to the past which supplied the place of his accustomed
+associations. And, perhaps, he felt the change all the less because of
+that inclination to return to the recollections of youth rather than of
+middle age, which seems so universal with the old.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Maurice sent over a messenger to Dighton to announce their arrival, and
+to tell his cousin that he intended leaving home again after one day's
+interval. That one day was fully occupied, but, as he had half expected,
+in the afternoon Lady Dighton came over.</p>
+
+<p>She knew already of his disappointment, and had sympathised with it. She
+came now with the kind intention of establishing such friendly relations
+with Mr. Leigh as would make Maurice more comfortable in leaving his
+father alone. She even proposed to carry the old man off to Dighton, but
+that was decided against.</p>
+
+<p>"And you really start to-morrow?" she asked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>"Early to-morrow morning. I cannot imagine what the railway-makers have
+been thinking about; it will take me the whole day to get to Chester."</p>
+
+<p>"How is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! there are about a dozen changes of line, and, of course, an hour to
+wait each time."</p>
+
+<p>"Cut off the exaggeration, and it is provoking enough. Is it in Chester
+this gentleman lives?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, three or four miles away, I fancy. I shall have to inquire when I
+get there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And after you find him what will you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I get their address, I shall go straight from Mr. Wynter to them,
+wherever they are."</p>
+
+<p>"At St. Petersburg, perhaps, or Constantinople?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Louisa, please. I thought you had some pity for one's
+perplexities."</p>
+
+<p>"So I have. And I believe, myself, that they are in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish they may be&mdash;that is, if I get any satisfaction from my
+inquiries. Otherwise, Paris is not exactly a place where one would
+choose to set about seeking for a lost friend, especially with about
+half-a-dozen sentences of available French."</p>
+
+<p>"Never fear. But if you should not find them, I would not mind going
+over for a week or two to help you; I should be of some use as an
+interpreter."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come? Not for that; but if I do find them, I should so like to
+introduce Lucia to you."</p>
+
+<p>"To tell the truth, I am rather afraid of this paragon of yours; and you
+will be bringing her to see me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I am making too sure of that without your telling me so.
+After all, I may have my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> search for nothing. I do wish very much you
+would come over."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, at Easter we will see. Perhaps I may coax Sir John over for a
+week or two."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. I shall depend on that."</p>
+
+<p>"But remember you must send me word how you fare."</p>
+
+<p>"I will write the moment I have anything to tell."</p>
+
+<p>"Impress upon your father, Maurice, that we wish to do all we can for
+his comfort. I wish he would have come to us."</p>
+
+<p>"I think he is better here. Everything here reminds him of my mother,
+and he feels at home. But I shall feel that I leave him in your hands,
+my kind cousin."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice bade his father good-bye that night, and early next morning he
+started on his journey to Chester. What a journey it was! His account to
+Lady Dighton had been exaggerated certainly, but was not without
+foundation. Again and again he found himself left behind, chafing and
+restless, by some train which had carried him for, perhaps, an hour, and
+obliged to amuse himself as best he could until a fresh one came, in
+which he would travel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> another equally short stage. It was a windy,
+rainy day, with gleams of sunshine, but more of cloud and shower, and
+grew more and more stormy as it drew towards night. Before he reached
+Chester the wind had risen to a storm, and sheets of rain were being
+dashed fiercely against the carriage windows. At last they did roll into
+the station with as much noise and importance as if delay had been a
+thing undreamt of, on <i>that</i> line at any rate; and Maurice hurried off
+to make his inquiries, and find a carriage to take him to Mr. Wynter's.</p>
+
+<p>So far, certainly, he prospered. He found that his destination was
+between four and five miles from the city, but it was perfectly well
+known, and a carriage was soon ready to take him on.</p>
+
+<p>The road seemed very long, as an unknown road travelled in darkness and
+in haste generally does. The wind howled, and rattled the carriage
+windows, the rain still dashed against the glass with every gust, and at
+times the horses seemed scarcely able to keep on through the storm. At
+last, however, they came to a stop, and Maurice, looking out, found
+himself close to a lodge, from the window of which a bright gleam of
+light shone out across the rainy darkness. In a minute a second light
+came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> from the opening door, the great gates rolled back, and the
+carriage passed on into the grounds. There were large trees on both
+sides of the drive, just faintly visible as they swayed backwards and
+forwards, and then came an open space and the house itself. There was a
+cheerful brightness there, showing a wide old-fashioned porch, and,
+within, a large hall where a lamp was burning. Maurice hurried in to the
+porch, and had waited but a minute when a servant in a plain,
+sober-coloured livery came leisurely across the hall and opened the
+glass door, through which the visitor had been trying to get his first
+idea of the place and its inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p>"Was Mr. Wynter in?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he expected?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-night, certainly&mdash;perhaps not to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Wynter?" That was a guess. Maurice had never troubled himself till
+then to think whether there <i>was</i> a Mrs. Wynter.</p>
+
+<p>"She was at home, but engaged."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice hesitated a moment. "I must see her," he thought to himself, and
+took heart again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I have made a long journey," he said, "to see Mr. Wynter; will you give
+my card to your mistress, and beg of her to see me for a moment?"</p>
+
+<p>The man took the card and led the visitor into a small room at one side
+of the hall, where books and work were lying about as if it had been
+occupied earlier in the day, but which was empty now. Then he shut the
+door and carried the card into the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wynter had friends staying with her. There was a widow and her son
+and daughter, and one or two young people besides, as well as all the
+younger members of the Wynter family. The two elder ladies were having a
+little comfortable chat over their work, and the others were gathered
+round the piano, when Maurice's arrival was heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Who can it be?" Mrs. Wynter said doubtfully. "It is not possible Mr.
+Wynter can be back to-night."</p>
+
+<p>The eldest daughter came to the back of her mother's chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, mamma," she said; "or shall I look if it is papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed, my dear. It can't be. Walter!" for one of the boys was
+cautiously unlatching the door, "come away, I beg."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile all listened, so very extraordinary did it seem that anybody
+should come unannounced, so late, and on such a night.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the door opened, and everybody's eyes, as well as ears, were
+in requisition, though there was only a card to exercise them on.</p>
+
+<p>"A gentleman, ma'am, who says he has come a long way to see master, and
+would you speak to him for a moment?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wynter took up the card, and her daughter read it over her
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Leigh Beresford?" she said. "I do not know the name at all. You said
+Mr. Wynter was from home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman seemed very much put out, and then said could
+he see you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he must;" and Mrs. Wynter began, rather reluctantly, to put
+aside her embroidery, and draw up her lace shawl around her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"But what a pretty name! Mamma, who can he be?"</p>
+
+<p>"And, mamma, if he is nice bring him in and let us all see him."</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't; we don't want any strangers. What <i>do</i> people come after
+dinner for?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wynter paid no attention to her daughters, but having made up her
+mind to it, walked composedly out of the room, and into the one where
+Maurice waited. She came in, a fair motherly woman, in satin and lace,
+with a certain soft <i>comfortableness</i> about her aspect which seemed an
+odd contrast to his impatience. He took pains to speak without hurry or
+excitement, but did not, perhaps, altogether succeed.</p>
+
+<p>"I must beg you to pardon me this intrusion," he said. "I hoped to have
+found Mr. Wynter at home, and I wished to ask him a question which I
+have no doubt you can answer equally well if you will be so good."</p>
+
+<p>"If it relates to business," Mrs. Wynter began, but Maurice interrupted,</p>
+
+<p>"It is only about an address. I have just arrived in England from
+Canada; I am an old friend and neighbour of Mrs. Costello, and have
+something of importance to communicate to her, will you tell me where
+she is?"</p>
+
+<p>Poor Maurice! he had been getting his little speech ready beforehand,
+and had made up his mind to speak quite coolly, but somehow the last few
+words seemed very much in earnest, and struck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> Mrs. Wynter as being so.
+She looked more closely at her guest.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Costello is in France. Did I understand that you had known her in
+Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have known her all my life. I spent the last summer and autumn in
+England, and did not return to Canada until after she had left, but she
+knew that I should have occasion to see her, or write to her as soon as
+I could reach home again, and I am anxious to do so now."</p>
+
+<p>"You are aware that Mrs. Costello wishes to live very quietly? Her
+health is much broken."</p>
+
+<p>"I know all. Mrs. Costello has herself told me. Pray trust me&mdash;you may,
+indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"You will excuse my hesitation if you do know all; but, certainly, I
+have no authority to refuse their address."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and opened a desk which stood on a table in the room. She had
+considered the matter while they were talking, and come to the
+conclusion that the address ought to be given, while at the same time
+she wished to know more of the person to whom she gave it.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish Mr. Wynter had been at home," she said after a minute's pause,
+during which she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> turning over the papers in the desk, and Maurice
+was watching her eagerly. "He would have been able to tell you something
+of your friends, for he only returned home a week or two ago from
+meeting them."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they in Paris?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Are you returning to Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Perhaps, Mrs. Wynter, you would like to have my address? My coming
+to you as I have done, without credentials of any sort, must certainly
+seem strange."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you; you will understand that I feel in some little difficulty."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand perfectly." He wrote his name and address in full and gave
+it to her. "Mrs. Costello was a dear friend of my mother's," he said;
+"she has always treated me almost as a son, and I cannot help hoping
+that what I have to say to her may be welcome news."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you expect to see her, then, or only to write?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am on my way to Paris. I hope to see them."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the address. You have had a long journey, the servant told me."</p>
+
+<p>"From Hunsdon. And the journey out of Nor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>folk into Cheshire is a
+tiresome one. Thank you very much. Can I take any message to Mrs.
+Costello?"</p>
+
+<p>"None, thank you, except our kindest remembrances. But you will let me
+offer you something&mdash;at least a glass of wine?"</p>
+
+<p>But Maurice had now got all he wanted. He just glanced at the precious
+paper, put it away safely, declined Mrs. Wynter's offers, and was out of
+the house and on his way back to Chester in a very short space of time.</p>
+
+<p>"What an odd thing!" Mrs. Wynter said as she settled herself comfortably
+in the easy-chair again.</p>
+
+<p>"Who was he, mamma? What did he want?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was a Canadian friend of your cousin Mary's wanting her address."</p>
+
+<p>"What! come over from Canada on purpose?"</p>
+
+<p>"It almost seemed like it, though that could not be, I suppose, for here
+is his address&mdash;'Maurice Leigh Beresford, Hunsdon, Norfolk.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Beresford?" said the widow, "Why the Beresfords of Hunsdon are great
+people&mdash;very grand people, indeed. I used to know something of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he look like a grand person, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"He seemed a gentleman, certainly. I know no more."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Was he young or old?"</p>
+
+<p>"Young."</p>
+
+<p>"Handsome or ugly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Need he be either?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Which, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not ugly, decidedly. Tall, and rather dark, with a very frank,
+honest-looking face."</p>
+
+<p>"Young, handsome, tall, dark, and honest-looking! Mamma, he's a hero of
+romance, especially coming as he did, in the rain and the night."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be silly, Tiny. Mamma, is not my cousin Lucia a great beauty?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello and Lucia had grown, to some degree, accustomed to their
+Paris life. Its novelty had at first prevented them from feeling its
+loneliness; but as time went on, there began to be something dreary in
+the absence of every friendly face, every familiar voice. Mrs. Costello
+would not even write to Canada until she could feel tolerably sure that
+her letters would only arrive after the Leighs had left; she had taken
+pains to find out all Mr. Leigh could tell her of Maurice's intentions,
+and she guessed that, for one reason or another, he would not be likely
+to stay longer in Cacouna than was necessary. Even when she wrote to
+Mrs. Bellairs she did not give her own address, but that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> of the banker
+through whom her money was transmitted.</p>
+
+<p>She felt sore and angry whenever she thought of Maurice. She had
+perceived Mr. Leigh's embarrassed manner, and guessed, by a
+half-conscious reasoning of her own, that he believed his son changed
+towards them, but she did not guess on how very small a foundation this
+belief rested. She had thought it right to give up, on Lucia's behalf,
+any claim she had on the young man's fidelity; but to find him so very
+ready to accept the sacrifice, was quite another thing. It was so unlike
+Maurice, she said to herself; and then it occurred to her that Mr.
+Beresford might have planned some marriage for his grandson as a
+condition of his inheritance. Certainly she had heard no hint of such a
+thing, and up to a short time ago she was pretty sure Maurice himself
+could have had no idea of it; yet it was perfectly possible, and Mr.
+Leigh might have been warned to say nothing to her about it. All these
+thoughts, though Maurice might, if he had known, have been inclined to
+resent them, had the effect of keeping him constantly in Mrs. Costello's
+mind; and she puzzled over his conduct until she came to have her wishes
+pretty equally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> divided; on one hand, desiring to keep to her plan of a
+total separation between Lucia and him; and on the other, longing to see
+or hear of him, in order to know whether her former or her present
+opinion of him was the correct one.</p>
+
+<p>It happened, therefore, that Maurice was much more frequently spoken of
+between the mother and daughter than should have been the case if Mrs.
+Costello had carried out her theories. If Lucia had been ever so little
+"in love" with him when she reached Paris, she would have had plenty of
+opportunity for increasing her fancy by dwelling on the object of it;
+but Mrs. Costello's wishes were forwarded by the very last means she
+would have chosen as her auxiliary. Lucia talked of Maurice because she
+thought of him as a friend, or rather as a dear brother. She said
+nothing of Percy, but she dreamt of him, and longed inexpressibly to
+hear even his name mentioned. She had heard nothing of him, except some
+slight casual mention, since he went away. He had said then that,
+perhaps in a year, she might change her mind; and she had said to
+herself, "Surely he will not forget me in a year." And now spring was
+coming round again, and all that had separated them was removed; there
+was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> not even the obstacle of distance; no Atlantic rolled between them;
+nay, they might be even in the same city. But how would he know? She
+could do nothing. She had done all in her power to make their parting
+final. How could she undo it now? She did not dare even to speak to her
+mother of him, for she knew that on that one subject alone there had
+never been sympathy between them. And she said to herself, too, deep in
+her own heart, that it must be a great love indeed which would be
+willing to take her&mdash;a poor, simple, half-Indian girl&mdash;and brave the
+world, and, above all, that terrible old earl and his pride, for her
+sake.</p>
+
+<p>Still she dreamed and hoped, and set herself, meanwhile, all the more
+vigorously because of that hope, to "improve her mind." She picked up
+French wonderfully fast, having a tolerable foundation to go upon and a
+very quick ear, and she read and practised daily; beside learning
+various secrets of housekeeping, and attending her mother with the
+tenderest care. But it was very lonely. Lucia had never known what
+loneliness meant until those days when she sat by the window in the
+Champs Elys&eacute;es and watched the busy perpetual stream of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> passers up and
+down&mdash;the movements of a world which was close round about, yet with
+which she had no one link of acquaintance or affection. It was very
+lonely; and because she could not speak out her thoughts, and say, "Is
+Percy here? Shall I see him some day passing, and thinking nothing of my
+being near him?" she said the thing that lay next in her mind, "I wish
+Maurice were here! Don't you, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>They had been more than a month in their new home. The routine of life
+had grown familiar to them; they knew the outsides, at least, of all the
+neighbouring shops; they had walked together to the Arc de Triomphe on
+the one side, and to the Rond Point on the other; they had driven to the
+Bois de Boulogne, and done some little sight-seeing beside. They had
+done all, in short, to which Mrs. Costello's strength was at present
+equal, and had come to a little pause, waiting for warmer weather, and
+for the renewal of health, which they hoped sunshine would bring her.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon Claudine had been obliged to go out, and the little
+apartment was unusually quiet. Mrs. Costello, tired with a morning
+walk,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> had dropped into a doze; and Lucia sat by the window, her work on
+her lap, and her eyes idly following the constant succession of
+carriages down below. To tell the truth, she constantly outraged
+Claudine's sense of propriety, by insisting on having one little crevice
+uncurtained, where she could look out into the free air; and to-day she
+was making use of the privilege, for want of anything more interesting
+indoors. She had no fear of being disturbed, for they had no visitors;
+in all Paris, there was not one person they knew, unless&mdash;. Percy had
+been there a great deal formerly, she knew, and might be there now, but
+he would not know where to find them if he wished it; no one could
+possibly come to-day. And yet the first interruption that came in the
+midst of the drowsy, sunny silence, was a ring at the door-bell. Lucia
+raised her head in surprise, and listened. Mrs. Costello slept on. Who
+could it be? not Claudine, for she had the key. Must she go and open the
+door? It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated
+there was another ring, a little louder than the first.</p>
+
+<p>She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door. "I wish
+Claudine would come,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely
+to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought
+dolorously; but there was clearly no help.</p>
+
+<p>She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there&mdash;a
+gentleman! She uttered one little cry&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice!"</p>
+
+<p>And then they were both standing inside the closed door; and he held her
+two hands in his, and they were looking at each other with eyes too full
+of joy to see well.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia!" he said; "just yourself." But somehow his voice was not quite
+steady, and he dare not trust it any further.</p>
+
+<p>"We wanted you so, and you are come. Oh, Maurice! you are good to find
+us so soon!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you think I should not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell. How could you know where we were?"</p>
+
+<p>"I went to Chester, and asked."</p>
+
+<p>"To Chester? To my cousin's? Just to find us out?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Did not you know perfectly well that my first thought when I
+was free would be to find you?"</p>
+
+<p>He spoke half laughing, but there was no mistaking his earnestness in
+the matter; was not he here to prove it? Tears came very fast to Lucia's
+eyes. This was really like the old happy days coming back.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," she said, "mamma is here." But mamma still slept undisturbed,
+for their tones had been low in the greatness of their joy; and Maurice
+drew Lucia back, and would not let her awake her.</p>
+
+<p>"She looks very tired," he said rather hypocritically; "and it will be
+time enough to see me when she awakes. Don't disturb her."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia looked at her mother anxiously. She knew this sleep was good for
+the invalid, and yet it might last an hour, and how could she wait all
+that time for the thousand things she wanted to hear from Maurice? The
+door of their tiny salle &agrave; manger stood a little open.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in here, then," she said, "we shall be able to see when she
+wakes&mdash;and <i>I must</i> talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice followed obediently&mdash;this was better than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> his hopes, to have
+Lucia all to himself for the first half hour. She made him sit down in
+such a manner that he could not be seen by Mrs. Costello, while she
+herself could see through the open door and watch for her mother's
+waking.</p>
+
+<p>"And now tell me," she asked, "have you been back to Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>"I started the moment I could leave England after my grandfather's
+death, but when I reached Cacouna you were gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old home! I suppose all looked just as usual?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing looked as usual to me. As I came up the river I saw that the
+cottage was deserted, and that changed all the rest. But indeed I had
+had a tolerable certainty before that you were gone."</p>
+
+<p>"How?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember meeting a Cunard steamer two days out at sea?"</p>
+
+<p>"You were on board? How I strained my eyes to see if I could distinguish
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you? And I too. But though I could not see you, I felt that you
+were on board the ship we met."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was sitting on deck, longing for a telescope. Well, it is all right
+now. Did you bring Mr. Leigh home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; he is at Hunsdon, safe and well."</p>
+
+<p>"Hunsdon is your house now, is not it? Tell me what it is like?"</p>
+
+<p>"A great square place, with a huge white portico in front&mdash;very ugly, to
+tell the truth; but you would like the park, Lucia, and the trees."</p>
+
+<p>"It must be very grand. Does it feel very nice to be rich?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends on circumstances. But now do you think you are to ask all
+the questions and answer none?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed. There is one answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like Paris?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well enough. It is very lonely here without anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to stay here?"</p>
+
+<p>"For a month or two, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not be quite so lonely then in future&mdash;at least if I may come
+to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> my cousin Lady Dighton over
+soon, and she wants to know you."</p>
+
+<p>"To know <i>us</i>? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am,
+and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone,
+all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea&mdash;"the only thing
+that is good for her is to be quiet and happy&mdash;and the last few months
+have been so dreadful, she has suffered so."</p>
+
+<p>"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth
+in the world to have been able to help you."</p>
+
+<p>"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old
+friends would desert us. I never thought <i>you</i> would."</p>
+
+<p>"There is some comfort in that. Promise that whatever may come, you will
+always trust me."</p>
+
+<p>He held out his hand, and Lucia put hers frankly in it.</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment there was a stir, and Mrs. Costello called "Lucia."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello woke up gradually from her doze. She had been dreaming of
+Cacouna, and that Maurice and Lucia were sitting near her talking of his
+journey to England. She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange
+room which she soon recognized, but still it seemed as if part of her
+dream continued, for she could hear the murmur of two voices, very low,
+and could see Lucia sitting in the adjoining room and talking to
+somebody. Lucia, in fact, had forgotten to keep watch.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello listened for a minute. It was strangely like Maurice's
+voice. She sat up, and called her daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia started up and came into the salon. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> bent down over her
+mother, and kissed her to hide her flushed face and happy eyes for a
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you rested, dear mamma?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, darling. Who is there?"</p>
+
+<p>"A visitor, mother, from England."</p>
+
+<p>"From England? Not your cousin?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed. Guess again."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me. Quickly, Lucia."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say to Maurice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible!"</p>
+
+<p>But Maurice, hearing his own name, came forward boldly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have but just arrived, Mrs. Costello. I told you I should find you
+out."</p>
+
+<p>They looked at each other with something not unlike defiance, but
+nevertheless Mrs. Costello shook hands with her guest cordially enough.
+Certainly he <i>had</i> kept his word&mdash;there might be a mistake somewhere,
+and at all events, for the present moment he was here, and it was very
+pleasant to see him.</p>
+
+<p>So the three sat together and talked, and it seemed so natural that they
+should be doing it, that what did begin to be strange and incredible was
+the separation, and the various events of the past six months. But after
+Claudine had come in, and Lucia had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> obliged to go away "on
+hospitable cares intent," to arrange with her some little addition to
+the dinner which Maurice was to share with them, the newcomer took
+advantage of her absence, and resolved to get as many as possible of his
+difficulties over at once. He had not yet quite forgiven his faithless
+ally, and he meant to make a new treaty, now that he was on the spot to
+see it carried out.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid," he began, "that my coming so unexpectedly must have
+startled you a little, but I thought it was best not to write."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello could not help smiling&mdash;she was quite conscious of her
+tactics having been surpassed by Maurice's.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to see you, at any rate," she said, "now you <i>are</i> here; but"
+she added seriously, "you must not forget, nor try to tempt me to
+forget, that we are all changed since we met last."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not wish it. I don't wish to forget anything that is true and
+real, and I wish to remind you that when I left Canada I did so with a
+promise&mdash;an implied promise at any rate&mdash;from you, which has not been
+kept."</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice! Have you a right to speak to me so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have. Dear Mrs. Costello, have some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> consideration for me.
+Was it right when I was kept a fast prisoner by my poor grandfather's
+sick-bed, when I was trusting to you, and doing all I could to make you
+to trust me&mdash;was it fair to break faith with me, and try to deprive me
+of all the hopes I had in the world? Just think of it&mdash;was it fair?"</p>
+
+<p>"I broke no faith with you. I felt that I had let you pledge yourself in
+the dark; that in my care for Lucia, and confidence in you, I had to
+some extent bound you to a discreditable engagement. I released you from
+it; I told you the truth of the story I had hidden from everybody&mdash;I
+wrote to you when my husband lay in jail waiting his trial for murder,
+and I heard no more from you. It was natural, prudent, right that you
+should accept the separation I desired&mdash;you did so, and I have only
+taken means to make it effectual."</p>
+
+<p>"I did so! I accepted the separation?"</p>
+
+<p>"I supposed, at least, from your silence that you did so. Was not I
+right therefore in desiring that you and Lucia should not meet again?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i> was it, then? Listen, Mrs. Costello. My last note to you seems
+by some means to have been lost. There was nothing new in it; but my
+father has told me that he was surprised on receiving my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> letter which
+ought to have contained it, to find nothing for you, not even a message;
+perhaps you wondered too. I can only tell you the note was written.
+Then, in my next letter, written when my grandfather was actually dying,
+and when I was, I confess, very angry that you should persist in trying
+to shake me off, there was a message to you in a postscript which my
+father overlooked, and which I myself showed to him for the first time
+when I reached home and found you gone. What he had been thinking,
+Heaven knows. I had rather not inquire too closely; but I will say that
+it is rather hard to find that the people who ought to know one best,
+cannot trust one for six months."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello listened attentively while Maurice made his explanation
+with no little warmth and indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say that you did not perceive how foolish and wrong it
+had become for you to think of marrying Lucia?"</p>
+
+<p>"How in the world could it be either foolish or wrong for me to wish to
+marry the girl I have loved all my life? Unless, indeed, she preferred
+somebody else."</p>
+
+<p>"Remember who she is."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am not likely to forget that after all I have lately heard about her
+from Mrs. Morton."</p>
+
+<p>"And that you have a family and a position to think of now."</p>
+
+<p>"And a home fit to offer to Lucia."</p>
+
+<p>"Obstinate boy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Call me what you will, but let it be understood that I have done
+nothing to forfeit your promise. I am to take no further answers except
+from Lucia."</p>
+
+<p>"But you know, at least, that our worst fears were unfounded?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they were. I always knew that would come right. But you have
+suffered terribly; I am ashamed of my own selfishness when I think of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"We have suffered. And my poor child so innocently, and so bravely.
+Maurice, she is worth caring for."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall see whether I value her or not. Here she comes!"</p>
+
+<p>Lucia came in, the glow of pleasure still on her face which Maurice's
+arrival had brought there. It was no wonder that both mother and lover
+looked at her with delight as she moved about, too restlessly happy to
+sit still, yet pausing every minute to ask<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> some question or to listen
+to what the others were saying. Indeed not one of the three could well
+have been happier than they were that afternoon. Mrs. Costello felt that
+she had done all she could in the cause of prudence, and therefore
+rejoiced without compunction in seeing her favourite scheme for her
+darling restored to her more perfect than ever. Maurice, without having
+more than the minimum quantity of masculine vanity, had great faith in
+the virtues of perseverance and fidelity, and took the full benefit of
+Lucia's delight at seeing him; while Lucia herself was just simply
+glad&mdash;so glad that for an hour or two she quite forgot to think of
+Percy.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice declared he had business which would keep him in Paris for some
+weeks. He claimed permission therefore to come every day, and to take
+Lucia to all the places where Mrs. Costello was not able to go.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how charming!" Lucia cried. "I shall get some walks now. Do you
+know, Maurice, mamma will not let me go anywhere by myself, and I can't
+bear to make her walk; but you will go, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I will," Maurice said; but after that he went away back to his
+hotel, with his first uncom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>fortable sensation. Was Lucia still really
+such a child? Would she always persist in thinking of him as an elder
+brother&mdash;a dear brother, certainly, which was something, but not at all
+what he wanted? How should he make her understand the difference? That
+very day, her warm frank affection had been a perfect shield to her. The
+words that had risen to his lips had been stopped there, as absolutely
+as if he had been struck dumb. 'But I need not speak just yet,' he
+consoled himself. 'I must try to make her feel that I am of use to her,
+and that she would miss me if she sent me away. My darling! I must not
+risk anything by being too hasty.'</p>
+
+<p>He wrote two notes that night; one to his father, the other to Lady
+Dighton, which said,</p>
+
+<p>"Do come over. I am impatient to show Lucia to you. She is more
+beautiful and sweeter than ever. Of course, you will think all I say
+exaggerated, so do come and judge for yourself. I want an ally. All is
+right with Mrs. Costello, but I own I want courage with Lucia to "put it
+to the test." Suppose after all I should lose? But I dare not think of
+that."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello slept little that night. A second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> time within a year she
+saw all her plans destroyed, her anticipations proved mistaken; the
+brighter destiny she had formerly hoped for, was now within her child's
+grasp. Wealth, honour, and steadfast love were laid together at her
+feet. Would she gather them up? Would she be willing to give herself
+into the keeping of this faithful heart which had learnt so well "to
+love one maiden and to cleave to her?" The doubt seemed absurd, yet it
+came and haunted the mother's meditations. She knew perfectly that Lucia
+had no thought of Maurice but as a friend or brother. She could not
+quite understand how it had always continued so, but she knew it had.
+She had never been willing to think of her child's regard for Percy as
+likely to be a lasting feeling, and at most times she really did
+consider it only as a thing of the past; yet to-night it came before her
+tiresomely, and she remembered what Mrs. Bellairs had told her lately
+about his marriage. She resolved once to ask Maurice whether he had
+heard anything of it, but, on second thoughts, she decided that it was
+better to leave the matter alone.</p>
+
+<p>There was yet another person on whom Maurice's coming had made a most
+lively impression. Claudine, as soon after her first sight of him as she
+could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> get hold of Lucia, had a dozen questions to ask. "Was he
+Mademoiselle's brother? Her cousin then? Only a friend? What a charming
+young man! How tall he was! and what magnifiques yeux bruns! Now,
+surely, Mademoiselle would not be so <i>triste</i>? She would go out a
+little? and everybody would remark them, Mademoiselle being so graceful,
+and monsieur so <i>very</i> tall."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia told her mother, laughing, that she and Maurice were going to walk
+up the Champs Elys&eacute;es next day, with placards, saying that they were two
+North Americans newly caught; and when Maurice came next morning, she
+repeated Claudine's comments to him with a perfect enjoyment of the good
+little woman's admiration for "ce beau Monsieur Canadien."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>After that day, Paris became quite a different place to Lucia. Maurice
+was with them most of every day, and every day they saw something new,
+or made some little country excursion. The weather, though still rather
+cold, was fine and bright; winter had fairly given place to spring, and
+all externally was so gay, sunny and hopeful, that it was quite
+impossible to give way either to sad recollections of the past, or to
+melancholy thoughts of the future.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello's health seemed steadily, though slowly improving; she had
+now no anxiety, except that one shadowy doubt of Lucia's decision with
+regard to Maurice, and that she was glad to leave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> for the present in
+uncertainty. She felt no hesitation in letting the two young people go
+where they would together; they had always been like brother and sister,
+and, at the worst, they would still be that.</p>
+
+<p>When this pleasant life had lasted about ten days, Maurice came in one
+morning and said,</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say to a visitor to-day, Lucia?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucia looked up eagerly with clasped hands,</p>
+
+<p>"Who?" she cried. "Not your cousin?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Maurice! I am afraid of her&mdash;I am indeed. I am sure she is a
+<i>grande dame</i>, and will annihilate me."</p>
+
+<p>"Silly child! She is a tiny woman, with a fair little face and not a bit
+of grandeur about her. You yourself will look like a queen beside her."</p>
+
+<p>"She is your very good friend, is not she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed she is. Promise me to try to like her."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I will try. Is she really coming here?"</p>
+
+<p>"She wishes to call this afternoon."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lucia looked round the room. It was nice enough, and pretty in its way
+with its mirrors, gilt ornaments, and imposing clock on the mantelpiece;
+but it was so small! Three people quite filled it up. But she finished
+her survey with a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"If they would only let us have less furniture!" she said. "It was all
+very well as long as we had nothing better than tables and chairs to
+fill up the room with; but at present&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She finished her sentence with a little shrug, in imitation of Claudine,
+which made Maurice laugh also. He proceeded, however, to warn her that
+worse was in reserve.</p>
+
+<p>"Louisa will come alone, to-day," he said, "because I told her Mrs.
+Costello was an invalid, but you must expect that next time she will
+bring her husband, and Sir John is no small person I assure you."</p>
+
+<p>"When did they arrive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Last night."</p>
+
+<p>"How long will they stay, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two or three weeks I imagine, but I know nothing positively of their
+plans."</p>
+
+<p>"And Maurice, tell me when you must go back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> to England? I do not want
+our pleasant life to end just as suddenly as it began."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor do I. I am not going just yet."</p>
+
+<p>"But have not you quantities of affairs to attend to, you important
+person?"</p>
+
+<p>"My most serious affair at present is in Paris. Don't be afraid, I am
+not forgetting my duties."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we cannot go out to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Put on your bonnet and come now for a walk."</p>
+
+<p>"I must ask mamma, and tell her your news. She is late this morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello had risen late since she came to Paris. Lucia found her
+dressed and discussing some household affair with Claudine.</p>
+
+<p>"Only think, mamma," she began. "Lady Dighton came over yesterday and is
+coming to see you to-day."</p>
+
+<p>But the news was no surprise to Mrs. Costello, who had received a hint
+from Maurice that he wished to see his cousin and Lucia friends, before
+he ventured on that decisive question to which they all, except Lucia,
+were looking forward so anxiously. But she was keenly alive to the
+desire<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> that her child should make a favourable impression on this lady,
+who had evidently some influence with Maurice, and who, if the
+wished-for marriage took place, would become Lucia's near relative and
+neighbour. She said nothing at all about this, however, and was
+perfectly content that the young people should take one of those long
+walks which brought such a lovely colour into her daughter's pale
+cheeks, and so gave the last perfecting touch to her beauty.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice left Lucia at the door, and went back to the hotel where he had
+promised Lady Dighton to lunch with her. She was waiting for him,
+looking more than usually fair and pretty in the mourning she wore for
+her grandfather. He could not help thinking, as he came in, how rich and
+handsome everything about her seemed, in contrast to the bare simplicity
+of his poorer friends&mdash;yet certainly nature had intended Lucia for a
+much more stately and magnificent person than this little lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" she said smiling. "Have you persuaded your friends to receive
+me? I can assure you my curiosity has nearly overpowered me this
+morning."</p>
+
+<p>"You will be disappointed, of course. You are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> imagining a heroine, and
+you will see only a young country girl."</p>
+
+<p>"For shame, Maurice! If I am imagining a heroine, I wonder whose fault
+it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would not form your judgment for a week. You are enough of a
+fine lady, Louisa, to be a little affected by externals, and my pearl
+has no fine setting at present; it will need looking at closely to find
+out its value."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think, oh most philosophical of lovers! that I am not capable
+of distinguishing a real pearl unless it is set in gold, and has its
+price ticketed?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think, at least, that I am so anxious to see you the same kind friend
+to her as you have been to me, that I am troubling myself uselessly
+about the first impressions."</p>
+
+<p>"On both sides? Well, trust me, Maurice I will like your Lucia for your
+sake, and try to make her like me."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you; I know you will. And after the first, you will not be able
+to help loving her."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir John is not to go with us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not unless you particularly wish it. Where is he?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Gone out shopping. Don't laugh. I suspect his shopping is of a
+different kind to mine, and quite as expensive."</p>
+
+<p>"Can anything be as expensive as the charming bonnets I heard you
+talking of this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take care. Only hint that I am extravagant, and I will devote myself to
+corrupting Lucia, and avenge myself by making your pocket suffer."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish my pocket had anything to do with it. Pray be careful, Louisa,
+and remember that I have not dared to speak to her yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall remember. Come to lunch now. Sir John will not be in."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice tried in vain to talk as they drove slowly along to Mrs.
+Costello's. The street was full of people, and Lady Dighton amused
+herself by looking out for acquaintances, and saluting those they met. A
+good many English were in Paris; and she had also a pretty large circle
+of French people with whom she was on friendly terms; so that she had
+quite enough occupation to prevent her noticing her cousin's silence.
+But the moment the carriage stopped, she was ready to give her whole
+attention<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> to him and his affairs; she gave him a little nod and smile
+full of sympathy as she went up the staircase, and the moment Claudine
+opened the door he perceived that he might leave everything in her hands
+with the most perfect confidence in her management.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a little flutter of expectation in Lucia's mind for the
+last half-hour, in which she wondered her mother did not express more
+sympathy; and when, at last, the door opened, she was seized with a
+sudden tremor, and for an instant felt herself deaf and blind. The
+moment passed, however, and there came sweeping softly into the room a
+little figure with golden hair and widely flowing draperies; a fair face
+with a pleasant smile, and a clear musical voice; these were the things
+that first impressed her as belonging to Maurice's formidable cousin.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dighton's first words were of course addressed to Mrs.
+Costello&mdash;they seemed to Lucia to be a plea for a welcome, as Maurice's
+near relation&mdash;and then the two young women stood face to face and
+exchanged one quick glance. Lady Dighton held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Costello," she said, "you and I are so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> totally unlike each other,
+that I am certain we were meant to be friends&mdash;will you try?"</p>
+
+<p>The suddenness and oddity of the address struck Lucia dumb. She gave her
+hand, however, to her new friend with a smile, and as she did so, her
+eye caught the reflection of their two figures in a glass opposite.</p>
+
+<p>Truly, they were unlike each other&mdash;very opposites&mdash;but either because,
+or in spite of the difference, they seemed to suit each other.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour spent in calling upon or receiving a call from an entire
+stranger, is generally a very heavy tax on one's good humour; but
+occasionally, when the visit is clearly the beginning of a pleasant
+acquaintance&mdash;perhaps a valuable friendship&mdash;things are entirely
+different. Lady Dighton had come with the intention of making herself
+agreeable, and few people knew better how to do it; but she found no
+effort necessary, and time slipped away more quickly than she thought
+possible. She stayed, in fact, until she felt quite sure her husband
+would have been waiting so long as to be growing uneasy, and when she
+did get up to go away, she begged Mrs. Costello and Lucia to dine with
+her next day.</p>
+
+<p>"And Maurice," she said, "you must persuade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> Miss Costello to join us in
+an excursion somewhere. It is quite the weather for long drives, and our
+holiday will not be very long, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I am entirely at your command," Maurice said, "and Lucia must do as she
+is bid, so pray settle your plans with Mrs. Costello."</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Costello said decidedly that to dine out for herself was out of
+the question&mdash;she had not done so for years.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I am so sorry," Lady Dighton said. "But of course we must not ask
+you in that case&mdash;Miss Costello may come to us, may she not? I will take
+good care of her."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia had many scruples about leaving her mother; but, however, it was
+finally settled that the Dightons should call for her next day&mdash;that
+they should have a long drive to some place not yet fixed upon&mdash;and that
+she should afterwards spend the evening with them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello was pleased that her child should go out a little after
+her long seclusion from all society; and the whole plan was arranged
+with little reference to Lucia, who vainly tried to avoid this long
+absence from her mother.</p>
+
+<p>The two cousins were scarcely on their road when Lady Dighton asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Maurice, am I to reserve my opinion?"</p>
+
+<p>"As you please," he answered smiling. "I am sure it is not very
+unfavourable."</p>
+
+<p>"She is wonderfully beautiful; and, what is most strange, she knows it
+without being vain."</p>
+
+<p>"Vain? I should think she was not!"</p>
+
+<p>"What grace she has! With her small head and magnificent hair and eyes,
+she would have had quite beauty enough for one girl without being so
+erect and stately. You never gave me the idea that she was so
+excessively handsome, Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she? I don't believe I knew it. You see I have known her all her
+life&mdash;I know every one of her qualities, I believe, good and bad; and
+all her ways. I knew she had the purest nature and the warmest, bravest
+heart a woman could have; but I have thought very little about her
+beauty by itself."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, let me tell you, she only needs to be seen&mdash;she is quite
+lovely; and as for the rest, I do not know yet, but I am very much
+inclined to think you may be right. At all events, we are going to be
+good friends, and by-and-by I shall know all about her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lucia came home late in the evening. Mrs. Costello, resuming her old
+habits, had sent the servant to bed, and herself admitted her daughter.
+They went into the drawing-room together to talk over the day's doings.</p>
+
+<p>"You look very bright," Mrs. Costello said with her hand on Lucia's
+shoulder. "You have enjoyed yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma, <i>so</i> much. You know I was a little afraid of Lady Dighton,
+and dreadfully afraid of Sir John. But they have both been so good to
+me; just like people at Cacouna who had known me all my life."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello smiled. She was very glad this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> friendship seemed likely
+to prosper. Yet it was not very wonderful that any one should like
+Lucia.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"We went to Versailles, and saw the gardens. We had no time for the
+Palace; but Maurice is going to take me there another day. Then we came
+home and had dinner; and where do you think we have been since?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the theatre! Oh, mamma, it was so nice! You know, I never was in one
+before."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia clasped her hands, and looked up at her mother with such a
+perfectly innocent, childish, face of delight, that it was impossible
+not to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"What a day of dissipation!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but just for once, you know. And I could not help it."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not see why you should have wished to help it. How about your
+French? Could you understand the play?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty well. It was very shocking, you know. Lady Dighton says the best
+French plays always are. I cried a little, and I was so ashamed of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+myself; only I saw some other people crying too, so then I did not mind
+so much."</p>
+
+<p>"You did not really see much of Lady Dighton, then, if you were driving
+all afternoon and at the theatre all evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes; we had a long talk before dinner. When we came in, she said,
+'Now, Maurice, you must just amuse yourself how you can for an hour. Sir
+John has English papers to read, and Miss Costello and I are going to my
+room to have a chat.' So she took me off to her dressing-room, and we
+were by ourselves there for quite an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"In which time, I suppose, you talked about everything in heaven and
+earth."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. No, indeed; I believe we talked most about Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"He is a favourite of hers."</p>
+
+<p>"She says she liked him from the first. She is so funny in her way of
+describing things. She said, 'We English are horribly benighted with
+regard to you colonists; and my notions of geography are elementary.
+When grandpapa told me he had sent for his heir from Canada, I went to
+Sir John and asked him where Canada was. He got a big map and began to
+show me; but all I could under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>stand was, that it was in North America.
+I saw an American once. I suppose I must have seen others, but I
+remember one particularly, for being an American; he was dreadfully thin
+and had straight black hair, and a queer little pointed black beard, and
+I <i>think</i> he spoke through his nose; and really I began to be haunted by
+a recollection of this man, and to think I was going to have a cousin
+just like him.' Then she told me about going over to Hunsdon and finding
+he had arrived. She said that before the end of the day they were fast
+friends."</p>
+
+<p>"He was not like what she expected, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just the opposite. She made me laugh about that. She said, 'I like
+handsome people, and I like an English style of beauty for men. My poor
+dear Sir John is not handsome, though he has a good face; but really
+when a man is good-looking <i>and</i> looks good, I can't resist him.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to have been much occupied with this question of looks. Did
+you spend the whole hour talking about them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma! Why that was only the beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"What was the rest, then? or some of it, at least?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"She told me how good Maurice was to his grandfather, and how fond Mr.
+Beresford grew of him. Do you know that Maurice was just going to try to
+get away to Canada at the very time Mr. Beresford had his last attack?
+Lady Dighton says he was excessively anxious to go, and yet he never
+showed the least impatience or disappointment when he found he could not
+be spared."</p>
+
+<p>"He must have felt that he was bound to his grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"He nursed him just like a woman, Lady Dighton says, and one could fancy
+it. Could not you, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't find it difficult to believe anything good of Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! and then she told me about Hunsdon. She was born there, and lived
+there till she was married. She told me all about why Mr. Beresford left
+it to Maurice, and not to her. But, mamma, I cannot understand how
+Maurice can be so long away from home. I should think he must have
+quantities of things to attend to; and she told me Sir John was always
+busy, though his estate is not so large as Hunsdon. Only think, mamma,
+of Maurice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> our Maurice, having more than ten thousand a year!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear, since we have come to talking of our neighbour's fortunes,
+I think we had better go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes; how thoughtless I am, keeping you up so. And I must be early
+to-morrow, for Lady Dighton is coming to see you, and Maurice wants me
+to go with him for a walk first. Not to see anything, but just for a
+walk."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello lay down that night with a great feeling of content with
+regard to her daughter's future.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," she thought, "Maurice may be satisfied with the affection
+she has for him; if it is not just the kind of love he wishes for, that
+is only because it has never entered her mind that he could be anything
+but a brother to her. She is so excessively childish in some things! I
+shall be glad now when she really does begin to understand. Only, must I
+part with her? Better that than that I should leave her alone; better
+even than that she should have to go among strange relatives."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice had asked Lucia to walk with him for the sake of having her
+quite to himself for an hour, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> perhaps of asking that much meditated
+question. He had specially bargained that they were not to "go
+anywhere;" but simply to choose a tolerably quiet road and go straight
+along it. Accordingly they started, and went slowly up the sunny slope
+towards the great arch, talking of yesterday, and of the trifles which
+always seemed interesting when they spoke of them together. After they
+had passed the barrier, they hesitated a little which road to take&mdash;they
+had already made several expeditions in this direction, and Lucia wanted
+novelty. Finally they took the road to Neuilly, and went on for a time
+very contentedly. But Maurice, after a while, fell into little fits of
+silence, thinking how he should first speak of the subject most
+important to him. He felt that there could be no better opportunity than
+this, and he was not cool enough to reflect that it was waste of trouble
+to try to choose his words, since if Lucia accepted him she would for
+ever think them eloquent; and if she refused him, would be certain to
+consider them stupid. She, on the other hand, was in unusually high
+spirits. It had occurred to her that Lady Dighton, who seemed to know
+everybody, would probably know Percy. She had begun already to lay deep
+plans for finding out if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> this was the case, and after that, where he
+was at present. She had thought of him so much lately, and so tenderly;
+she had remembered so often his earnestness and her own harshness in
+that last interview, that she felt as if she owed him some reparation,
+and as if his love were far more ardent than hers, and must needs be
+more stable also. The idea that she had advanced a step towards the
+happiness of meeting him again, added the last ingredient to her
+content. She could have danced for joy.</p>
+
+<p>They walked a considerable distance, and Maurice had not yet found
+courage for what he wanted to say. Lucia began to think of her mother's
+loneliness, and proposed to return; he would have tempted her further,
+but a strange shyness and embarrassment seemed to have taken possession
+of him. They had actually turned round and begun to walk towards home
+before he had found a reason for not doing it.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia," he said abruptly, after one of the pauses which had been
+growing more and more frequent, "don't you wish to go over to England?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do," she answered with some sur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>prise; "I wish we <i>could</i>
+go. You know I always used to wish it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you try now you are so near?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, Maurice, you know mamma cannot go."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember hearing something about your grandfather having wished her
+not to do so. Forgive me if it is a painful subject; but do not you see
+that things are quite changed now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she could, then? But I <i>don't</i> see."</p>
+
+<p>"Her father, I suppose, wished to avoid the chance of her marriage being
+gossipped about. His idea of her going back to England was naturally
+that she would go among her own relations and old acquaintance who knew
+the story. Now, I believe that she might go to any other part of the
+island&mdash;say Norfolk, for instance&mdash;and obey his wishes just as much as
+by staying in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"To Norfolk? Why, then, we should be near you? Oh! do try to persuade
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"I must have you decidedly on my side then. I must be enabled to offer
+her a great inducement. If, for instance, I could tell her that you had
+made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> up your mind to come and live in Norfolk, she might say yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but she would have to make up her mind first. See Maurice," she
+broke in abruptly, "what is that little building on the other side the
+road? There are some people who look like English going in."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mind that now, I want to talk to you."</p>
+
+<p>"We have been talking. Only tell me what it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a chapel built on the place where the Duke of Orleans was killed
+some years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember now somebody told me about it; his monument is there."</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely. I know nothing about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Maurice! to speak in that tone, when it was such a sad thing."</p>
+
+<p>"There are so many sad things&mdash;one cannot pity everybody."</p>
+
+<p>"You are cross this morning. What is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. What do you want me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just now I want you to take me in there. I see it is open."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was no help; the moment was gone. Lucia's head was full of the
+unhappy Duke of Orleans, and it would, have been very bad policy,
+Maurice thought, to oppose her whim. He rang the bell, and they were
+admitted without difficulty into the open space in front of the chapel.
+The old man who let them in pointed to the half-open door, and, saying
+that his wife was in there with a party, retreated, and left them to
+find their own way into the building itself. They passed quietly through
+the entrance and into the soft grey light of the chapel. Lucia stopped
+only to take one glance of the tiny interior, so coldly mournful with
+its black draperies and chill white and grey marble, and then passed
+round to examine more closely the monument which marks the very spot
+where the fatal accident occurred. Maurice followed her. They stood half
+concealed by the monument, and speaking low, while the tones of other
+voices could be distinctly heard from the recess behind the altar where
+the English visitors were examining the picture of the Duke's death.
+There was one rather high-pitched female voice which broke the solemn
+stillness unpleasantly, and as it became more audible, Lucia laid her
+hand softly on Maurice's arm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> to make him listen, and looked up in his
+face with eyes full of laughter. The lady was talking French to the
+guide with a strong English accent and in a peculiar drawl, which had a
+very droll effect. It was a manner new to them both, though Maurice
+could not help thinking, as he listened, of Percy in his worst moods.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to have seen it," the voice said, "and quite by chance, too;
+it is excessively interesting, so melancholy. Ah! you say that they laid
+him just there? It makes one shudder! No, I will not go near the place;
+it is too shocking."</p>
+
+<p>At the last words Maurice and Lucia saw the speaker emerge from behind
+the altar on the side furthest from where they stood. She was a tall
+woman, neither young nor pretty, but very fashionable&mdash;distinguished,
+Lucia supposed she should be called; and but for the peculiarity of her
+voice, would have made a favourable rather than an unfavourable
+impression on a stranger. She stopped just at the top of the steps, and
+turned round to speak again to some one behind her who was still
+concealed by the altar. This time she spoke English in a lower tone, and
+with a greater drawl.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Edward," she said, "it is very small.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> Pray don't give the
+woman much; you know how heavy our expenses are. I think I ought to
+carry the purse."</p>
+
+<p>"As you please, my dear; it would save me trouble, certainly."</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of that second voice Maurice started and looked at Lucia.
+She had suddenly grasped at the stonework before her, and stood looking
+with passionate eagerness over the carved figure of the dying Duke
+towards the altar. He almost shuddered at the intensity of that
+gaze&mdash;the rigidity of intolerable suspense in her whole figure; but he
+could only be still and watch her.</p>
+
+<p>The unconscious Englishwoman moved on; close behind her, following her
+with his old languid manner, came the man Lucia was watching for&mdash;Edward
+Percy.</p>
+
+<p>Still she never stirred. They passed down the chapel with her eyes upon
+them, but they never saw her, and she made no sound or movement. Only
+when they were no longer in sight, everything seemed to grow suddenly
+black and confused about her&mdash;her hold upon the marble relaxed, and she
+would have fallen if Maurice had not gently supported her, and drawn her
+to a seat close by.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She did not faint, though she was cold and white and powerless. After a
+minute Maurice, bending over her, saw that she was trying to speak. Her
+lips seemed stiff and hardly able to form the words, but he made out,</p>
+
+<p>"Who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated a moment; but she saw that he <i>could</i> answer, and her eyes
+insisted on her question.</p>
+
+<p>"She is his wife," he answered; "they were married, I believe, a month
+or six weeks ago."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, at his words, the blood seemed to rise with one quick rush to
+her very temples.</p>
+
+<p>"You knew," she said, "and would not tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>Then after her momentary anger came shame, bitter and intolerable, for
+her self-betrayal. She bent down her face on her hands, but her whole
+figure shook with violent agitation. Maurice suffered scarcely less. His
+love for her gave him a comprehension of all, and a sympathy unspeakable
+with her pain. He laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as he had often
+done in her childish troubles, but one word escaped him which he had
+never spoken to her before,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My darling! my darling!"</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps she did not hear it; but at least she understood that through
+all the pang of her loss, there remained with her one faithful and
+perfect affection; and even at that moment she was unconsciously
+comforted.</p>
+
+<p>But the Percys were gone, and the guide was coming back into the chapel
+after a word or two at the door with her husband; Maurice had to decide
+instantly what to do. He said to Lucia,</p>
+
+<p>"Wait here for me," and then going forward to meet the woman, he
+contrived to make her comprehend that the lady was ill; and that he was
+going for a carriage. He then hurried out, and Lucia was left alone in
+the chapel with the good-natured Frenchwoman, who looked at her
+compassionately and troubled her with no questions.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes the poor child remained too bewildered to notice
+anything; but when at last she raised her head, and saw that Maurice was
+not there, she grew frightened. Had she been so childish and
+uncontrolled as to have disgusted even him? Had he left her, too? She
+tried to get up from her seat, but she could not stand. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> guide saw
+her attempt, and thought it time to interfere.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur would be back immediately," she said. "He was gone for a
+carriage. It was unfortunate madame should be taken ill so suddenly."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia smiled a very miserable kind of smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered, "it was unfortunate, but it was only a little
+giddiness."</p>
+
+<p>And there she broke off to listen to the sound of wheels which stopped
+at the gate.</p>
+
+<p>It was Maurice; and at the sight of him Lucia felt strong again. She
+rose and met him as he came towards her.</p>
+
+<p>"I have got a carriage," he said. "We had walked too far. Can you go to
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>She could find nothing to say in answer. He made her lean on his arm,
+and took her across the court and put her into the vehicle.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you rather go alone?" he asked her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no, no," she cried nervously, and in a minute afterwards they were
+on their way homewards.</p>
+
+<p>When they had started, she put her hand to her head confusedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is not it strange?" she said half to herself. "I was sure we should
+meet in Paris; only I never guessed it would be to-day. Across a grave,
+that was right."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice shuddered at her tone; it sounded as if she were talking in her
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Lucia," he said, "scold me, be angry with me. I should have told
+you."</p>
+
+<p>She seemed to wake at the sound of his voice, and again that burning,
+painful flush covered her face and neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Maurice," she cried, "it is you who should scold me. What must you
+think? But, indeed, I am not so bad as I seem."</p>
+
+<p>"It is I who have been blind. I thought you had forgotten him."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgotten him? So soon? I thought he could not even have forgotten me!"</p>
+
+<p>Maurice clenched his hand. The very simplicity of her words stirred his
+anger more deeply against his successful rival. For <i>her</i> he had still
+nothing but the most pitiful tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>"Some men, Lucia, love themselves too well to have any great love for
+another."</p>
+
+<p>"But he did care for me. I want to tell you. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> want you to see that I
+am not quite so bad&mdash;he did care for me very much, and I sent him away."</p>
+
+<p>"You refused him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not just that. At first, you know, I thought everything could be made
+to come right in time&mdash;and then mamma told me all that terrible story
+about her marriage, and about the constant fear she was in; and then&mdash;I
+could not tell that to him&mdash;so I said he must go away. And he did; but
+he told me perhaps in a year I should change my mind. And the year is
+not over yet."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice was silent. He would not, if he could help it, say one word of
+evil to Lucia about this man whom she still loved; and at first he could
+not trust himself to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>And he understood instinctively what she meant, and told her shortly
+when and where he had seen Percy, and what he had heard from the
+solicitor.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the same lady, then," she said, "that I remember hearing of."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, no doubt. I recollect some story being told of him and her, even
+in Cacouna."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia sighed heavily. She had now got over the difficulty of speaking on
+the subject to Maurice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> She knew so well that he was trustworthy, and
+for the rest, was he not just the same as a brother?</p>
+
+<p>"He might have waited a year," she murmured. "You cannot imagine how
+happy I have been lately, thinking I must see him soon!"</p>
+
+<p>"Cannot I?" Maurice cried desperately. "Listen to me, Lucia! I, too,
+have been happy lately. I have been living on a false hope. I have been
+deceived, and placed all my trust in a shadow. Don't you think we ought
+to be able to feel for each other?"</p>
+
+<p>His vehemence and the bitterness of his tone terrified her. She laid her
+little trembling hand on his appealingly.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>But he had controlled himself instantly. He took hold of her hand and
+put it to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean nothing," he said, "at least nothing I can tell you about at
+present. Are you feeling strong enough to meet Mrs. Costello? You must
+not frighten her, you know, as you did me."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I frighten you? I am so sorry and ashamed&mdash;only, you know&mdash;Yes, I
+can behave well now."</p>
+
+<p>He saw that she could. Her self-command had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> entirely returned now. Her
+grieving would be silent or kept for solitude henceforward. They had
+already passed the barrier, and in a minute would stop at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not coming in with you," Maurice said, "I must go on now; but I
+shall see you this evening."</p>
+
+<p>He saw her inside the house and then drove away, while she little
+guessed how sore a heart he took with him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+
+<p>As Lucia went up the staircase, the slight stimulus of excitement which
+Maurice's presence had supplied, died out, and she began to be conscious
+of a horrible depression and sense of vacancy. She went up with a step
+that grew more tired and languid at every movement, till she reached the
+door where Claudine was having a little gossip with the concierge.</p>
+
+<p>She was glad even to be saved the trouble of ringing, and glided past
+the two "like a ghaist," and came into her mother's presence with that
+same weary gait and white face. It was not even until Mrs. Costello rose
+in alarm and surprise with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> anxious questions on her lips that the poor
+child became aware of the change in herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I am tired," she said. "I have such a headache, mamma," and she tried
+to wake herself out of her bewilderment and look natural.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Maurice?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is gone&mdash;he is coming back this evening, I think he said."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello guessed instantly that Maurice was the cause of Lucia's
+disturbance.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child!" she thought; "it could not help but be a surprise to her.
+I wonder if all is going well?" But she dared not speak of that subject
+just yet.</p>
+
+<p>"You must have walked much too far," she said aloud. "Go and lie down,
+darling&mdash;I will come with you."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia obeyed. She was actually physically tired, as she said, and her
+head did ache with a dull heavy pain. Mrs. Costello arranged the
+pillows, drew warm coverings over her, and left her without one further
+question; for she was completely persuaded of the truth of her own
+surmise, and feared to endanger Maurice's hopes and her own favourite
+plan by an injudicious word. She did not go far away,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> however, and
+Lucia, still conscious of her nearness, dared not move or sigh. With her
+face pressed close to the pillow, she could let the hot tears which
+seemed to scald her eyes drop from under the half-closed lids; but after
+a little while, the warmth and stillness and her fatigue began to have
+their effect. The tears ceased to drop, the one hand which had grasped
+the edge of the covering relaxed, and she dropped asleep.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by Mrs. Costello came in softly, and stood looking at her. She
+lay just like a child with her pale cheeks still wet, and the long black
+lashes glistening. Her little hand, so slender and finely shaped, rested
+lightly against the pillow; her soft regular breathing just broke the
+complete stillness enough to give the aspect of sleep, instead of that
+of death. She was fair enough, in her sweet girlish beauty and
+innocence, to have been a poet's or an artist's inspiration. The
+mother's eyes grew very dim as she looked at her child, but she never
+guessed that there had been more than the stir of surprise in her heart
+that day&mdash;that she was "sleeping for sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>It was twilight in the room when Lucia woke. She came slowly to the
+recollection of the past, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> the consciousness of the present, and
+without moving began to gather up her thoughts and understand what had
+happened to her, and why she had slept. The door was ajar, and voices
+could be faintly heard talking in the salon. She even distinguished her
+mother's tones, and Lady Dighton's, but there were no others. It was a
+relief to her. She thought she ought to get up and go to them, but if
+Maurice had been there, or even Sir John, she felt that her courage
+would have failed. She raised herself up, and pushed back her disordered
+hair; with a hand pressed to each temple, she tried to realize how she
+had awoke that very morning, hopeful and happy, and that she had had a
+dreadful loss which was <i>her own</i>&mdash;only hers, and could meet with no
+sympathy from others. But then she remembered that it had met with
+sympathy already&mdash;not much in words, but in tone and look and
+action&mdash;from the one unfailing friend of her whole life. Maurice
+knew&mdash;Maurice did not contemn her&mdash;there was a little humiliation in the
+thought, but more sweetness. She went over the whole scene in the
+chapel, and for the first time there came into her mind a sense of the
+inexpressible tenderness which had soothed her as she sat there half
+stupefied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Dear Maurice!" she said to herself, and then as her recollection grew
+more vivid, a sudden shame seized her&mdash;neck and arms and brow were
+crimson in a moment, with the shock of the new idea&mdash;and she sprang up
+and began to dress, in hopes to escape from it by motion.</p>
+
+<p>But before she was ready to leave the room her sorrow had come back, too
+strong and bitter to leave place for other thoughts. The vivid hope of
+Percy's faithful recollection enduring at least for a year, had come to
+give her strength and courage in the very time when her youthful
+energies had almost broken down under the weight of so many troubles; it
+had been a kind of prop on which she leaned through her last partings
+and anxieties, and which seemed to be the very foundation of her recent
+content. To have it struck away from her suddenly, left her helpless and
+confused; her own natural forces, or the support of others, might
+presently supply its place, but for the moment she did not know where to
+look to satisfy the terrible want.</p>
+
+<p>She went out, however, to face her small world, with what resolution she
+could muster, and was not a little glad that the dim light would save
+her looks from any close scrutiny.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lady Dighton had been paying a long visit to Mrs. Costello, and the two
+perfectly understood each other. They both thought, also, that they
+understood what had occurred that morning, and why Lucia had a headache.
+Maurice had not made his appearance at his cousin's luncheon, as she
+expected, but that was not wonderful. Lady Dighton, however, had said to
+Mrs. Costello,</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite extraordinary to me how Lucia can have seen Maurice's
+perfect devotion to her, and not perceived that it was more than
+brotherly."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello did not feel bound to explain that Lucia's thoughts, as
+far as they had ever been occupied at all with love, had been drawn away
+in quite a different direction, so she contented herself with answering,</p>
+
+<p>"She is very childish in some things, and she has been all her life
+accustomed to think of him as a brother. I knew he would have some
+difficulty at first in persuading her to think otherwise."</p>
+
+<p>"He can't have failed?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not. She has not told me anything, and therefore I do not
+suppose there is anything decisive to tell."</p>
+
+<p>After their conversation the two naturally looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> with interest for
+Lucia's coming. They heard her stirring, and exchanged a few more words,</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps we shall know now?"</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, Maurice will enlighten us when he arrives."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia came in, gliding silently through the dim light. Her quiet
+movement was unconscious&mdash;she would have chosen to appear more, rather
+than less, animated than usual. Lady Dighton came forward to meet her.</p>
+
+<p>"So you walked too far this morning?" she said. "I think it was a little
+too bad when you knew I was coming to see you to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not think I should be so tired," Lucia answered, and the friendly
+dusk hid her blush at her own disingenuousness.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you quite rested, my child?" Mrs. Costello asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma. My head aches a little still, but it will soon be better, I
+dare say. I am ashamed of being so lazy."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Maurice?" said Lady Dighton. "I expected to have found him
+here, as he did not come in for lunch."</p>
+
+<p>"Has he not been with you then? He left me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> at the door, and said he
+would come back this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"He has not been with me, certainly, though he promised to be. I thought
+you were answerable for his absence."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia did not reply. Her heart beat fast, and the last words kept
+ringing in her ears, "you were answerable for his absence." Was she
+answerable for <i>any</i> doings of Maurice's? Had that morning's meeting, so
+strange and sudden for her, disturbed him too? She could only be silent
+and feel as if she had been accused, justly accused&mdash;but of what?</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, her silence, which was not that of indifference, seemed to
+prove that the conjectures of the other two were right. They even
+ventured to exchange glances of intelligence, but Mrs. Costello hastened
+to fill up the break in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true," she inquired of her visitor, "that you talk of going home
+next week?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; we only came for a fortnight at the longest; and as the affair
+which brought us over seems to be happily progressing, there is no
+reason for delay."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I am sorry," Lucia said impulsively. "Maurice goes with you, does
+not he?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Cela d&eacute;pend</i>&mdash;he is not obliged to go just then, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"But surely he ought. We must make him go."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you would be sorry to lose him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course; only&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Another of those unexplained pauses! It was certainly a tantalizing
+state of affairs, though, in fact, this last one did but mean, "only he
+must be neglecting his affairs while he stops here." Lucia merely broke
+off because she felt as if Lady Dighton might think the words an
+impertinence.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after this they parted. Something was said about to-morrow, but
+they finally left all arrangements to be made when Maurice should
+appear, which it was supposed he would do at dinner to the Dightons, and
+after it to the Costellos.</p>
+
+<p>Dinner had been long over in the little apartment in the Champs Elys&eacute;es
+when Maurice arrived there. The mother and daughter were sitting
+together as usual, but in unusual silence&mdash;Lucia absorbed in thought,
+Mrs. Costello watching and wondering, but still refraining from asking
+questions. Maurice came in, looking pale and tired. Lucia got up, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
+drew a chair for him near her mother. It was done with a double object;
+she wanted to express her grateful affection, and she wanted to manage
+so as to be herself out of his sight. He neither resisted her
+man&oelig;uvre nor even saw it, but sat down wearily and began to reply to
+her mother's questions.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been out of town. I had seen nothing of the country round Paris,
+so I thought I would make an excursion."</p>
+
+<p>"An excursion all alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I have been to St. Denis."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"By rail. I started to come back by an omnibus I saw out there, but I
+did not much care about that mode of conveyance, so I got out and
+walked."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen Lady Dighton?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen no one. I am but just come back."</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice! Have you not dined, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Never mind that. I will have some tea with you, please, by-and-by."</p>
+
+<p>But Lucia had received a glance from her mother, and was gone already to
+try what Claudine's resources could produce. Mrs. Costello leaned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
+forward, and laid her hand entreatingly on Maurice's arm,</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what all this means?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to smile as he returned her look, but his eyes fell before the
+earnestness of hers.</p>
+
+<p>"What what means?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Both you and Lucia know something I don't know," she answered. "I would
+rather question you than her. Has she troubled you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in the way you think," he answered quickly. "I have partly changed
+my plans. I shall be obliged to go back to England with my cousin. Don't
+question Lucia, dear Mrs. Costello, let her be in peace for awhile."</p>
+
+<p>"In peace? But she has been in peace&mdash;happy as the day was long,
+lately."</p>
+
+<p>"She is disturbed now&mdash;yes, it is my fault&mdash;and I will do penance for
+it. You understand I do not give up my hopes&mdash;I only defer them."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Maurice, I <i>don't</i> understand. You are neither changeable, nor
+likely to give Lucia any excuse for being foolish. Why should you go
+away? She exclaimed how sorry she was when your cousin spoke of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she? But I am only a brother to her yet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> Don't try to win more
+just now for me, lest she should give me less."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course, you know your own affairs best. But it is totally
+incomprehensible to me."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice leaned his head upon his hands. He had had a miserable day, and
+was feeling broken down and wretched. He spoke hopefully, but in his
+heart he doubted whether it would not be better to give Lucia up at once
+and altogether, only he had a strong suspicion that to give her up was
+not a thing within the power of his will.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+
+<p>The evening passed in constraint and embarrassment. Mrs. Costello was
+both puzzled and annoyed; Maurice, worn out in mind and body, and only
+resolute to shield Lucia at his own expense; Lucia herself more
+thoroughly uncomfortable than she had ever been in her life. She partly
+understood Maurice's conduct, but doubted its motives. Sometimes she
+thought he was influenced by his old dislike to Percy, and that even his
+kindness to herself was mixed with disapproval or contempt. Sometimes a
+suspicion of the truth, so faint and so unreasonable in her own eyes,
+that she would not acknowledge it for a moment, flashed across her mind;
+and this suspicion had its keenly humiliating<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> as well as its comforting
+side. Besides the confusion of thoughts regarding these things, her mind
+was burdened with an entirely new trouble&mdash;the sense that she was
+concealing something from her mother; and this alone would have been
+quite sufficient to disturb and distress her.</p>
+
+<p>So the three who had been so happy for the last few weeks sat together,
+with all their content destroyed. Maurice thought bitterly of the old
+Canadian days, which had been happy, too, and to which Percy's coming
+had brought trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the same thing over again," he said to himself; "but why such a
+fellow as that should be allowed to do so much mischief is a problem <i>I</i>
+can't solve. A tall idiot, who could not even care for her like a man!"</p>
+
+<p>But he would not allow himself any hard thoughts of Lucia. Perhaps he
+had had some during his solitary day, but he had no real cause for them,
+and he was too loyal to find any consolation in blaming her. And it
+never would have come into his head to solace himself with the "having
+known <i>me</i>." He valued his own honest, unaltering love at a reasonable
+but not an excessive, price&mdash;himself at a very low one; and as Lucia
+understood nothing of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> one, he did not wonder that she should slight
+the other. And yet he was very miserable.</p>
+
+<p>Ten o'clock came at last, and he went away. After he was gone, Lucia
+came to her mother's knee, and sat down, resting her aching head against
+the arm of the chair. The old attitude, and the soft clinging touch,
+completely thawed the slight displeasure in Mrs. Costello's heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Something is wrong, darling," she said. "If you do not want to tell me,
+or think you ought not, remember I do not ask any questions; but you
+have never had a secret from me."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia raised her mother's hand, and laid it on her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to tell you, mamma," she said, "and I want to; but yet I don't
+like."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"You will be so angry; no, not that, perhaps, but you will be shocked,
+and yet I could not help it."</p>
+
+<p>"Help what? Do you know, Lucia, that you are really trying me now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, no! I am not worth caring so much about."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you and Maurice quarrelled?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Maurice! No, indeed. He is the best friend anybody ever had."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, do you remember what happened that first night at Cacouna?"</p>
+
+<p>"What first night?" Mrs. Costello pressed her hand upon her heart, which
+began to beat painfully.</p>
+
+<p>"The night when you told me about my father."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I remember. Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"And the next day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Don't tell me that you still regret it."</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, I have seen him again."</p>
+
+<p>"To-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-day. At the chapel of St. Ferdinand."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he know you? Did you speak to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He did not see us. He was thinking nothing of me."</p>
+
+<p>"He ought not to think of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I of him. He is married."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew that he either was, or was about to be."</p>
+
+<p>"You have heard of him, then, since?" Lucia raised her head sharply, and
+looked at her mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Bellairs told me. They had heard it indirectly."</p>
+
+<p>"If you had only told me!" Her head sank lower than before.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling, I may have been mistaken. I have been so, many times; but I
+wished to avoid mentioning him to you. I hoped you were forgetting."</p>
+
+<p>"Never; never for an hour," she said, half to herself. "No, mamma, for I
+thought he had not forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>"But you sent him away yourself, my child. Remember, you would not even
+let me see him. He could not have supposed that you meant your answer to
+be anything but decisive."</p>
+
+<p>"I did mean it to be decisive; but he refused to take it so. He said,
+'Perhaps in a year;' and it is not a year yet."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello listened in utter surprise. Lucia had much to say now.
+Broken words and sentences, which showed, by degrees, how her mind, as
+it recovered from the shock of other troubles, had gone back to dwell
+upon the hope of Percy's return, and which explained more fully why she
+had been so utterly blind to the schemes which were formed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> around her.
+In one point only she failed. She did not, with all her own faith in it,
+convey to her mother the impression of Percy's real earnestness in their
+last interview. That he had really loved her, she still believed; but
+she did not at all understand his shallow and easily-influenced
+character. Mrs. Costello, on the other hand, was predisposed to take the
+worst view, and to congratulate herself upon it, since it had helped to
+leave Lucia free. But not believing that the poor girl had been the
+object of a genuine, though transient passion, she for once was ready to
+judge her hardly, and to accuse her of having been wilfully and
+foolishly deceived.</p>
+
+<p>There was a bitter pang to the mother's heart in thinking this; but the
+recollections of her own youth made the idea the less improbable to her,
+and made her also the gentler, even in her injustice. She said not a
+word of blame, but coaxed from her child the story of the meeting that
+morning, that she might find out how much Maurice had seen or heard of
+the truth. He understood <i>all</i>. Lucia said so frankly, though she
+blushed at the confession; he had not needed to be told, and he had been
+so good!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello could have groaned aloud. It needed an effort to keep
+still, and not express the anger and impatience she felt. Maurice!
+Maurice, who was worth fifty Percys! Maurice, who was devoted heart and
+soul to this girl; who had been content to love her and wait for her,
+through good and evil fortune, through change and absence and silence,
+and, after all, she had no feeling for him but this heartless kind of
+gratitude! Because at the very last, when he had thought her certainly
+his own, he had endured, out of his great love, to see all his hopes
+swept away, and her grieving for his rival; therefore he had just so
+much claim upon her&mdash;"He was so good!"</p>
+
+<p>There was little more said. When once Lucia had told her story, and when
+Mrs. Costello had discovered that Maurice understood all, neither of
+them cared to talk on the subject. They went to bed with a cloud between
+them, after all. Mrs. Costello kept her secret still, and pondered over
+the question whether there might yet possibly be hope, since Maurice had
+said he had only deferred his wishes, not relinquished them. Lucia was
+aware that her trouble was still her own exclusively&mdash;not shared by any
+one, even her mother. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> thought of Percy&mdash;she longed to know how long
+he had thought of her&mdash;how, and why he had changed; and deep down in her
+heart there was a little disturbed wondering at Maurice's
+tenderness&mdash;that very tenderness which Mrs. Costello marvelled she did
+not see.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice did not see his cousin that night. He went straight to his room,
+and without thinking, locked the door, put out the candles except one,
+and sat down in the gloom. His eyes and head ached&mdash;he felt weary and
+utterly dispirited. He had rushed away that morning after leaving Lucia
+at home, and found himself by the merest chance at St. Denis. He had got
+out there because his fellow-passengers did so, though at the railway
+station he had taken a ticket for a place much further on along the
+line. He had looked about the little town, and seen, in a blind
+blundering kind of way, the Cathedral. He had come out, with about
+half-a-dozen more visitors, and seeing an omnibus starting for Paris,
+had got into it, because it would take longer than the train&mdash;then after
+a while had got out again, because he could not bear the slow motion and
+perpetual babble of talk inside. But through all, and still more in his
+solitary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> walk, he had been thinking&mdash;thinking perpetually; and, after
+all, his thinking seemed yet to do. He would go back to England&mdash;that
+was necessary and right, whatever else might be. He was wanted there, as
+the pile of letters on his writing-table could testify. His father, too,
+was solitary at Hunsdon&mdash;and his business in Paris was over. But the
+Dightons would not go for some days, and he could not very well leave
+them after they had come over for his sake. He would have to stay,
+therefore, till they went; he would have to go on seeing the Costellos.
+He tried to fancy he was sorry for this, but the attempt was a very poor
+one. For a few days he would have to go on just as usual, and after that
+he would go home, and do what? That was just the question.</p>
+
+<p>Ought he to go on hoping now? Had not he done all he could do? Was it
+probable that a girl who had loved another man&mdash;and that man,
+Percy&mdash;faithfully for a whole year on the mere possibility that he might
+have remained faithful to her, and who had been throughout blind and
+insensible to a regard deeper and purer than his had ever been, would be
+able to transfer her heart whole and undivided as he must have it if he
+had it at all? He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> dared not think it. "No, I have lost her at last!" he
+said to himself, "and she is the one only woman in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Then he remembered, as if the reminder had been whispered in his ear, a
+promise he had made. It was one day during Mr. Beresford's illness, when
+his mind was a little clearer than usual. He had been trying feebly to
+return to his old interests, and speaking in his weak broken tones,
+about the future. He grew very tired after awhile, and Maurice persuaded
+him to try to sleep, but there was yet another thing to be said.</p>
+
+<p>"You must marry soon, Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"I am young, sir, there is no hurry."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;only let it be soon."</p>
+
+<p>"I must first find the lady."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I could have helped you&mdash;but it is too late." Maurice was
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>will</i> marry?" and the old man tried to raise himself in his
+earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk of hoping&mdash;it is a duty, positive duty."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean to do so, then, grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"Say 'I will'&mdash;promise me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If I both hope and intend it, sir, is that not enough?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. Promise."</p>
+
+<p>"Well then, I promise."</p>
+
+<p>The invalid was satisfied, and in a few minutes dropped asleep, and the
+conversation almost passed from his grandson's mind.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, he remembered it, as having bound him to something which
+might be a lifelong misery. He was young still; as he had said, there
+was time enough. But would any time make Lucia other than the first with
+him?</p>
+
+<p>At last he got up and began to pace up and down the room, pushing first
+one, and then another article of furniture aside to make room for his
+walk.</p>
+
+<p>"There is at least no further reason why she should not know all" he
+meditated. "Since my chance is gone, I cannot make matters worse by
+speaking, and it will be a relief to tell her." He paused, dwelling on
+the idea of his speaking and her listening&mdash;how differently from what he
+had thought of before&mdash;and then went on&mdash;"To-morrow is as good as any
+other time. To-morrow I will ask her to go out with me again&mdash;our last
+walk together."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped again. At last he grew tired even of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> his own thoughts. He
+lighted his candles again, and sat down to write letters. First to his
+father, to say that he was coming home, to give him all the news, to
+speak just as usual of the Costellos&mdash;even specially of Lucia; then to
+his agent, and to other people, till the streets began to grow noisy and
+the candles to burn dim in the dawn.</p>
+
+<p>Then he lay down, and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Maurice was scarcely awake next morning when a little note was brought
+him from his cousin. It was only two or three lines written late the
+night before, when she found that he did not come to their common
+sitting-room. It said, "What has come to all the world? I go to Mrs.
+Costello's, and find Lucia with a violent headache, and with her ideas
+apparently much confused. I come home, and hear and see nothing of you
+till night, when I am told you have gone to your room without stopping
+for a moment to satisfy my curiosity. You will be at breakfast? I want
+to see you. <span class="smcap">Louisa</span>."</p>
+
+<p>He twisted the dainty sheet of paper round his fingers, while he slowly
+recalled the events of yester<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>day up to the point of his last decision,
+to see Lucia to-day and tell her how grievously he had been
+disappointed, and what she had been and still was to him. But then came
+the natural consequence of this; he would still, afterwards, have to
+meet both Lucia and her mother constantly for some days, and to behave
+to them just as usual. It had seemed to him already that to do so would
+be difficult; now he began to think it impossible. What to do then? To
+keep silence now and always, or to speak and then go away home, where he
+was needed? He must lose her sweet company&mdash;sweet to him still. He
+<i>must</i> lose it, and what matter whether a few days sooner or later? It
+was better to see her once again, and go.</p>
+
+<p>He dressed hastily and went to the breakfast-room. Sir John always took
+an early stroll, and might not yet be back; was not, in fact, and Lady
+Dighton was there alone. Maurice only saw so much before he began to
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," he said, "that you expected me last night. I came in very
+tired, and went straight to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"We waited dinner some time for you," Lady Dighton answered, "and you
+know how punctual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> Sir John is; but never mind now. You are looking ill,
+Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite well. I am afraid I must go back to England though. Should
+you think me a barbarian if I started to-night and left you behind?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is something wrong? Your father is well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite well. But&mdash;I had letters last night. I am not certain that I must
+go, only I thought you ought to know at once that I might have to do
+so."</p>
+
+<p>"And Lucia? What will she say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. You will not tell her, please?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not. I do not like carrying bad news. But you will see her no
+doubt before I do."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice hesitated a moment, and then made boldly a request which had
+been in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see her. I should like to see her this morning if I could.
+Will you help me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't generally require help for that. But I suppose the fact is,
+you want to see her alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly."</p>
+
+<p>"I own I fancied you had settled your affairs yesterday; however, I
+<i>can</i> help you, I think. Mrs. Costello half promised to go out with me
+some morning. I will go and try to carry her off to-day."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are always kind, Louisa. What should I do without you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that is very pretty just now. By-and-by we shall see how much value
+you have for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you shall see."</p>
+
+<p>"But seriously, Maurice, you look wretched. One would say you had not
+slept for a week."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, I slept later than usual to-day. It is that, I
+suppose, which makes me look dull. Here is Sir John. What time will your
+drive be?"</p>
+
+<p>They fixed the time, and as soon as breakfast was finished, Maurice went
+back to his room. He tore up the letters he had written last night, and
+wrote others announcing his return home, took them to the post himself,
+and then walked about in sheer inability to keep still, until it should
+be time to go to Mrs. Costello's.</p>
+
+<p>He made a tolerably long round, choosing always the noisiest, busiest
+streets, and came back to the hotel just as his cousin drove away. He
+followed her carriage, and passed it as it stood at Mrs. Costello's
+door, went on to the barrier, and coming back, found that it had
+disappeared. Now, therefore, probably Mrs. Costello was gone, and now,
+if ever, was his opportunity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When Claudine opened the door for "ce beau monsieur" she was aghast. He
+was positively "beau" no longer. He was pale and heavy-eyed. He actually
+seemed to have grown thinner. Even his frank smile and word of
+wonderfully English French had failed him. She went back to her kitchen
+in consternation. "Ce pauvre monsieur! C'est affreux! Something is wrong
+with him and mademoiselle. Ma foi, if <i>I</i> had such a lover!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello was gone, and Lucia sat alone, and very dreary. At
+Maurice's entrance she rose quickly; but kept her eyes averted so that
+his paleness did not strike her as it had done others. She coloured
+vividly, with a mixture of shame, pride, and gladness, at his coming;
+but she only said "Good morning," in a low undemonstrative tone, and
+they both sat down in silence.</p>
+
+<p>She had some little piece of work in her hands, but she did not go on
+with it, only kept twisting the thread round her fingers, and wondering
+what he would say; whether now that they were alone, he would refer to
+Percy; whether he would use his old privilege of blaming her when she
+did wrong.</p>
+
+<p>But she was not struck down helplessly now as she had been at first
+yesterday. She had begun to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> feel the stings of mortified pride, and was
+ready to turn fiercely upon anybody who should give her provocation.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>"I came to say good-bye," he said. "I am obliged to go home."</p>
+
+<p>His words sounded curt and dry, just because he had such difficulty in
+making them steady at all, and she looked at him in her surprise, for
+the first time.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-day? Is anything the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing is the matter there. I told you I had business in Paris. Well,
+it is finished."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are going to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I start this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"We shall miss you."</p>
+
+<p>She felt a strange constraint creeping over her. She could not even
+express naturally her sorrow and disappointment at his going. She began
+again to have the feeling of being guilty, and accused, and being eager
+to defend herself without knowing how.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not be far off, and you will know where to find me. When you
+want me, for whatever reason, you have only to write and I will come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But I always want you," she answered half pettishly. "You said you
+would stay at least till Lady Dighton went away."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice got up and walked to the window.</p>
+
+<p>"I miscalculated," he said, coming back. "We all do sometimes, I
+suppose."</p>
+
+<p>He stood in a favourite attitude, leaning with one arm on the
+mantelpiece, and watching Lucia with a mixture of love and bitterness.
+His last words seemed to her a taunt, and tears of anger filled her
+eyes. She remained silent, and he had to speak again.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you care to know," he asked her, "what my business in Paris was?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you wish to tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia! do not I wish to tell you everything? Could I have kept a secret
+which was always in my thoughts from you, do you suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucia half rose. "That is not generous," she said. "You have no right to
+speak so. Yesterday you were kinder."</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday I only thought of you. To-day I have had time to think a
+little of myself."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt you are right. Only you ought not to have come to Paris&mdash;at
+least not to us. It would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> have been better if everything that belonged
+to our old life had been lost together."</p>
+
+<p>"Which means that you are quite willing to lose me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Willing? No. But I can understand that it is better."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you? You talk of losses&mdash;listen to what I have lost. You know what
+my life in Canada used to be&mdash;plenty of work, and not much money&mdash;but
+still reasonable hope of prosperity by-and-by. I used to make plans
+then, of having a home of my own, and I was not content that it should
+be just like other people's. I thought it would be the brightest,
+warmest, happiest home in the world. I <i>knew</i> it would be if I only got
+what I wanted. A man can't have a home without a wife. I knew where my
+wife was to be found if ever I had one at all; and she was so sweet and
+good, and let me see so frankly that she liked and trusted me, that
+I&mdash;it was all vanity, Lucia&mdash;I never much doubted that in time I should
+make her love me."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped. Lucia was looking at him eagerly. Even yet she did not quite
+understand. "Go on," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There was my mistake," he continued. "I might have won her then
+perhaps. But there came a visitor to the neighbourhood. He was
+handsome&mdash;at least women said so&mdash;and could make himself agreeable. He
+knew all about what people call the world&mdash;he had plenty of talk about
+all sorts of small topics. He was a very fine gentleman in fact, and you
+know what I was. Well, naturally enough, he wanted amusement. He looked
+about for it, I suppose, and was attracted by what had attracted
+me&mdash;no&mdash;I do not believe even that, for I loved her goodness, and he
+must have been caught by her beauty. At any rate, I had to go away and
+leave him near her; and I heard after a while that he was gone. That was
+late in autumn. Very early this year, I heard of his marriage; and I
+thought she had been unharmed.</p>
+
+<p>"My grandfather died, and I was rich enough to make that home I dreamed
+of, fit for its mistress. I went to find her. I found her, as I thought,
+lovelier and sweeter than ever. She seemed to feel more than ever that I
+was of some use and value to her&mdash;she made me believe that, next to her
+mother, she loved me best in the world. I delayed asking her to be my
+wife, only because our days<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> were so happy, that I feared to disturb
+them&mdash;but I thought she was certainly mine.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, all at once, this man, this Percy, who had left her in her
+trouble&mdash;who was married&mdash;made his appearance, and I knew that she had
+loved him all the while&mdash;that she had never cared for me!"</p>
+
+<p>Long ago, Lucia had clasped her hands before her face. She sat trembling
+and cowering before this accuser. Involuntarily she said in her heart,
+"This is the true love. I have been blind&mdash;blind!"&mdash;but her words were
+frozen up&mdash;she bent forward as if under a blow&mdash;but made no sound.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice himself remained silent for a few minutes. He had spoken under a
+strong impulse of excitement, he hardly knew how. He, too, leaned his
+head upon his hand, but from under it he still watched the trembling
+girlish figure, which was the dearest thing in the world to him.
+Presently he saw a tear steal out from between her small fingers and
+fall glittering upon the black dress she wore. He moved uneasily&mdash;he had
+been surely very harsh. Another tear fell&mdash;tear of bitter humiliation,
+good for her to shed&mdash;then a third. He could not endure it. She might
+not love him, but that was no reason why he should turn her sisterly
+affection into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> hate. So he went to her, and laid his hand softly on one
+of hers, trying to draw it away. She let him do so after a moment, but
+her face remained just as much hidden.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia!" he said, full of distress, "Lucia! speak to me."</p>
+
+<p>She could not&mdash;all her efforts were needed to keep down the painful
+swelling in her throat. She was fighting for power to say humbly, "Try
+to forgive me," but he did not give her time.</p>
+
+<p>"If you would only say good-bye&mdash;only one word;" and he almost knelt
+beside her, raising her cold hand half-unconsciously to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>She drew it away suddenly. His tenderness was the worst reproach of all.
+Her sobs burst out without control. She rose. "No; rather forgive me,"
+she tried to say, but her voice was choked and hardly audible; and she
+fled from the room, hurrying into her own, and fell down on the floor at
+the bedside.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice waited for awhile, thinking she might come back. He sat down
+near where her chair stood, and leaning both elbows on the table, tried
+to calm himself after the terrible excitement. Lucia's tears and her
+silence had utterly disarmed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> him&mdash;he called himself a brute for having
+distressed her. But as time went on, and she did not return, he
+remembered that he could not just then meet Mrs. Costello, and he got up
+and began to walk about the room uneasily. Still, time went on, and
+there was no sign of Lucia. He wished to knock at her door, but dared
+not. He must go then without one good-bye!</p>
+
+<p>"That is my own fault at any rate," he said, and went away softly,
+without even seeing Claudine.</p>
+
+<p>But, as it happened, Mrs. Costello was long coming back. Lady Dighton
+had confided to her Maurice's wish to see Lucia alone, and the two
+ladies, very happy and confidential over their schemes, both supposing
+that nothing but good could come of a long talk between the young
+people&mdash;prolonged their absence till more than two hours after Maurice
+had returned to the hotel. So that his preparations for leaving Paris
+were almost completed by the time that Lucia, hearing her mother's
+entrance, came out of the solitude where she had hidden her tears and
+her repentance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Lucia tried to hide the traces of her tears, but the attempt was not
+particularly successful. Mrs. Costello saw at once that something was
+wrong; she asked whether Maurice had been there, and was told briefly
+yes, but she delayed any other questions for two reasons. One was, that
+merely saying that "Yes" had brought a quiver over Lucia's face, and the
+other, that she herself was tired and had got into a habit of dreading
+any kind of excitement. She felt a presentiment that there was nothing
+pleasant to hear, and at the same time was quite sure that whatever
+there was, her daughter would be unable to keep long from her.</p>
+
+<p>She allowed Lucia to carry away her bonnet and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> shawl, and arrange her
+comfortably on the sofa for a rest. Then she began to describe her
+drive, and the shops at which Lady Dighton had been making various
+purchases. Lucia listened, and tried to be interested, and to lose the
+sense of shame and mortification mixed with real compunction, which was
+making her wretched. But her heart ached, and besides, she had cried,
+sitting all alone on her bedroom floor, till she was exhausted and half
+blind. All the while her mother talked, she kept thinking of
+Maurice&mdash;she neither called him "Poor Maurice," in her thoughts, nor
+"Dear Maurice"&mdash;but only "Maurice, Maurice," over and over again&mdash;her
+friend who was gone from her, whom she had justly lost.</p>
+
+<p>But when she was growing more and more absorbed in her own regrets, and
+her mother's voice was beginning to sound to her like one in a dream,
+there came a sudden sharp ring at the door-bell. Could it be Maurice?
+She grew red as fire while she listened&mdash;but the door opened and shut,
+and there were no steps but Claudine's in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>The maid came in. "A letter for madame, and a packet for
+mademoiselle,"&mdash;both directed by Maurice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lucia took hers to the window. She scarcely dared to open it, but she
+feared to appear to hesitate. Slowly she broke the seals, and found a
+tiny morocco case and a note. She hardly looked at the case, the note
+would be Maurice's farewell, and she did not know whether it would bring
+reproach or forgiveness with it. It was not long&mdash;even with her dazzled
+eyes, she was not more than a minute reading it.</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p style="margin-top: 2em;">"My dear old playfellow and pupil"&mdash;it began&mdash;"I cannot leave Paris
+without saying 'Good-bye,' and asking you to forgive me, not for what I
+said this morning, but for the way in which I said it. If you cannot
+love me (and I understand now that you cannot) it is not your fault; and
+I ought to have remembered that, even when it seemed hardest. I cannot
+stay here now; but you will recollect that if ever you <i>want</i> me&mdash;as a
+friend or brother, you know&mdash;a single line will be enough to bring me to
+your help. Finally, I beg of you, for the sake of old times, to wear the
+ring I send. I bought it for you&mdash;you ought to have no scruple in
+accepting a keepsake from your oldest friend,</p>
+
+<p class='author'><span class="smcap">Maurice Leigh</span>."</p></blockquote>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In the little box was the ring bought so long ago in Liverpool. It
+flashed, as if with the light of living eyes, as Lucia opened the lid.
+She regarded it for a moment almost with fear, then took it out and
+placed it on her finger&mdash;the third finger of her left hand. It fitted
+perfectly, and seemed to her like the embodiment of a watchful guardian
+who would keep her from wrong and from evil. She fancied this, though
+just then two or three drops fell heavily from her eyes, and one rested
+for a moment on the very diamonds themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello's note was longer than Lucia's, and she read it twice
+over, before she was sure that she comprehended it. Then she called
+sharply "Lucia!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come here," she said, as the girl turned her face reluctantly; and
+there was nothing to do but to obey. Lucia came to the side of the sofa,
+where her mother had raised herself up against the cushions, but she
+trembled so, that to steady herself she dropped down on her knees on a
+footstool. Her right arm rested on the table, but the other hand, where
+the ring was, lay hidden in the folds of her dress.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What does this mean, Lucia?" Mrs. Costello asked in a tone which she
+had never in her life used to her daughter before. "Are you out of your
+senses?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucia was silent. She could almost have said yes.</p>
+
+<p>"You know of course that Maurice is gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes I know it," she answered just audibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Gone, and not likely to return?"</p>
+
+<p>"He tells me so."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you said to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing! That is absurd. Why did he wish to see you alone to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"To tell <i>me</i> something," Lucia said with a little flash of opposition
+awakened by her mother's anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I thought so. To tell you something which, to any girl in the
+world who was not inconceivably blind or inconceivably vain, would have
+been the best news she ever heard in her life. And you said <i>nothing</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, it is over. I can't help it."</p>
+
+<p>"So he says&mdash;he, who is not much in the habit of talking nonsense, says
+this to me. Just listen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> 'We have both made the mistake of reasoning
+about a thing with which reason has nothing to do. I see the error now
+too late for myself, but not, I hope, too late to leave her in peace.
+Pray do not speak to her about it at all.' But it is my duty to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, Maurice is right. It is too late."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not too late for him to get some little justice; and it is not
+too late for you to know what you have lost."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I do know," she cried out. "But even if there had been no other
+reason, how could I have been different? He never told me till to-day."
+And she clasped her two hands together on the edge of the table and hid
+her face on them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello leaned a little more forward, and touched her daughter's
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"I must speak to you about this, Lucia," she said. "I do not want to be
+harsh, but you ought to know what you have done. And, good heavens! for
+what? A stranger, a mere coxcomb comes in your way, and you listen to
+his fine words, and straight begin to be able to see nothing but him,
+though the most faithful, generous heart a girl ever had offered to her
+is in your very hand! <i>I</i> was bad enough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>&mdash;but I had no such love as
+Maurice's to leave behind me."</p>
+
+<p>Again Lucia moved, without speaking. As she did so, the ring on her hand
+flashed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that on your finger?" Mrs. Costello asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice's ring. <i>He</i> was not so hard on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Hard?" Mrs. Costello was pressing her hand more and more tightly to her
+side. "Child, it is you that have been hard with your unconscious ways."</p>
+
+<p>But Lucia had found power to speak at last.</p>
+
+<p>"After all," she said obstinately, "I neither see why I should be
+supposed to have done wrong, nor why anybody else should be spoken of
+so. It is no harm, and no shame," she went on, raising her head, and
+showing her burning cheeks, "for a girl to like somebody who cares very
+much for her; and I think she would be a poor creature if she did not go
+on caring for him as long as she believed he was true to her."</p>
+
+<p>The little spark of pride died out with the last words, and there was a
+faint quiver in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice would say so himself," she ended, triumphantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course he would. But I don't see that Maurice would be a fair judge
+of the case. The question is, what does a girl deserve who has to choose
+between Maurice and Percy, and chooses Percy?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucia recoiled. She could hardly yet bear to hear the name she had been
+dreaming over so long spoken in so harsh a way, and still less to hear
+it coupled in this way with Maurice's.</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice will soon find somebody else," she said. "He is not a poor man,
+mamma, that he should mind so much."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello half rose from the sofa. Pain and anger together
+overpowered her. She stood up for a moment, trying to speak, and then
+suddenly fell back, fainting.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia sprang from her knees. Was her mother dead? It was possible, she
+knew. Had they parted for ever in anger? But the idea, from its very
+horror, did not affect her as a lighter fear might have done. She
+brought remedies, and called Claudine to help her, in a kind of calm.
+They tried all they could think of, and at last there came some feeble
+return of life. But the agitation and fatigue of the day had been too
+much for such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> strength as hers to rally from. One fainting fit
+succeeded another, with scarcely a moment's interval.</p>
+
+<p>All evening it was the same. A doctor came, and stayed till the attacks
+ceased; but when he went away, his patient lay, white and almost
+unconscious even of Lucia's presence. It was terrible sitting there by
+the bedside, and watching for every slight movement&mdash;for the hope of a
+word or a smile. It was consolation unspeakable when, late at night,
+Mrs. Costello opened her eyes, free from the bewildered look of
+suffering, and, seeing her child's pale face beside her, put out her
+hand, and said softly, "My poor Lucia!"</p>
+
+<p>After that she dropped asleep, and Lucia watched till early morning. It
+was the first of such watches she had ever kept, and the awful stillness
+made her tremble. Often she got up from her seat to see if her mother's
+breathing still really went on; it seemed difficult to believe that
+there was any stir whatever of life in the room. In those long hours,
+too, she had time to revert to the doings of the past day&mdash;to remember
+both Maurice's words and her mother's, and to separate, to some degree,
+the truth from all exaggeration. Her mind seemed to go back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> also, with
+singular clearness, to the time of Percy's coming to Cacouna, and even
+earlier. She began to comprehend the significance of trifles, which had
+seemed insignificant at the time, and to believe in the truth of what
+Maurice had told her, that even then he was building all his hopes on
+the possibility of her loving him. She wondered at herself now, as
+others had wondered at her; but she still justified herself: "He was my
+brother&mdash;my dearest friend. <i>He</i>," and this time she did not mean
+Maurice, "was the first person who ever put any other ideas into my
+head. And I have lost them both." But already the true love had so far
+gained its rights, that it was Maurice, far more than Percy, of whose
+loss she thought. Once that night, when she had sat quite without moving
+for a long time, and when her meditations had grown more and more
+dreary, she suddenly raised her hand, and her ring flashed out in the
+gloom. By some instinct she put it to her lips; it seemed to her a
+symbol of regard and protecting care, which comforted her strangely.</p>
+
+<p>When the night was past, and Claudine came early in the morning to take
+Lucia's place, Mrs. Costello still slept; and the poor child, quite worn
+out&mdash;pale and shivering in the cold dawn&mdash;was glad to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> creep away to
+bed, and to her heavy but troubled slumber.</p>
+
+<p>All that day the house was kept silent and shut up. Mrs. Costello had
+been much tried, the doctor thought, and needed a complete calm in which
+to recover herself. With her old habit of self-command she understood
+this, and remained still, almost without speaking, till some degree of
+strength should return. Lucia tended her with the most anxious care, and
+kept her troubled thoughts wholly to herself.</p>
+
+<p>About two o'clock Lady Dighton came. Hearing that Mrs. Costello was ill,
+she begged to see Lucia, who came to her, looking weary and worn, but
+longing to hear of Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed, however, as if she were not to be gratified. Lady Dighton was
+full of concern and kind offers of assistance, but she said nothing of
+her cousin until just as she went away. Then she did say, "You know that
+Maurice left us yesterday evening? I miss him dreadfully; but I dare say
+he thinks much more of whether other people miss him."</p>
+
+<p>She went, and they were alone again. So alone, as they had never been
+while Maurice was in Paris,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> when he might come in at any moment and
+bring a cheerful breath from the outer world into their narrow and
+feminine life,&mdash;as he would never come again! 'Oh,' Lucia thought, 'why
+could not he be our friend always&mdash;just our own Maurice as he used to
+be&mdash;and not have these miserable fancies? We might have been so happy!'</p>
+
+<p>Towards night Mrs. Costello had greatly revived. She was able to sit up
+a little, and to talk much as usual. She did not allude at all to her
+last conversation with her daughter, and Lucia herself dared not renew
+so exciting a subject. But all anger seemed to have entirely passed away
+from between them. They were completely restored to their old natural
+confidence and tenderness; and that was a comfort which Lucia's terror
+of last night made exquisitely sweet to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Two or three days passed before its former tranquillity was restored to
+the apartment in the Champs Elys&eacute;es. Its "<i>former</i> tranquillity,"
+indeed, did not seem to come back at all. There were new elements of
+discomfort and disturbance at work, even more than in the days before
+Maurice came, and when Mrs. Costello both feared and hoped for his
+coming. He was never mentioned now, except during Lady Dighton's daily
+visit. She, much mystified, and not sure whether Lucia was to be pitied
+or blamed, was too kind-hearted not to sympathize with her anxiety for
+her mother, and she therefore came constantly&mdash;first to inquire for, and
+then to sit with Mrs. Costello, insisting that Lucia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> should take that
+opportunity of going out in her carriage.</p>
+
+<p>These drives gave the poor child not only fresh air, but also a short
+interval each day in which she could be natural, and permit herself the
+indulgence of the depression which had taken possession of her. She felt
+certain that her mother, though she treated her with her usual
+tenderness, still felt surprised and disappointed by her conduct.
+Maurice also, who had been always so patient, so indulgent, had gone
+away in trouble through her; he had reproached her, perhaps justly, and
+had given up for ever their old intimacy. She was growing more and more
+miserable. If ever, for a moment, she forgot her burden, some little
+incident was sure to occur which brought naturally to her lips the
+words, 'I wish Maurice were here;' and she would turn sick with the
+thought, 'He never will be here again, and it is my fault.'</p>
+
+<p>So the days went on till the Dightons left Paris. They did so without
+any clear understanding having reached Lady Dighton's mind of the state
+of affairs between Maurice and Lucia. All she actually knew was that
+Maurice had been obliged to go home unexpectedly, and that ever since he
+went Lucia<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> had looked like a ghost. And as this conjunction of
+circumstances did not appear unfavourable to her cousin's wishes, and as
+she had no hint of those wishes having been given up, she was quite
+disposed to continue to regard Lucia as the future mistress of Hunsdon.</p>
+
+<p>However, she was not sorry to leave Paris. Her visit there, with regard
+to its principal object, had been rather unsatisfactory; at all events
+it had had no visible results, and she liked results. She wanted to go
+home and see how Maurice reigned at Hunsdon, and tell her particular
+friends about the beautiful girl she hoped some day to have the pleasure
+of patronizing.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello had regained nearly her usual health. One day, shortly
+after the Dightons left, she asked Lucia to bring her desk, saying that
+she must write to Mr. Wynter, and that it was time they should make some
+different arrangement, since, as they had long ago agreed, Paris was too
+expensive for them to stay there all the year.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia remembered what Maurice had said to her about her mother returning
+to England, but the consciousness of what had really been in his mind at
+the moment stopped her just as she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> about to speak. She brought the
+desk, and said only,</p>
+
+<p>"Have you thought of any place, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought of two or three, but none please me," Mrs. Costello
+answered. "We want a cheap place&mdash;one within easy reach of England, and
+one not too much visited by tourists. It is not very easy to find a
+place with all the requisites."</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed. But you are not able to travel yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes I am. Indeed, it is necessary we should go soon, if not
+immediately."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia sighed. She would be sorry to leave Paris. Meantime her mother had
+opened the desk, but before beginning to write she took out a small
+packet of letters, and handed them to Lucia. "I will give these to you,"
+she said, "for you have the greatest concern with them, though they were
+not meant for your eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia looked at the packet and recognized Maurice's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Ought I to read them, then?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Nay, I desire that you will read them carefully. Yes,
+Lucia," she went on in a softer tone, "I wish you to know all that has
+been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> hidden from you. Take those notes and keep them. When you are an
+old woman you may be glad to remember that they were ever written."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia could not answer. She carried the packet away to her own chair,
+and sitting down, opened it and began to read. It was only Maurice's
+notes, written to Mrs. Costello from England, and they were many of them
+very hasty, impetuous, and not particularly well-expressed missives. But
+if they had been eloquence itself, they could not have stirred the
+reader's heart as they did. It was the simple bare fact of a great
+love&mdash;so much greater than she could ever have deserved, and yet passed
+by, disregarded, unperceived in her arrogant ignorance; this was what
+she seemed to see in them, and it wrung her heart with vain repentance
+and regret. And, as she bent over them there suddenly arose in her mind
+a doubt&mdash;a question which seemed to have very little to do with those
+letters, yet which they certainly helped to raise&mdash;had she ever loved
+Percy? Lucia was romantic. Like other romantic girls, she would formerly
+have said&mdash;indeed, she had said to herself many times&mdash;"I shall love him
+all my life&mdash;even if he forgets me I shall still love him." And yet now
+she was conscious&mdash;dimly, unwillingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> conscious, that she thought very
+little of him, and that even that little was not at all in the strain
+she would have felt to be proper in a deserted heroine of fiction. She
+was not the least likely to die of a broken heart for him; she was much
+more inclined to die for grief and shame at what had befallen Maurice.
+So that question, which was in itself a mortifying one, rose
+rebelliously in her mind&mdash;had she ever loved Percy? or had she been
+wasting her thoughts on a mere lay-figure, dressed up by her own fancy
+in attributes not at all belonging to it? Poor child! had she known how
+many women&mdash;and perhaps men also&mdash;do the very same, the idea might not
+have seemed quite so horrible to her.</p>
+
+<p>Horrible or not, she put it aside and went back to the letters. In the
+earlier ones there were many allusions which seemed almost to belong to
+a former existence, so utterly had her life changed since they were
+written. The bright days of last summer, before the first cloud came
+over her fortunes, seemed to return almost too vividly to her memory;
+she would have bargained away a year of her life to be able to regain
+the simple happiness of that time. It could never be done; she had
+suffered, and had done some good and much evil; the past was ended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> and
+put away for ever; she could not, for all she might give, again set
+herself</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"To the same key</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the remembered harmony."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>She closed the last letter of the little pile and put them carefully
+away. Already they seemed to her one of her most valuable possessions.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello had finished writing to her cousin. She was busy with
+Murray and a map of France; and when Lucia came back she called her.</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, I have half decided."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma. Where is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I cannot be sure. I must make some inquiries; but I think
+this will do&mdash;Bourg-Cailloux."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia looked where her mother's finger pointed on the map.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a seaport?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, with steamers sailing direct to England."</p>
+
+<p>"But in that case, will it not be in the way of tourists?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suspect not; I have looked what Murray says, and it is so little that
+it is pretty evident it is not much visited by the people who follow his
+guidance. Besides, I do not see what attraction the place can have
+except just the sea. It is an old fortified<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> town, with a market and
+considerable maritime trade&mdash;sends supplies of various kinds to London,
+and has handsome docks; from all which I conclude that business, and not
+pleasure, is the thing which takes people there."</p>
+
+<p>"Could you bear a noisy, busy town?"</p>
+
+<p>"After this I do not think we need fear the noise of any provincial
+town. In a very quiet place we should not have the direct communication
+with England, which is an object with me."</p>
+
+<p>"But, mamma, what need&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every need, for your sake as well as my own. We <i>must</i> be where, in
+case of emergency, you could quickly have help from England."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia trembled at her mother's words. She dared not disregard them after
+what had lately happened, but she could not discuss this aspect of the
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"I must find out about the journey," Mrs. Costello went on. "If it is
+not a very fatiguing one I believe I shall decide at once. We shall both
+be the better, in any case, for a little sea air."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall like it at all events. I have never seen the sea except during
+our voyage."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I used to be very fond of it. I believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> now, if I could get out to
+sit on the beach I should grow much stronger."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, you must. What is the name of the place? Here it
+is&mdash;Bourg-Cailloux. When do you think we can go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not before next week, certainly. Do not make up your mind to that
+place, for perhaps it may not suit us yet to go there."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia knelt down, and put her arms softly round her mother's waist.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear mother," she said slowly, "I wish you would go back to England."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello started. "To England?" she said, "you know quite well that
+it is impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"You would be glad to go, mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"Child, you do not know <i>how</i> glad I should be. To die and be buried
+among my own people!"</p>
+
+<p>"To go and live among them rather, mamma; Maurice put it into my head
+that you might."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke the last sentence timidly; after they had both so avoided
+Maurice's name, she half dreaded its effect on her mother. But Mrs.
+Costello only shook her head sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice thought of a different return from any that would be possible
+now. Possibly, if all had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> been as we wished&mdash;both he and I&mdash;I might
+have gone over to a part of England so far from the place I left. Say no
+more of it, dear," she added quickly, "let us make the best of what we
+have, and try to forget what we have not."</p>
+
+<p>She bent down and kissed her daughter as she spoke. But still these last
+few sentences had furnished a little fresh bitterness for Lucia's
+thoughts. Her mother's exile might have ended but for her.</p>
+
+<p>Bourg-Cailloux was next day fully decided on for their new residence.
+From the time of the decision Lucia began to be very busy in preparation
+for their journey, and for leaving the place where she had been too
+happy, and too miserable, not to have become attached to it. Claudine,
+too, had to be left behind with some regret, but they hoped to see Paris
+again the following year if all should be well. Early one morning they
+started off once again, a somewhat forlorn pair of travellers, and at
+three o'clock on a bright afternoon rattled over the rough pavements, on
+their way to the H&ocirc;tel des Bains at Bourg-Cailloux.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Summer came very early that year, and the narrow streets of
+Bourg-Cailloux were full of the glare and heat of the season. The
+pavements of white stones, always rough and painful to the feet, were
+burning hot in the middle of the day, and outside the walls, especially
+towards the sea, the light coloured, sandy roads were more scorching
+still. The H&ocirc;tel des Bains, just waking up after its winter repose, had
+proved but a comfortless dwelling. After two or three days, therefore,
+Mrs. Costello had left it, and she and Lucia were now settled in a
+lodging in the city itself. Their windows looked out on the "Place,"
+where a brave sea-captain, the hero of Bourg-Cailloux, stood in effigy,
+and still seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> keep watch over the place he had once defended, and
+where, twice a week, the market-women came in their long black cloaks
+and dazzling caps, and brought heaps of fragrant flowers and early
+fruit. In the very early morning, the shadow of a quaint old tower fell
+transversely upon the pavement of the square, and reached almost to
+their door; and in the evening Lucia grew fond of watching for the fire
+which was nightly lighted on the same tower that it might be a guide to
+sailors far out at sea. The town was quiet and dull&mdash;there was no
+theatre, no concerts, at present even no balls&mdash;the only public
+amusement of the population seemed to be listening in the still evenings
+to the band which played in front of the guard-house in the Place. There
+they came in throngs, and promenaded slowly over the sharp-edged stones,
+with a keen and visible enjoyment of the fresh air, the music, and each
+other's company, which was in itself a pleasant thing to see.</p>
+
+<p>The journey, the discomforts of the first few days, and the second
+moving, had tried Mrs. Costello extremely. She spent most of her time on
+the sofa now, and had as yet only been able once or twice to go down and
+sit for a while on the sunny beach,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> where children were playing and
+building sand castles, and where the sea breeze was sweet and reviving.</p>
+
+<p>There was a small colony of English people settled in the town, mostly
+people with small incomes and many children, or widows of poor
+gentlemen; but there was also a large floating population of English
+sailors, and for their benefit an English consul and chaplain, who
+supplied a temporal and spiritual leader to the community. But the
+mother and daughter kept much apart from their country people, who were
+inclined to be sociable and friendly towards them. Mrs. Costello's
+illness, and Lucia's preoccupation, made them receive with indifference
+the visits of those who, after seeing them at the little English church,
+and by the sea, thought it "only neighbourly to call."</p>
+
+<p>Their home arrangements were different to those they had made in Paris.
+Here they were really lodgers, and their landlady, Madame Everaert,
+waited on them. She was a fat, good natured, half Dutch widow, who took
+from the first a lively interest in the invalid mother, and in the
+daughter who would have been so handsome if she had been stouter and
+more rosy; and in a very little while she found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> that her new lodgers
+had one quality, which above all others gave them a claim on her good
+will, they were excellent listeners. Almost every evening in the
+twilight she would come herself to their sitting-room, with the lamp, or
+with some other errand for an excuse, and would stay chattering in her
+droll Flemish French for at least half an hour. This came to be one of
+the features of the day. Another was a daily walk, which Lucia had most
+frequently to take alone, but which always gave her either from the
+shore, or from the ramparts, a long sorrowful look over the sea towards
+England&mdash;towards Canada perhaps&mdash;or instead of either, to some far-away
+fairy country where there were no mistakes and no misunderstandings.</p>
+
+<p>Between these two&mdash;between morning and evening&mdash;time was almost a blank.
+Lucia had completely given up her habits of study. She did not even read
+novels, except aloud; and when she was not in some way occupied in
+caring for her mother, she sat hour after hour by the window, with a
+piece of crochet, which seemed a second Penelope's web, for it never was
+visibly larger one day than it had been the day before. Mrs. Costello
+gradually grew anxious as she perceived how dull and inanimate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> her
+daughter remained. She would almost have been glad of an excuse for
+giving her a gentle scolding, but Lucia's entire submission and
+sweetness of temper made it impossible. There seemed nothing to be done,
+but to try to force her into cheerful occupation, and to hope that time
+and her own good sense would do the rest. Hitherto they had had no
+piano; they got one, and for a day or two Lucia made a languid pretence
+of practising. But one day she was turning over her music, among which
+were a number of quaint old English songs and madrigals, which she and
+Maurice had jointly owned long ago at Cacouna, when she came upon one
+the words of which she had been used to laugh at, much to the annoyance
+of her fellow-singers. She had a half remembrance of them, and turned
+the pages to look if they were really so absurd. The music she knew
+well, and how the voices blended in the quaint pathetic harmony.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Out alas! my faith is ever true,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yet will she never rue,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor grant me any grace.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I sit and sigh, I weep, I faint, I die,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While she alone refuseth sympathy."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>She shut the music up, and would have said, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> anybody had asked her,
+that she had no patience with such foolish laments, even in poetry; but,
+nevertheless, the verse stayed in her memory, haunted her fancy
+perpetually, and seemed like a living voice in her ears&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Out alas! my faith is ever true."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>She cared no more for singing, for every song she liked was associated
+with Maurice, and each one seemed now to have the same burden; and when
+she played, it was no longer gay airs, or even the wonderful 'Morceaux
+de Salon,' of incredible noise and difficulty, which had been required
+of her as musical exhibitions, but always some melancholy andante or
+reverie which seemed to come to her fingers without choice or intention.</p>
+
+<p>One day when she had gone for her solitary walk, and Mrs. Costello all
+alone was lying on the sofa, trying to read, but really considering with
+some uneasiness the condition of their affairs, Madame Everaert knocked
+at the door.</p>
+
+<p>She brought with her a fresh bunch of flowers just bought in the market,
+but she was as usual overflowing with talk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is extremely hot," she said, fanning herself with her pocket
+handkerchief, "and I met mademoiselle going out. It is excessively hot."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello looked uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think it is too hot to be out?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No. Perhaps not. Certainly, mademoiselle has gone to the ramparts, and
+the walk there is not nearly so hot and fatiguing as down to the beach.
+Mademoiselle is very fond of the sea."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she enjoys it greatly. It is new to her."</p>
+
+<p>"One day, not long ago, I was coming along the top of the
+ramparts,&mdash;madame has not been there?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"There is a broad space on the top, and it is covered with soft green
+turf quite pleasant to sit down upon. Very few people pass, and you can
+see a long way out to sea. Well, one day I came along there, because
+upon the grass it was pleasanter walking than on the stones in the
+street, and I saw Mademoiselle Lucia who was sitting quite quiet,
+looking out far away. I came very near, but she never saw me. I thought
+I would speak to her just to say how beautiful the day was, and the air
+so sweet, when I saw just in time madame, that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> was crying. Great
+big tears were falling down on her hands, and she never seemed to feel
+them even. Mon Dieu, madame! I could hardly keep from crying myself, she
+looked so sad; but I went by softly, and she never saw me. Mademoiselle
+regrets England very much."</p>
+
+<p>"She has never been in England. She was born in Canada, and that, you
+know, is very far away."</p>
+
+<p>"In Canada! Is it possible? Does madame come from Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And it is in Canada our good father Paul has suffered so much! Oh, the
+terrible country!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should it be terrible? I have seen Father Paul, and he does not
+look as if he had suffered much."</p>
+
+<p>"Not now, Dieu merci. But long ago. Madame, he went to convert the
+savages&mdash;the Indians."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello started. Father Paul was a Jesuit priest&mdash;an old venerable
+man&mdash;old enough, as it flashed into her mind, to have been one of the
+Moose Island missionaries. Yet such an idea was improbable&mdash;there had no
+doubt been many other Jesuit missions besides the one where Christian
+had been trained.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you know where it was that he went?" she asked, after a moment's
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>"It was in Canada," Madame Everaert repeated, "and he lived among the
+savages; if madame is from Canada, she would know where the savages
+live."</p>
+
+<p>"There are very few savages now," Mrs. Costello answered with a smile.
+"I know where there used to be some&mdash;possibly that was the very place."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt. I shall tell the good father that madame knows it."</p>
+
+<p>"Stay. Don't be quite sure that it is the place. Canada is a very large
+country."</p>
+
+<p>"Still it is so singular that madame should come from there. Father Paul
+will be delighted."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello thought a minute. She was greatly tempted to wish to see
+this priest who might have known her husband. She need not betray
+herself to him. For the rest, she had noticed him often, and thought
+what a good, pleasant face he had&mdash;a little too round and rosy perhaps,
+but very honest and not vulgar. He might be an agreeable visitor, even
+if he had no other claim on her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think," she said, "that he would mind coming to see me? I should
+be very glad to receive him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am sure he would be charmed. He likes so much to talk of Canada."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you say to him then, please, that I have lived there many years
+and should be very pleased to have a chat with him about it. I might be
+able to give him news."</p>
+
+<p>Madame Everaert was delighted. She went away quite satisfied to find
+Father Paul at the very earliest opportunity, and to deliver to him with
+<i>empressement</i> Mrs. Costello's invitation.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia, meanwhile, took her usual walk. She went quickly along the stony
+streets and climbed up the grassy side of the rampart. It was all still
+and solitary, and she sat down where there lay before her a wide stretch
+of perfectly level country, only broken by the lines of the old
+fortifications, and bordered by the sea. In the clear morning sunshine,
+she could distinguish the white foam where the waves broke against the
+wooden pier, and out on the blue waters there were white shining specks
+of sails. Ships coming and going, and on the beach moving groups of
+people&mdash;everywhere something that had life and motion and looked on to a
+future, an object beyond this present moment&mdash;everywhere but here with
+her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said to herself, "how wearisome life is! What good to myself
+or to anybody else is this existence of mine? Am I never either to be
+good or happy again? Happy, I suppose that does not so much matter&mdash;but
+good? If people are wrong once, can they never get right again? I used
+to think I should like to be a Sister of Mercy&mdash;and now that is all that
+is left for me, I do not feel any inclination for it. I don't think I
+have a vocation even for that."</p>
+
+<p>And at this point she fell into a lower depth of melancholy&mdash;one of
+those sad moods which, at eighteen, have even a kind of charm in their
+exaggeration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+
+<p>A day or two later there came, forwarded from Paris, an English letter
+for Mrs. Costello. It arrived in the evening, at a time when they had no
+expectation of receiving anything, and Madame Everaert brought it up,
+and delivered it into Mrs. Costello's own hand, so that Lucia was not
+near enough to see from whom it came. The general appearance of the
+letter made her think it was English, and she knew that Mr. Wynter had
+their present address and would not write to Paris. So she felt a
+half-joyful, half-frightened suspicion that it must be from Maurice, and
+her idea was confirmed by her mother's proceedings. For Mrs. Costello
+having looked at the address, put the letter quietly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> in her pocket, and
+went on talking about Father Paul, from whom they were expecting a
+visit.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia could hardly restrain herself. It was clear that Mrs. Costello did
+not mean to open the letter before her, or to tell her whence it came;
+but her anxiety to know was only increased by this certainty. She had
+almost made up her mind to ask plainly whether it was from Maurice, when
+the door opened and the old priest came in.</p>
+
+<p>He was a fine-looking, white-haired man of more than seventy, to whom
+the long black robe seemed exactly the most suitable dress possible, and
+he had a good manner too, which was neither that of a mere priest, nor
+of a mere gentleman, but belonged to both. The first few minutes of talk
+made Mrs. Costello sure that she did not repent having invited his
+acquaintance; a fact which had been in some little doubt before.</p>
+
+<p>She had said to him, "Madame Everaert told me you knew Canada, and, as
+we are Canadians, I could not resist the wish to see one who might still
+feel an interest in our country," and this turned the conversation
+immediately to what she desired to hear.</p>
+
+<p>He answered her with a smile, "Probably my knowledge of Canada is very
+different from yours;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> mine is almost entirely confined to the wilder
+and less settled parts&mdash;to the Indian lands, in fact."</p>
+
+<p>"In Upper Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And then it is many years since I returned."</p>
+
+<p>"I have lived for twenty years in Upper Canada; and of some of the
+Indians, the Ojibways of Moose Island, I have heard a great deal;
+perhaps you know them?"</p>
+
+<p>The priest's eye brightened, but next moment he sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"The very place!" he said. "Unhappy people! But I am forgetting that
+you, madame, are not likely to share my feelings on the subject."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," Mrs. Costello answered, "that we should be wholly
+disagreed. I have heard, I may almost say I know myself, much of your
+mission there."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible? Can any good remain still?"</p>
+
+<p>"One of your old pupils died lately, and in his last hours he remembered
+nothing so well as your teaching."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice shook; this sudden mention of her husband, voluntary as it
+was, agitated her strongly. Father Paul saw it and wondered, but
+appeared to see nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Poor boys! You console me, madame, for many sad thoughts. I was a young
+man then, and, as you see, I am now a very old one, but I have known few
+more sorrowful days than the one when I left Moose Island."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet it must have been a hard and wearisome life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hard?&mdash;Yes&mdash;but not wearisome. We were ready to bear the hardness as
+long as we hoped to see the fruit of our labours. I thought there had
+been no fruit, or very little; but you prove to me that I was too
+faithless."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello remained a moment silent. She was much inclined to trust
+her guest with that part of her story which referred to Christian&mdash;no
+doubt he was in the habit of keeping stranger secrets than hers.</p>
+
+<p>While she hesitated he spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"But the whole face of the country must have changed since I knew it.
+Did you live in that neighbourhood?"</p>
+
+<p>"For several years&mdash;all the first years of my married life, I lived on
+Moose Island itself, and my daughter&mdash;come to me a moment, Lucia,&mdash;was
+born there."</p>
+
+<p>She took Lucia's hand and drew her forward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> The remaining daylight fell
+full upon her dark hair and showed the striking outlines of her face and
+graceful head.</p>
+
+<p>Father Paul looked in amazement&mdash;looked from the daughter to the mother,
+and the mother to the daughter, not knowing what to think or say.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello relieved his embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"My marriage was a strange one," she said. "The old pupil of whom I
+spoke to you just now, was my husband."</p>
+
+<p>"Your husband, madame? Do I understand you? Mademoiselle's father then
+was&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"An Indian."</p>
+
+<p>He remained dumb with astonishment, not willing to give vent to the
+exclamations of surprise and almost sorrow which he felt might be
+offensive to his hostess, while she told him in the fewest possible
+words of her marriage to Christian and separation from him.</p>
+
+<p>There was one thought in the old priest's mind, which had never, at
+anytime, occurred to Mrs. Costello&mdash;Christian had been destined for the
+Church. He had taken no vows, certainly; but for years he had been
+trained with that object, and at one time his vocation had seemed
+remarkably clear and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> strong&mdash;his marriage, at all, therefore, seemed to
+add enormity to his other guilt.</p>
+
+<p>And yet there was a sort of lurking tenderness for the boy who had been
+the favourite pupil of the mission&mdash;who had seemed to have such natural
+aptitude for good of all sorts, until suddenly the mask dropped off, and
+the good turned to evil. It might be that his misdoings were but the
+result of a temporary possession of the evil one himself, and that at
+last all might have been well.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello spoke more fully as she saw how deep was the listener's
+interest in her story; yet, when she came near the end, she almost
+shrank from the task. The sacred tenderness which belongs to the dead,
+had fallen like a veil over all her last memories of her husband; and
+now she wanted to share them with this good old man, whose teaching had
+made them what they were.</p>
+
+<p>More than once she had to stop, to wait till her voice was less
+unsteady, but she went on to the very end&mdash;even to that strange burial
+in the waters. When all was told, there was a silence in the room;
+Father Paul had wet eyes, unseen in the dusk, and he did not care to
+speak; Lucia, whose tears were very ready of late; was crying quietly,
+with her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> head lying against the end of the sofa, while Mrs. Costello,
+leaning back on her cushions, waited quietly till the painful throbbing
+of her heart should subside.</p>
+
+<p>At last Lucia rose and stole out of the room. She went to her own, and
+lay down on her bed still crying, though she could hardly tell why. Her
+trouble about the letter still haunted and worried her, and her spirit
+was so broken that she was like a sick child, neither able nor anxious
+to command herself.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the lamp had been brought into the sitting-room, and the two
+elder people had recommenced their conversation. It was of a less
+agitating kind now, but the subject was not very different, and both
+were deeply interested, so that time passed on quickly, and the evening
+was gone before they were aware. When Father Paul rose to go, he said,
+"Madam, I thank you for all you have told me. Your secret is safe with
+me; but I beg your permission to share the rest of your intelligence
+with one of my brothers&mdash;the only survivor except myself of that
+mission. If you will permit me, I shall visit you again&mdash;I should like
+much to make friends with mademoiselle, your daughter. She re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>calls to
+me strongly the features of my once greatly loved pupil."</p>
+
+<p>With this little speech he departed, and left Mrs. Costello to wonder
+over this last page in her husband's history. Only a year ago how little
+would she have believed it possible that a man respectable, nay,
+venerable, as this old priest, would have thought kindly of Lucia for
+her father's sake!</p>
+
+<p>After a little while she got up and went to look for her daughter. She
+found her sitting at a window, looking forlornly out at the lights and
+movements in the place, and not very ready to meet the lamplight when
+she came back into the sitting-room. Still, however, she heard nothing
+of the letter, nor even when she bade her mother good night and lingered
+a little at the very last, hoping for one word, even though it might be
+a reproach, to tell her that it was from Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>She had to go to her room disconsolate. She heard Mrs. Costello go to
+hers, and close the door.</p>
+
+<p>'Now,' she thought, 'it will be opened. It cannot be from <i>him</i>, or
+mamma could not have waited so long. But I don't know; she has such
+self-command! I used to fancy I could be patient at great need&mdash;and I am
+not one bit.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>However, as waiting and listening for every sound brought her no nearer
+to the obtaining of her wishes, she undressed and lay down, and began to
+try to imagine what the letter could be. Gradually, from thinking, she
+fell into dreaming, and dropped into a doze.</p>
+
+<p>But before she was sound asleep, the door opened, and Mrs. Costello
+shading her candle with her hand, came into the room. Lucia had been so
+excited that the smallest movement was sufficient to awake her. She
+started up and said, "What is it mamma?" in a frightened voice.</p>
+
+<p>"It is late," Mrs. Costello said. "Quite time you were asleep, but I am
+glad you are not. Lie down. I shall sit here for a few minutes and tell
+you what I want to say."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia obeyed. She saw that her mother had a paper in her hand&mdash;no doubt
+the letter. Now she should hear.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a letter to-night," her mother went on. "I dare say you wondered
+I did not open it at once. The truth was, I saw that it was in Mr.
+Leigh's writing, and I had reason to feel a little anxious as to what he
+might say."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lucia could say no more; but she waited eagerly for the news that must
+be coming&mdash;news of Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall give you the letter to read. Bring it back to me in the
+morning; but before you do so, think well what you will do. I would
+never ask you to be untrue to yourself in such a matter; but I entreat
+you to see that you do know your own mind, and to use your power of
+saying yes or no, if you should ever have it, not like a foolish girl,
+but like a woman, who must abide all her life by the consequences of her
+decision."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello kissed her daughter's forehead, lighted the candle which
+stood on a small table, and leaving the letter beside it, went softly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>The moment the door closed, Lucia eagerly stretched out her arm and took
+the letter. Her hands trembled; the light seemed dim; and Mr. Leigh's
+cramped old-fashioned handwriting was more illegible than ever; but she
+read eagerly, devouring the words.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mrs. Costello,&mdash;You may think, perhaps, that I ought not to
+interfere in a matter in which I have not been consulted; but you know
+that to us, who have in all the world nothing to care for but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> one only
+child, that child's affairs are apt to be much the same as our own.</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice told me, just before we left Canada, what I might have been
+certain of long before if I had not been a stupid old man&mdash;that it was
+the hope of his life to marry your Lucia. He went to Paris, certainly,
+with the intention of asking her to marry him; and he came back quite
+unexpectedly, and looking ten years older&mdash;so changed, not only in
+looks, but in all his ways of speaking and acting, that it was clear to
+me some great misfortune had happened. Still he said very little to me,
+and it appears incredible that Lucia can have refused him. Perhaps that
+seems an arrogant speech for his father to make&mdash;but you will understand
+that I mean if she knew how constantly faithful he has been to her ever
+since they were both children;&mdash;and if she has done so in some momentary
+displeasure with him (for you know they used to have little quarrels
+sometimes), or if they have parted in anger, I beg of you, dear Mrs.
+Costello, for the sake of his mother, to try to put things right between
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"I must tell you plainly that I am writing without my son's knowledge. I
+would very much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> rather he should never know I have written; but I have
+been urged to do it by some things that have happened lately.</p>
+
+<p>"Some time ago Maurice, speaking to me of Mr. Beresford's will, told me
+that there had been a little difficulty in tracing one of the persons
+named as legatees. This was a cousin of Mr. Beresford's, with whom he
+seems to have had very little acquaintance, and no recent intercourse
+whatever; although, except Lady Dighton, she was the nearest relative he
+had. The lawyers discovered, while Maurice was in Canada, that this lady
+herself was dead. Her marriage had been unfortunate, and she had a
+spendthrift son, to whom, as his mother's heir, the money left by Mr.
+Beresford passed; but it appeared that she had also a daughter, who was
+in unhappy circumstances, being dependent on some relation of her
+father. Maurice, very naturally and properly, thought that, as head of
+the family, it was his duty to arrange something for this lady's
+comfort; and accordingly, being in London, where she lives, he called on
+her. She has since then been in this neighbourhood, and I have seen her
+several times. She is a young lady of agreeable appearance and manners,
+and seems qualified to become<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> popular, if she were in a position to do
+so. I should not have thought of this, however, if it had not been for a
+few words Maurice said to me one day. I asked him some question about
+marrying, hoping to hear some allusion to Lucia, but he said very
+gravely that he should certainly marry some time; he had promised his
+grandfather to do so. Then he said suddenly, 'What would you think of
+Emma Landor for a daughter-in-law?' 'Emma Landor?' I answered; 'what has
+put her into your head?' 'Just this, sir,' he said; 'if I am to marry as
+a duty, I had better find somebody to whom I shall do some good, and not
+all evil, by marrying them. Emma would enjoy being mistress here; she
+would do it well, too; and having Hunsdon, she would not miss anything
+else that might be wanting.' With that he went out of the room; and
+after awhile I persuaded myself that he meant nothing serious by what he
+had said. However, Lady Dighton has spoken to me of the same thing
+since. Both she and I are convinced now that Maurice thinks&mdash;you may be,
+better then we are, able to understand why&mdash;that he has lost Lucia, and
+that, therefore, a marriage of convenience is all that he can hope for.
+Perhaps I am mistaken, or,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> at all events, too soon alarmed; but the
+mere idea of his proposing to this young lady throws me into a panic. If
+she should accept him (and Lady Dighton thinks she probably would), it
+would be a life-long misery. I am old-fashioned enough to think it would
+be a sin. He will not do it yet; perhaps he may see you again before he
+does. Do, I entreat of you, use the great influence you have always had
+with him to set things right. I have written a very long letter, because
+I could not ask your help without explaining; but I trust to your
+kindness to sympathize with my anxiety. Kindest regards to Lucia."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia put down the paper. The whole letter, slowly and painfully
+deciphered, seemed to make no impression on her brain. She lay still,
+with a sort of stunned feeling, till the sense of what she had read came
+to her fully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Maurice!" she cried under her breath, "I want you! Come back to me!
+She shall never have you! You belong to me!" She covered her face with
+her hands, ashamed of even hearing her own words; then she got up and
+went across to her window, and looked out at the light burning on the
+tower&mdash;the light which shone far across the sea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> towards England. But
+presently she came back, and reached her little desk&mdash;Maurice's gift
+long ago&mdash;and knelt down on the floor, and wrote, kneeling,&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Maurice, you promised that if ever I wanted you, you would come. I
+want you now more than ever I did in my life. Please, please come.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="smcap"  style="margin-left: 22em;">"Lucia</span>."
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Then she leaned her head down till it almost touched the paper, and
+stayed so for a few minutes before she got up from her knees and
+extinguished her candle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the morning, when Lucia woke, her note to Maurice lay on the open
+desk, where she had left it, and was the first thing to remind her of
+what she had heard and done. She went and took it up to destroy it, but
+laid it down again irresolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"I do want him," she said to herself. "Without any nonsense, I ought to
+see him again before he does anything. I ought to tell him I am sorry
+for being so cross and ungrateful; and if he were married, or even
+engaged, I could not do it; it would be like confessing to a stranger."</p>
+
+<p>There was something very like a sob, making her throat swell as she
+considered. He would perhaps see them again, Mr. Leigh said. Ought she
+to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> trust to that chance? But then her courage might fail if he came
+over just like any ordinary visitor; and her young cousins from Chester
+were coming; and if they should be there, it would be another hindrance.
+"And, oh! I must see him again," she said, "and find out whether we are
+not to be brother and sister any more."</p>
+
+<p>She said "brother and sister" still, as she had done long ago; but she
+knew very well in her heart now, that <i>that</i> had never been the
+relationship Maurice desired. And so she tore her note into little bits,
+and remained helpless, but rebelling against her helplessness. In this
+humour she went to her mother's room.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello was not yet up. Lucia knelt down by the bedside, and laid
+Mr. Leigh's letter beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, I am very sorry," she said; "I think Mr. Leigh must have been
+very unhappy before he would write to you so."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you. He is not a man to take fright without cause,
+either."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say, 'to take fright?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do I say so? Are you such a child still, that you cannot understand
+a man like Maurice,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> always so tender towards women&mdash;Quixotically so,
+indeed&mdash;making himself believe that he is doing quite right in marrying
+a poor girl in Miss Landor's position, when, in fact, he is doing a
+great wrong? It is a double wrong to her and to himself; and one for
+which he would be certain to suffer, whether she did or not. And, Lucia
+I must say it, whatever evil may come of it, now or in the future, is
+our fault."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma! mamma, don't say 'our'&mdash;say 'your'&mdash;if it is mine&mdash;for
+certainly it is not yours."</p>
+
+<p>"I will say your fault, then; I believe you feel it so."</p>
+
+<p>"But, mamma, really and truly, is it anybody's fault? Don't people often
+love those who can't care for them in return?"</p>
+
+<p>"Really and truly, quite honestly and frankly, Lucia, was that the case
+with you?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucia's eyes fell. She could not say yes.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you," Mrs. Costello went on, "what I believe to be the
+truth, and you can set me right if I am wrong. You knew that Maurice had
+always been fond of you&mdash;devoted to you, in a way that had come by use
+to seem natural; and it had never entered your mind to think either how
+much of your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> regard he deserved, or how much he really had. I will not
+say anything about Percy; but I do believe," and she spoke very
+deliberately, laying her hand on Lucia's, "that since Maurice went away,
+you have been finding out that you had made a mistake, and that your
+heart had not been wrong nearly so much as your imagination."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia was still silent. If she had spoken at all, it must have been to
+confess that her mother was right, and that was not easy to do. Whatever
+suspicions she might have in her own heart, it was a mortifying thing to
+be told plainly that her love for Percy was a mistake&mdash;a mere
+counterfeit&mdash;instead of the enduring devotion which it ought to have
+been. But she was very much humbled now, and patiently waited for what
+her mother might say next.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" Mrs. Costello began again, "it is no use now to go on talking of
+the past. The question is rather whether anything can be done for the
+future. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"What can I say, mamma? What can I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Maurice used to tell me of his plans, but he is not
+likely to do that now. I would write and ask him to come over, but it is
+more than doubtful whether he would come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He promised that if ever I wanted him he would come," Lucia said,
+hesitating.</p>
+
+<p>"If you were in need of him I am sure he would, but it would be a kind
+of impertinence to send for him on that plea when it was not really for
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"But it <i>is</i>. Mamma, don't be angry with me again! Don't be disgusted
+with me; but I want, so badly, to see him and tell him I behaved
+wrongly. I was so cross, so ungrateful, so <i>horrid</i>, mamma, that it was
+enough to make him think all girls bad. I should <i>like</i> to tell him how
+sorry I am; I feel as if I should never be happy till I did."</p>
+
+<p>When, after this outbreak, Lucia's face went down upon her hands, Mrs.
+Costello could not resist a little self-gratulatory smile. 'All may come
+right yet,' she thought to herself, 'if that wilful boy will only come
+over.'</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are right," she said aloud. "Possibly he may come over, and
+then you will have an opportunity of speaking to him, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Lucia said, very slowly, thinking of her note, and of the comfort
+it would have been if she <i>could</i> but have sent it. "Oh, mamma, if we
+were but in England!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Useless wishes, dear. Give me your advice about writing to Mr. Leigh."</p>
+
+<p>"You will write, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I must. Yet it is a difficult letter for me to answer."</p>
+
+<p>"Could not you just say 'I will do what I can?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Which is absolutely nothing&mdash;unless Maurice should really pay us a
+visit here, a thing not likely at present."</p>
+
+<p>So the conversation ended without any satisfaction to Lucia. Nay, all
+her previous days had been happy compared to this one. She was devoured
+now, by a restless, jealous curiosity about that Miss Landor whom Mr.
+Leigh feared&mdash;she constantly found her thoughts reverting to this
+subject, however she might try to occupy them with others, and the
+tumult of her mind reacted upon her nerves. She could scarcely bear to
+sit still. It rained all afternoon and evening, and she could not go
+out, so that in the usual course of events she would have read aloud to
+her mother part of the time, and for the other part sat by the window
+with her crochet in her hand, but to-day she wandered about perpetually.
+She even opened the piano and began to sing her merriest old songs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> but
+that soon ceased. She found the novel they were reading insufferably
+stupid, and took up a volume of Shakespeare for refreshment, but it
+opened naturally to the 'Merchant of Venice,' and, to the page where
+Portia says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"Though for myself alone,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I would not be ambitious in my wish,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To wish myself much better, yet for you</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I would be trebled twenty times myself;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That only to stand high on your account,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Exceed account."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>She shut the book&mdash;yes, this was a true woman, who for true love thought
+herself and all she possessed too little to give in return; but for the
+little, foolish, blind souls that could not see till too late, what
+<i>was</i> true love, she was no fit company.</p>
+
+<p>The evening passed on wearily, and Mrs. Costello, who had her own share
+of disquiet also, though it was mixed with a little amusement at the
+impetuosity of these young people, who were so dear to her and so
+troublesome, did very little in the way of consolation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Next day, the weather had cleared again, and was very lovely. In the
+afternoon, Lucia persuaded Mrs. Costello to go with her to the beach.
+There they got chairs, and sat for a long while enjoying the gay, and
+often comical, scene round them. Numbers of people were bathing, and
+beside the orthodox bathers, there was a party of little boys wading
+about with bare legs, and playing all sorts of pranks in the water.</p>
+
+<p>A little way to the left of where they sat, there was a curious kind of
+wooden pier, which ran far away out into the sea and terminated in a
+small square wooden building. The whole thing was raised on piles about
+five or six feet above the present level of the water which flowed
+underneath it. The pier itself, in fact, was only a narrow bridge or
+footpath railed partly on one side only, partly on both, and with an
+oddly unsafe and yet tempting look about it. Lucia had been attracted by
+it before, and she drew her mother's attention to it now&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Look, mamma," she said, "does not it seem as if one could almost cross
+the Channel on it, it goes so far out. See that woman, now&mdash;I have
+watched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> since she started from this end, and now you can scarcely
+distinguish her figure."</p>
+
+<p>"There is a priest coming along it&mdash;is it not Father Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do believe it is. I wish he would come and talk to you for a little
+while, and then I would go."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not stay for that, dear. I shall sit here alone quite
+comfortably, if you wish to go out there."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like very much to go. I want to see what the sea looks like
+away from the beach. There is no harm, is there?"</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever. Go, and I will watch you."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> Father Paul," she said, "and he is coming this way."</p>
+
+<p>She lingered a minute, and the priest, who had recognized them, came up.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello told him of Lucia's wish to go out on the pier, and he
+assured her she would enjoy it.</p>
+
+<p>"The air seems even fresher there than here," he said; and she went off,
+and left him and her mother together.</p>
+
+<p>For a few minutes they talked about the weather, the sea, and the people
+about them, as two slight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> acquaintances would naturally do; but then,
+when there had been a momentary pause, Father Paul startled Mrs.
+Costello, by saying,</p>
+
+<p>"Last night, madam, you told me of persons I had not heard of for
+years&mdash;this morning, strangely enough, I have met with a person of whom
+you probably know something&mdash;or knew something formerly."</p>
+
+<p>"I?" she answered. "Impossible! I know no one in France."</p>
+
+<p>"This is not a Frenchman. He is named Bailey, an American, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Bailey?" Mrs. Costello repeated, terrified. "Surely he is not here?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is a man of that name here&mdash;a miserable ruined gambler, who says
+that he knows Moose Island, and once travelled in Europe with a party of
+Indians."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is he doing now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. He is the most wretched, squalid object you can imagine. He
+came to me this morning to ask for the loan of a few francs. He had not
+even the honesty to beg without some pretence of an intention to pay."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he so low then as to need to beg?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Madame, he is a gambler, I repeat it. If he had a hundred francs
+to-night, he would most likely be penniless to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"And he claimed charity from you because of your connection with
+Canada?"</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. Having no other plea. I was right, madame: you know this man?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was my bitterest enemy!" she answered, half rising in her vehemence.
+"But for him I might have had a happy life."</p>
+
+<p>Father Paul looked shocked.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me," he said, in a troubled voice, "I am grieved to have spoken
+of him."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, I am thankful you did so. If I had met him by chance
+in the street, I believe he could not change so much that I should not
+know him, and he&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped, then asked abruptly,</p>
+
+<p>"You did not mention me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most assuredly not."</p>
+
+<p>"Yet he might recognise me. What shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>She was speaking to herself, and not to her companion now, and she
+looked impatiently towards the pier where Lucia was slowly coming back.</p>
+
+<p>Presently she recovered herself a little, and asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> a few more
+questions about Bailey. She gathered from the answers that he had been
+some time at Bourg-Cailloux, getting gradually more poverty-stricken and
+utterly disreputable. That he was now wandering about without a home, or
+money even for gambling. She knew enough of the man to be certain that
+under such circumstances he would snatch at any means of obtaining
+money, and what means easier, if he only knew it, than to threaten and
+persecute her. And at any moment he might discover her&mdash;her very
+acquaintance with Father Paul might betray her to him. She cast a
+terrified look over all the groups of people on the beach, half
+expecting to see the well-remembered features of Bailey among them; but
+he was not there. Close by her, however, stood Lucia, and at a little
+distance the carriage, which had been ordered to fetch them, was just
+drawing up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello said nothing to Lucia on their way home about Bailey. She
+sat in her corner of the carriage, leaning back and thinking
+despairingly what to do. Her spirits had so far given way with her
+failing health that she no longer felt the courage necessary to face
+annoyance. And it was plainly to be feared that in case this man
+discovered her, he would have no scruples, being so needy and degraded,
+about using every means in his power to extort money from her.
+Undoubtedly he had such means&mdash;he had but to tell her story, as he
+<i>could</i> tell it, and not only her own life, but Lucia's, would be made
+wretched; the separation from Maurice, which she was beginning to hope
+might be only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> temporary, would become irrevocable&mdash;and, what seemed to
+her still more terrible, there would be perpetual demands from her
+enemy, and the misery of perpetual contact with him. To buy off such a
+man, at once and finally, was, she knew, utterly beyond her power&mdash;what
+then could she do?</p>
+
+<p>When they were at home, and the door of their sitting-room safely
+closed, she turned anxiously to Lucia,</p>
+
+<p>"Bailey is here," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Bailey?" Lucia repeated&mdash;she had forgotten the name.</p>
+
+<p>"The man who was present at my marriage&mdash;the American."</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma! How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father Paul told me just now."</p>
+
+<p>"How did he know?"</p>
+
+<p>"The wretched man had gone to him begging, and he mentioned him to me by
+chance, thinking I might know something about him."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely he would not remember you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think he would. If by any accident he met you and me together, I am
+certain he would."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I am so like my father."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Lucia, I <i>dare</i> not meet him. I believe the very sight of him would
+kill me."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go away, mamma. He knows nothing about us yet. We might start
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Where should we go? Even at our own door we might meet him, at the
+railway station&mdash;anywhere. No, it is only inside these walls we are
+safe, and scarcely here."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello was literally trembling, the panic which had seized her
+was so great; Lucia, not fully understanding yet, could not help being
+infected by her terror.</p>
+
+<p>"But, mamma, we cannot shut ourselves up in these rooms. That, with the
+constant fear added to it, would soon make you ill again."</p>
+
+<p>"What can we do?" Mrs. Costello repeated helplessly. "If, indeed, we
+could start to-night, and go south, or go out of France altogether. But
+I have not even money in the house for our journey."</p>
+
+<p>"And if you had, you have not strength for it. Would not it be well to
+consult Mr. Wynter? If we had any friend here who would make the
+arrangement for us, I don't see why we should not be able to go away
+without any fear of meeting this man."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No; that would not do. To consult George would just be opening up again
+all that was most painful&mdash;it would be almost as bad as meeting Bailey
+himself."</p>
+
+<p>"And we could not be stopped even if we did meet Bailey. Let me go
+alone, mamma, and do what is to be done&mdash;it is not much. If I meet him I
+shall not know it, and seeing me alone, the likeness cannot be so strong
+as to make him recognize me all at once."</p>
+
+<p>"But he might see us together when we start from here; and he might
+trace us. He would know at once that he could get money from me, and for
+money he would do anything."</p>
+
+<p>She leaned back, and was silent a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"We must keep closely shut up for a little while, till I can decide what
+to do. I wish Maurice would come."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia looked up eagerly. It was her own thought, though she had not
+dared to say it. Maurice could always find the way out of a difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," she said anxiously, but with some hesitation, "I think this is
+need&mdash;the kind of need Maurice meant."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Need, truly. But I do not know&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He would be glad to help you. And he knows all about us."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I should not have to make long explanations to him."</p>
+
+<p>Just then there was a knock at the door. Both started violently. Absurd
+as it was, they both expected to see Bailey himself enter. Instead, they
+saw Madame Everaert, her round face flushed with walking and her hands
+full of flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"For mademoiselle," she said, laying them down on the table, and nodding
+and smiling good humouredly. "I have been to Rosendahl to see my
+goddaughter there, and she has a magnificent garden, so I brought a few
+flowers for mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia thanked her, and admired the flowers, and she went away without
+suspecting the fright her visit had caused.</p>
+
+<p>"Get your desk, Lucia," Mrs. Costello said, gasping for breath, and
+almost exhausted by the terrible beating of her heart, "and write a note
+for me."</p>
+
+<p>The desk was brought and opened.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it to Maurice?" Lucia asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Say that we are in great need of a friend."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia began. She found it much more difficult than she had done the
+other night, when she wrote those few impetuous lines which had been
+afterwards torn up.</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p style="margin-top: 2em;">"Dear Maurice," she said, "mamma tells me to write to you, and say that
+something has happened which has frightened her very much, and that we
+are in great need of a friend. Will you keep your promise, and come to
+us?"</p></blockquote>
+
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">This was what she showed to her mother. When Mrs. Costello had approved
+of it, she wrote a few words more.</p>
+
+
+<blockquote><p style="margin-top: 2em;">"I want to ask you to forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I am so
+unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"Yours affectionately,</span></p>
+<p><span class="smcap"  style="margin-left: 20em;">"Lucia.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+<p style="margin-top: 2em;">She hesitated a little how to sign herself, but finally wrote just what
+she had been accustomed to put to all her little notes written to
+Maurice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> during his absences from Cacouna in the old days.</p>
+
+<p>When the letter had been sealed and sent off by Madame Everaert's
+servant to the post-office, they began to feel that all they could do
+for the present was done. Mrs. Costello lay still on her sofa, without
+having strength or energy to talk, and Lucia took her never-finished
+crochet, and sat in her old place by the window.</p>
+
+<p>But very soon it grew too dark to work. The Place was lighted, and alive
+with people passing to and fro. The windows of the guard house opposite
+were brilliant, and from those of a caf&eacute; on the same side as Madame
+Everaert's there shone out, half across the square, a broad line of
+light. In this way, at two places, the figures of those who moved about
+the pavement on each side of the Place, were very plainly visible; even
+the faces of some could be distinguished. Lucia watched these people
+to-night with a new interest. Every time the strong glare fell upon a
+shabby slouching figure, or on a poorly dressed man who wanted the air
+of being a Frenchman, she thought, "Is that Bailey?" When the lamp came
+in, Mrs. Costello had fallen asleep, so Lucia turned it down low, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>
+still sat at the window. The light on the tower shone out clear and
+bright&mdash;above it the stars looked pale, but the sky was perfectly
+serene. Maurice, if he came soon, had every prospect of a fair passage.
+"And he will come," she thought to herself, "even if he is really too
+much vexed with me to forgive me, he will come for mamma's sake."</p>
+
+<p>All next day they both kept indoors. Lucia tried to persuade her mother
+to drive out into the country, but even for this Mrs. Costello had not
+courage. At the same time she seemed to be losing all sense of security
+in the house. She fancied she had not sufficiently impressed on Father
+Paul the importance of not betraying her in any way to Bailey. She
+wished to write and remind him of this, but she dared not lest her note
+should fall into wrong hands. Then she thought of asking him to visit
+her, but hesitated also about that till it was too late. In short, was
+in a perfectly unreasonable and incapable condition&mdash;fear had taken such
+hold of her in her weak state of health that Lucia began to think it
+would end in nervous fever. With her the dread of Bailey began to be
+quite lost in apprehension for her mother, and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> own affairs had to
+be put altogether on one side to make room for these new anxieties.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon of that day Mrs. Costello suddenly roused herself from
+a fit of thought.</p>
+
+<p>"We must go somewhere," she said. "That is certain, whatever else is. As
+soon as Maurice comes we ought to be prepared to start. Do go, Lucia,
+and see if there is any packing you can do&mdash;without attracting
+attention, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"But, mamma," Lucia objected, "Maurice cannot be here to-day, nor even,
+I believe, to-morrow, at the very soonest, and I will soon do what there
+is to do."</p>
+
+<p>"There is a great deal. And I can't help you, my poor child. And there
+ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia had to yield. She began to pack as if all their arrangements were
+made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their
+wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about
+them of their intended departure.</p>
+
+<p>Another restless night passed, and another day began. There was the
+faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as
+soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at
+some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter
+might not reach him till this very morning. Yet, since he <i>might</i> come,
+they must do all they could to be ready. The day was very hot. All the
+windows were open, and the shutters closed; a drowsy heat and stillness
+filled the rooms. Mrs. Costello walked about perpetually. She had tried
+to help Lucia, but had been obliged to leave off and content herself
+with gathering up, here and there, the things that were in daily use,
+and bringing them to Lucia to put away. They said very little to each
+other. Mrs. Costello could think of nothing but Bailey, and she did not
+dare to talk about him from some fanciful fear of being overheard. Lucia
+thought of her mother's health and of Maurice, and Mrs. Costello had no
+attention to spare for either.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, sounding very loud in the stillness, there came the roll of a
+carriage over the rough stones of the Place. It stopped; there was a
+moment's pause, and then a hasty ring at the door-bell. Both mother and
+daughter paused and listened. There was a quick movement downstairs&mdash;a
+foot which was swifter and lighter than Madame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> Everaert's on the
+staircase&mdash;and Maurice at the sitting-room door.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello went forward from the doorway where she had been arrested
+by the sound of his coming; Lucia, kneeling before a trunk in the
+adjoining room, saw him standing there, and sprang to her feet; he came
+in glad, eager, impatient to know what they wanted of him; and before
+any of them had time to think about it, this meeting, so much desired
+and dreaded, was over.</p>
+
+<p>"But how could you come so soon?" Mrs. Costello asked. "We did not
+expect you till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"By the greatest chance. I had been in town for two days. Our station
+and post-office are at the same place. When they met me at the station,
+they brought me letters which had just arrived, and yours was among
+them. So I was able to catch the next train back to London, instead of
+going home."</p>
+
+<p>"And which way did you come? The boat is not in yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"By Calais. It was quicker. Now tell me what has happened."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello looked carefully to see that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> door was shut. Then she
+told Maurice who and what she feared, and how she could not even leave
+Bourg-Cailloux without help.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet, I think I ought to leave," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you ought," Maurice answered. "You must go to England."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+
+<p>"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy
+journey, and you would be quite safe there."</p>
+
+<p>"But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather
+uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there."</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might
+perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying
+you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea
+you are in Europe at all."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice
+inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her
+packing, leaving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> the door ajar that she might hear their voices. She
+went on with her work in a strange tumult and confusion. Not a word
+beyond the first greetings had passed between Maurice and herself, but
+she could not help feeling as if their positions were somehow
+changed&mdash;and not for the worse.</p>
+
+<p>There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her
+hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks
+grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making
+some confession.</p>
+
+<p>After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She
+began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she
+was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last
+opinion.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go
+out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her.</p>
+
+<p>"He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat
+to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night, mamma, for England?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be
+sure," she said; "why, my dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> child, you yourself thought England
+would be the best place."</p>
+
+<p>"I did <i>think</i> so certainly, but I did not know I had said it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, can we be ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to
+arrange with."</p>
+
+<p>"We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise
+you will not be able to go."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her
+enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished,
+and lay quietly waiting for his coming back.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk
+just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the
+decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of
+excitement and fatigue on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we to go?" she said quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be
+ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"By what time?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Nine o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now."</p>
+
+<p>"Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad
+boat, and there is room for us on board."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I
+made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it
+would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come."</p>
+
+<p>"You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be
+afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary."</p>
+
+<p>"If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite
+helpless, quite upset by this last terror."</p>
+
+<p>"But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you
+were upset."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half
+smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> make me believe she depends on me, and
+you try to take away the flattering impression."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows&mdash;" but there she got into
+confusion and stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and
+tell her we are going."</p>
+
+<p>Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the
+departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour
+was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour
+named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest
+as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where
+so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from
+habit, took her seat by the window.</p>
+
+<p>Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when
+we reach England?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so
+pleased&mdash;and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she
+hears."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only
+coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to
+find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should
+certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it."</p>
+
+<p>"Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out."</p>
+
+<p>"I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you <i>prefer</i> it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well
+that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When
+you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you."</p>
+
+<p>While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the
+Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas&mdash;for the last time she
+watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way
+they would be able to see it still.</p>
+
+<p>Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go.</p>
+
+<p>The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the
+cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving
+each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> moment, and their luggage stood piled up ready to be embarked.
+Sailors were talking or shouting to each other in English and French;
+the cargo of fruit and vegetables was still being stowed away, and
+people were running against other people in the darkness, and trying
+vainly to discover their own trunks on the deck, or their own berths in
+the cabin. Into the midst of all this confusion Maurice brought his
+charges; but as he had been on board in the afternoon, he knew where to
+take them, and they found their own quarters without difficulty. While
+he saw to their packages, they made their arrangements for the night.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable
+here, and I think it is always best."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind
+my leaving you for a little while?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you
+dislike it. Maurice will take care of you."</p>
+
+<p>But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother
+comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had
+not yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old
+town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the
+starry sky.</p>
+
+<p>She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this
+last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy
+here. I wonder if England will be happier?'</p>
+
+<p>She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at
+the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning
+to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucia, it <i>is</i> you then? I thought you would not be able to stay
+below."</p>
+
+<p>"No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely."</p>
+
+<p>"The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a
+little&mdash;unless you are tired?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am tired, but to walk will rest me."</p>
+
+<p>As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute
+they were silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an
+impossibility."</p>
+
+<p>"What!"</p>
+
+<p>"Our being together&mdash;as we are now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send
+for me."</p>
+
+<p>"You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other
+friend to send for."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that so? Was that the only reason?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maurice!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?"</p>
+
+<p>"What was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You said you were unhappy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes, I was. <i>So</i> unhappy&mdash;I was thinking of it just now."</p>
+
+<p>"And at present? Are you unhappy still?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know I am not."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to
+do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose
+one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like
+to be quite happy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be unreasonable," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what
+I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and
+be my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of
+them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice
+understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that
+from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate,
+or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still.</p>
+
+<p>They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that
+other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the
+starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new
+life had begun&mdash;a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before
+their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When
+Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first
+allusion to what had brought them together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his
+misdoings."</p>
+
+<p>"What good deed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Frightening you."</p>
+
+<p>"He did not frighten me."</p>
+
+<p>"Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end.
+But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ask mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"I have something more interesting to ask her."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night,
+what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was
+a <i>Nunc Dimittis</i> sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell
+asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who
+had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below,
+spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven
+o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She
+only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but
+presently came back with her mother.</p>
+
+<p>They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming
+nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still
+waters.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late
+starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year."</p>
+
+<p>"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered.</p>
+
+<p>"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to
+you, Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to
+that last night."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought
+she was never coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started."</p>
+
+<p>"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak
+quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own
+arrangements for the future?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you are pretty sure of my leave."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are those your arrangements?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in
+London."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two
+children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my
+finding a house for myself and my daughter&mdash;as long as she is only my
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>Maurice had to give way a second time.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in
+London, too."</p>
+
+<p>"But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that
+you are to go home and attend to your own affairs."</p>
+
+<p>They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took
+possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit
+them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course,
+she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with
+them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for
+home next morning.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin.
+She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France
+suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return
+to England, and that she was anxious to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> see and consult with him. She
+begged him, therefore, to come up to town and to bring one at least of
+his daughters with him on a visit to Lucia.</p>
+
+<p>When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose
+that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done
+then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely that cannot be?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on
+the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had
+the decision in his hands."</p>
+
+<p>After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+
+<p>But before Mr. Wynter had time to reply.&mdash;indeed, by the very first
+possible post&mdash;came a letter to Lucia, the sight of which made her very
+rosy. She had had plenty of letters from Maurice long ago, and never
+blushed over them as she did over this; but then this was so different.
+She did not even like to read it in her mother's presence. She just
+glanced at it there, and carried it off to devour in comfort alone. It
+was quite short, after all, for he had scarcely had ten minutes before
+the post hour; but it said&mdash;beside several things which were of no
+interest except to the reader&mdash;that he had found Lady Dighton at Hunsdon
+on his arrival, and had told her and his father together of his
+engagement;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> that his cousin was going to write and invite Mrs. Costello
+to Dighton; and that Mr. Leigh said, if they did not come down
+immediately, he should be obliged to start for London himself to tell
+them how pleased he was.</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate," Maurice concluded, "I shall be in town again on Saturday.
+I find I have business to see my lawyer about."</p>
+
+<p>All this&mdash;as well as the rest of the note&mdash;was very agreeable. Lucia
+went and sat down on a footstool at her mother's feet to tell her the
+news. Mrs. Costello laid her hand on her child's head and sighed softly.</p>
+
+<p>"You will have to give up this fashion of yours, darling," she said,
+"you must learn to be a woman now."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe I ever shall," she answered. "At least, not with you or
+with Maurice."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to go to Dighton?"</p>
+
+<p>She considered for a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mamma, I think I should. You know how things are in those great
+houses; but I have never seen anything but Canada, and even there, just
+the country. I should not like, by-and-by, for people<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> to laugh at
+Maurice, because I was only an ignorant country girl."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke very slowly and timidly; but Mrs. Costello began to think she
+was right. It would be as well that the future mistress of Hunsdon
+should have some little introduction to her new world, to prepare her
+for "by-and-by."</p>
+
+<p>Next day came two letters for Mrs. Costello, as well as one for Lucia.
+The first was from Lady Dighton full of congratulation, and pressing her
+invitation; the other, from Mr. Wynter, announced that he, his wife, and
+daughter, would be in London next evening. Next evening was Saturday,
+and Maurice also would be there, and would, of course spend Sunday with
+them; so that they had a prospect of plenty of guests.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice, however, arrived early in the day. He had established himself
+at a neighbouring hotel, and came in quite with the old air of being at
+home. He made a little grimace when he heard of the others who were
+expected, but contented himself by making the most of the hours before
+their train was due. He found an opportunity also of conveying to Mrs.
+Costello his conviction that Hunsdon was very much in want of a lady to
+make it comfortable, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> that Lucia would be much better there than
+shut up in London. The fact that London was in its glory at that moment
+made no impression on him.</p>
+
+<p>"That is just it," he said, when this was suggested to him. "I want to
+get it settled and bring her back to enjoy herself here a little before
+the season is over."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed, indeed, pretty evident that the present state of things could
+not last long; there was no reason why it should, and nothing but the
+bride's preparations to delay the long-desired wedding.</p>
+
+<p>The Wynters came about nine o'clock. Mrs. Wynter instantly recognized
+Maurice. Her daughters had speculated enough about her mysterious
+visitor that winter night, to have prevented her forgetting him, if she
+would otherwise have done so, and the state of affairs at present was
+very soon evident as an explanation of the mystery. When the party
+separated for the night, Mrs. Costello and Mr. Wynter remained in the
+drawing-room for that consultation for which he had come, while his wife
+and daughter stayed together upstairs to talk over their new relations
+before going to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello, as briefly as possible, made her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> cousin comprehend that
+she had been compelled to leave France, and had fled to England because
+it was the most accessible refuge.</p>
+
+<p>"I never meant to have come back," she said. "I have never allowed
+myself to think of it, because I could not disobey my father again."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you have come, to tell you the truth;" he answered. "I do not
+at all imagine that, in your present circumstances, my uncle would have
+wished to keep you away."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Costello looked relieved.</p>
+
+<p>"I am almost inclined to go further," he continued, "and to say that he
+must have anticipated your return."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because in his will he gives you your income unconditionally, and only
+expresses a wish that you should not come back."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it so really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. But you have a copy of the will."</p>
+
+<p>"It has not been unpacked since we came from Canada. I had made it so
+much my duty to obey the request that I had forgotten it had no
+condition attached to it."</p>
+
+<p>"It has none."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad; and you think he would have changed his mind now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so. Especially as it seems to me Lucia is likely to settle in
+England."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed. That was the second thing I wanted to speak to you about."</p>
+
+<p>"They are engaged, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; it has been the wish of my heart for years. Maurice is like a son
+to me."</p>
+
+<p>They discussed the matter in its more commonplace aspect. The wealth and
+position of the bridegroom elect were points as to which Mr. Wynter felt
+it his business to inquire, and when he found these so satisfactory, he
+congratulated his cousin with great cordiality, and plainly expressed
+his opinion that delays in such a case were useless and objectionable.
+He liked Lucia, and admired her, and thought, too, that there would be
+no better way of blotting out the remembrance of the mother's
+unfortunate marriage than by a prosperous one on the part of the
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime Mrs. Wynter sat in an easy-chair by her dressing-table, and her
+daughter was curled up on the floor near her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, mamma," Miss Wynter said, "you see I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> was right. I knew perfectly
+well that there must be some romance at the bottom of it all."</p>
+
+<p>"You were very wise, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"And, mamma, if I had seen Lucia, I should have been still more sure.
+Why, she is perfectly lovely! I hope she will let me be her bridesmaid."</p>
+
+<p>"Tiny, you know I don't approve of your talking in that way."</p>
+
+<p>"What way, mamma? Of course, they are going to be married. Anybody can
+see that."</p>
+
+<p>"If they are, no doubt we shall hear in good time."</p>
+
+<p>"And I am sure, if either of us were to marry half as well, the whole
+house would be in a flutter. I mean to be very good friends with Lucia,
+and then, perhaps, she will invite me to go and see her. And I <i>must</i> be
+her bridesmaid, because I am her nearest relation; and she can't have
+any friends in England, and I shall make her let me have a white dress
+with blue ribbons."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wynter still reproved, but she smiled, too; and Tiny being a
+spoiled child, needed no greater encouragement. She stopped in her
+mother's room until she heard Mr. Wynter coming, when she fled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
+dishevelled, to her own, and dropped asleep, to dream of following Lucia
+up the aisle of an impossible church, dressed in white with ribbons of
+<i>bleu de ciel</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Lucia perhaps had said to herself also that she meant to be good friends
+with Tiny. At all events, the two girls did get on excellently together;
+before the week which the Wynters spent in London was at an end, they
+had discussed as much of Lucia's love story as she was disposed to tell,
+and arranged that Tiny and her sister should really officiate on that
+occasion to which everybody's thoughts were now beginning to be
+directed.</p>
+
+<p>Another week found the Costellos at Dighton. They meant to stay a
+fortnight or three weeks, and then to return to town until the marriage;
+but of this no one of their Norfolk friends would hear a word. Lady
+Dighton, Maurice, and Mr. Leigh had made up their minds that Lucia
+should not leave the county until she did so a bride; and they carried
+their point. The wedding-day was fixed; and Lucia found herself left, at
+last, almost without a voice in the decision of her own destiny.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, these last weeks of her girlhood were almost too happy. She
+went over several times<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> with her mother and Lady Dighton to Hunsdon,
+and grew familiar with her future home; she saw the charming rooms that
+were being prepared for herself, and could sit down in the midst of all
+this new wealth and luxury, and talk with Maurice about the old times
+when they had no splendour, but little less happiness than now; and she
+had delicious hours of castle-building, sometimes alone, sometimes with
+her betrothed, which were pleasanter than any actual realization of
+their dreams could be.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, they had endless talks, in which they said the same things
+over and over again, or said nothing at all; but they knew each other so
+thoroughly now, and each was so completely acquainted with all the
+other's past that there was truly nothing for them to tell or to hear,
+except the one old story which is always new.</p>
+
+<p>One day, however, Maurice came over to Dighton in a great hurry, with a
+letter for Lucia to read. He took her out into the garden, and when they
+were quite alone he took it out and showed it to her.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she said. "It looks like a French letter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It is French. Do you remember your friend, Father Paul?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. Oh, Maurice! it cannot be about Bailey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, it is. But don't look frightened. I wrote to Father Paul, and
+this is his answer."</p>
+
+<p>"What made you write?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did not I say I would pension Bailey? <i>I</i> don't forget my promises if
+other people do."</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, you were only joking?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very far from it, I assure you. Your good friend undertook to manage
+it, and he writes to me that my letter only arrived in time; that Bailey
+was ill, and quite dependent on charity, and that he is willing to
+administer the money I send in small doses suitable to the patient's
+condition."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Maurice, it is perfect nonsense. Why should you give money to that
+wretched man? <i>We</i> might, indeed, do something for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Who are 'we?' You had better be careful at present how you use your
+personal pronouns."</p>
+
+<p>"I meant mamma and I might, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not see the 'of course' at all. Mamma has nothing whatever to do
+with it&mdash;nor even you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> This is simply a mark of gratitude to Mr. Bailey
+for a service he did me lately."</p>
+
+<p>Lucia let her hand rest a little less lightly on Maurice's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"And me too," she said softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Use your 'we' in its right sense, then, and <i>we</i> will reward him. But
+not unless you are sure that you do not repent having been frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you don't know how glad I was when mamma made me write that note.
+It did better than the one I tore up."</p>
+
+<p>"What was that? Did you tear one up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. After all, I don't believe you were as miserable as I was; for I
+wrote once; I did actually write and ask you to come&mdash;only I tore up the
+note&mdash;and you were consoling yourself with Miss Landor."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Landor! By the way, has she been asked to come over, for the
+tenth?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. You ought to ask her yourself. Why did not you propose to
+her, Maurice? Or perhaps you did?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I did not, you may thank Bailey. Yes, indeed, Lucia, you contrived
+so well to persuade me you never would care for me that I began to
+imagine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> it was best I should marry her; that is, supposing she would
+have me."</p>
+
+<p>"And all the while I was doing nothing but think of you, and of how
+wicked and ungrateful and all sorts of bad things I had been in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"And I&mdash;" etc. etc.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of their conversation that morning was much like it was on
+other days, and certainly not worth repeating. Lucia, however, took the
+first opportunity of speaking to Lady Dighton about Miss Landor, and
+seeing that her invitation for the wedding was not neglected.</p>
+
+<p>The tenth of July, Lucia's birthday and her marriage-day, came quickly
+to end these pleasant weeks of courtship. It was glorious weather&mdash;never
+bride in our English climate had more sunshine on her&mdash;and the whole
+county rung with the report of her wonderful beauty, and of the romantic
+story of these two young people, who had suddenly appeared from the
+unknown regions of Canada, and taken such a prominent and brilliant
+place in the neighbourhood.</p>
+
+<p>But they troubled themselves little just then, either with their own
+marvellous fortunes or with the gossip of their neighbours. Out of the
+quaint old church where generations of Dightons had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> married and
+buried, they came together, man and wife; and went away into "that new
+world which is the old," to fulfil, as they best might, the dream to
+which one of them had been so faithful. They went away in a great
+clamour of bells and voices, and left Mrs. Costello alone, to comfort
+herself with the thought that the changes and troubles of the past had
+but served to redeem its errors, and to bring her, at last, the fuller
+and more perfect realization of her heart's desire.</p>
+
+
+<h4>END OF VOL. III.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<p class='center'>
+PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,<br />
+LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
+</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, by Mrs. Harry Coghill
+
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+++ b/18132.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Canadian Heroine, 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
+       A Novel, Volume 3 (of 3)
+
+Author: Mrs. Harry Coghill
+
+Release Date: April 8, 2006 [EBook #18132]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANADIAN HEROINE ***
+
+
+
+
+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 CANADIAN HEROINE.
+
+  A Novel.
+
+
+  BY
+
+  THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES FROM THE BACKWOODS."
+
+
+    "Questa chiese Lucia in suo dimando,
+    E disse: Or ha bisogna il tuo fidele
+    Di te, ed 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. III.
+
+    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.
+
+
+Mr. Leigh was in a very depressed and anxious mood. His late
+conversations with Mrs. Costello had disturbed him and broken up the
+current of his thoughts, and even to some extent of his usual
+occupations, without producing any result beneficial to either of them.
+She had told him a strange and almost incredible story of her life; and
+then, just when he was full of sympathy and eagerness to be of use to
+her, everything seemed suddenly to have changed, and the events that
+followed had been wholly, as it were, out of his reach. He thought over
+the matter with a little sensation, which, if he had been less simple
+and generous a man, might have been offence. Even as it was, he felt
+uncomfortably divided between his real interest in his old friends, and
+a temptation to pretend that he was not interested at all. He
+remembered, too, with a serio-comical kind of remorse, the manner in
+which he had spoken to Mrs. Costello about Maurice. He was obliged to
+confess to himself that Maurice had never said a word to him which could
+be taken as expressing any other than a brotherly feeling of regard for
+Lucia; he had certainly _fancied_ that there was another kind of
+affection in his thoughts; but it was no part of the old soldier's code
+of honour to sanction the betrayal of a secret discovered by chance, and
+he felt guilty in remembering how far the warmth of his friendship had
+carried him. He considered, by way of tormenting himself yet further,
+that it was perfectly possible for a young man, being daily in the
+company of a beautiful and charming girl, to fancy himself in love with
+her, and yet, on passing into a different world and seeing other
+charming girls, to discover that he had been mistaken. It is true that
+if any other person had suggested that Maurice might have done this, Mr.
+Leigh would have been utterly offended and indignant; nevertheless,
+having proposed the idea to himself, he tried to look upon it as quite
+natural and justifiable. After all, this second theory of inconstancy
+rested upon the first theory of supposed love, and that upon guesses and
+surmises, so that the whole edifice was just as shadowy and
+unsubstantial as it could well be. But then it is curious to see how
+much real torment people manage to extract from visionary troubles.
+
+While his neighbours were still at Moose Island Mr. Leigh received two
+letters from Maurice. The first not only did not contain the usual note
+enclosed for Mrs. Costello, but there was not the slightest message to,
+or mention of, either her or Lucia. Mr. Leigh examined the letter,
+peeped into the envelope, shook the sheets apart (for Maurice's writing
+filled much space with few words), but found nothing. The real
+explanation of this was simple enough. Maurice had written his note to
+Mrs. Costello, and then, just as he was going to put it in the envelope,
+was called to his grandfather. In getting up from the table he gave the
+note a push, which sent it down into a wastepaper basket. There it lay
+unnoticed, and when he came back, just in time to send off his letters,
+he fancied, not seeing it, that he had put it into the envelope, which
+accordingly he closed and sent to the post without it. But of course
+Mr. Leigh knew nothing about this.
+
+The second letter was equally without enclosure or message, though from
+a very different cause. It was scarcely a dozen lines in length, and
+only said that Mr. Beresford was dying. Maurice had just received Mrs.
+Costello's farewell note; he was feeling angry and grieved, and could
+think of no better expedient than to keep silence for the moment, even
+if he had had time to renew his expostulations. He had not fully
+comprehended the secret Mrs. Costello entrusted to him, but in the
+preoccupations of the moment, he put off all concerns but those of the
+dying man until he should have more leisure to attend to them. Thus, by
+a double chance, Mr. Leigh was allowed to persuade himself that Maurice
+had either never had any absorbing interest in the Costellos, or that
+his interest in them was being gradually supplanted by others. In this
+opinion, and in a curiously uncomfortable and contradictory humour, his
+friends found him when they came back from the island.
+
+Mrs. Costello, on her part, had been entirely unable to keep Maurice out
+of her thoughts. As Christian's death, and all the agitation consequent
+upon it, settled back into the past, she had plenty of leisure and
+plenty of temptation to revert to her old hopes and schemes. Half
+consciously she had allowed herself to build up a charming fabric of
+possibilities. _Possibly_ Maurice might write and say, "It is Lucia I
+love, Lucia I want to marry. It matters nothing to me what her father is
+or was." (Quixotic and not-to-be-counted-upon piece of generosity!)
+_Possibly_ she herself might then be justified in answering, "The
+accusation brought against her father has been proved false--my child is
+stainless--and you have proved your right to her;" and it was
+impossible, she believed, that Lucia, hearing all the truth, should not
+be touched as they would have her.
+
+These imaginations, built upon such ardent and long-indulged wishes,
+acquired a considerable degree of strength during her visit to Mr.
+Strafford; and although a little surprised at not receiving, during her
+stay there, the usual weekly note from Maurice which she had calculated
+would cross her last important letter on the way, she came home eager to
+see Mr. Leigh, and to hear from him the last news from England.
+
+But when she had paid her visit to her old neighbour, she came back
+puzzled, disappointed, and slightly indignant. There was an air of
+constraint about Mr. Leigh, especially when he spoke of Maurice, which
+was so entirely new as to appear a great deal more significant than it
+really was; and this, added to the fact that two letters had been
+received, one written before, and the other after the arrival of hers,
+neither of which contained so much as a message for her or Lucia,
+suddenly suggested to Mrs. Costello that she was a very foolish woman
+who was still wasting her wishes and thoughts on plans, the time for
+which had gone by, instead of following steadily, and without
+hesitation, what her reason told her was the best and most sensible
+course. She so far convinced herself that it was time to give up
+thinking of Lucia's marriage to Maurice, as to be really in earnest both
+in completing her preparations for leaving Canada, and in rejoicing at
+the receipt of a letter from her cousin expressing his perfect approval
+of her decision to return to Europe.
+
+This letter even Lucia could not help acknowledge to be thoroughly kind
+and kinsmanlike. Mr. Wynter proposed to meet them at Havre, and, if
+possible, accompany them to Paris.
+
+"If you are travelling alone," he said, "I may be of service to you; and
+since you have decided on going to France, I should like to see you
+comfortably settled there. By that means, too, we shall have plenty of
+time to talk over whatever arrangements you wish made with regard to
+your daughter. However, I have great hopes that when you find yourself
+away from the places where you have suffered so much, and near your own
+people, you will grow quite strong again."
+
+There were messages from his wife and daughters, in conclusion, which
+seemed to promise that they also would be ready to welcome their unknown
+relatives.
+
+"Blood is thicker than water." Mrs. Costello began to feel that the one
+secure asylum for Lucia, in her probable orphanhood, would be in the old
+house by the Dee.
+
+The next time she saw Mr. Leigh, she told him her plans quite frankly.
+She did so with some suspicion of his real feelings, only that in spite
+of their long acquaintance she did him the injustice to fancy that he
+would, for reasons of his own, be glad that Lucia should be out of
+Maurice's way if he returned to Canada. She supposed that he had, on
+reflection, begun to shrink from the idea of a half-Indian
+daughter-in-law, and while she confessed to herself that the feeling
+was, according to ordinary custom, reasonable enough, she was at heart
+extremely angry that it should be entertained.
+
+"My beautiful Lucia!" she said to herself indignantly; "as if she were
+not ten times more lovely, and a thousand times more worth loving, than
+any of those well-born, daintily brought up, pretty dolls, that Lady
+Dighton is likely to find for him! I did think better of Maurice. But,
+of course, it is all right enough. I had no right to expect him to be
+more than mortal."
+
+And Lucia went on in the most perfect unconsciousness of all the
+troubled thoughts circling round her. She spoke honestly of her regret
+at leaving Canada when, perhaps, Maurice might so soon be there, though
+she kept to herself the hopes which made her going so much less sad than
+it would have been otherwise. She was extremely busy, for Mrs. Costello,
+now that she thought no more of returning to the Cottage, had decided to
+sell it; all their possessions, therefore, had to be divided into three
+parts, the furniture to be sold with the house, their more personal
+belongings to go with them, and various books and knickknacks to be left
+as keepsakes with their friends. It was generally known now all over
+Cacouna that Mrs. Costello was going "home," in order that Lucia might
+be near her relations in case of "anything happening,"--a thing nobody
+doubted the probability of, who saw the change made during the last few
+months in their grave and quiet neighbour. They were a little vague in
+their information about these relations, but that was a matter of
+secondary importance; and as the mother and daughter were really very
+much liked by their neighbours, they were quite overwhelmed with
+invitations and visits.
+
+So the days passed on quickly; and for the second time, the one fixed
+for their journey was close at hand. One more letter had arrived from
+Maurice, containing the news of his grandfather's death. It was short,
+like the previous one, and almost equally hurried. He said that he was
+struggling through the flood of business brought upon him by his
+accession to estates so large, and till lately so zealously cared for by
+their possessor. As soon as ever he could get away, he meant to start
+for Canada; and as the time of his doing so depended only on his
+success in hurrying on certain affairs which were already in hand, his
+father might expect him by any mail except the first after his letter
+arrived. There was no message to Mrs. Costello in this note, but, on the
+other side of the half sheet which held the conclusion of it, was a
+postscript hastily scrawled,
+
+"Tell Mrs. Costello to remember the last talk we had together, and to
+believe that I am obstinate."
+
+This postscript, however, Mr. Leigh in his excitement and joy at the
+prospect of so soon seeing his son, never found out. He read the letter
+twice over, and then put it away in his desk, without even remembering
+at the moment, to wonder at Maurice's continued silence towards his old
+friends. The thought did strike him afterwards, but he was quite certain
+that he had read every word of the letter, and was only confirmed in the
+ideas he had begun to entertain. He sighed over these ideas, and over
+the loss of Lucia, whom he loved with almost fatherly affection; but
+still, even she was infinitely less dear to him than Maurice; and if
+Maurice really did not care for her, why then, sooner than throw the
+smallest shadow of blame upon him, _he_ would not seem to care for her
+either.
+
+So Mrs. Costello learned that Maurice was coming, and that he had not
+thought it worth while to send even a word to his old friends.
+
+"He is the only one," she thought, "who has changed towards us, and I
+trusted him most of all."
+
+And she took refuge from her disappointment in anger. Her disappointment
+and her anger, however, were both silent; she would not say an ill word
+to Lucia of Maurice; and Lucia, engrossed in her work and her
+anticipations, did not perhaps remark that there was any change. She
+made one attempt to persuade her mother to delay their journey until
+after Maurice's arrival, but, being reminded that their passage was
+taken, she consoled herself with,
+
+"Well, it will be easy enough for him to come to see us. I suppose
+everybody in England goes to Paris sometimes?"
+
+And so the end came. They had not neglected Maurice's charge, though
+Maurice seemed to have forgotten them. Whatever was possible to do to
+provide for Mr. Leigh's comfort during his short solitude they had
+done. The last farewells were said; Mr. Strafford, who had insisted on
+going with them to New York, had arrived at the Cottage. Mrs. Bellairs
+and Bella had spent their last day with their friends and gone away in
+tears. All their life at Cacouna, with its happiness and its sorrow, was
+over, and early next morning they were to cross the river for the last
+time, and begin their journey to England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Maurice had full opportunity for the exercise of patience during the
+last weeks of his grandfather's life. It was hard to sit there day after
+day watching the half-conscious old man, who lay so still and seemed so
+shut out from human feelings or sympathies, and to feel all the while
+that any one of those hours of vigil might be the one that stole from
+him his heart's desire. Yet there was no alternative. His grandfather,
+who had received and adopted him, was suffering and solitary, dependent
+wholly on him for what small gratification he could still enjoy.
+Gratitude, therefore, and duty kept him here. But _there_, meanwhile, so
+far out of his reach, what might be going on? He lived a perfectly
+double life. Lucia was in trouble--some inexplicable shadow of disgrace
+was threatening her--something so grave that even her mother, who knew
+him so well, thought it an unsurmountable barrier between
+them--something which looked the more awful from its vagueness and
+mystery. It is true that he was only troubled--not discouraged by the
+appearance of this phantom. He was as ready to fight for his Una as ever
+was Redcross Knight--but then would his Una wait for him? To be forcibly
+held back from the combat must have been much worse to a true champion
+than any wounds he could receive in fair fight. So at least it seemed to
+Maurice, secretly chafing, and then bitterly reproaching himself for his
+impatience; yet the next moment growing as impatient as before.
+
+To him in this mood came Mrs. Costello's last letter. Now at last the
+mystery was cleared up, and its impalpable shape reduced to a positive
+and ugly reality. Like his father, Maurice found no small difficulty in
+understanding and believing the story told to him. That Mrs. Costello,
+calm, gentle, and just touched with a quiet stateliness, as he had
+always known her, could ever have been an impulsive, romantic girl, so
+swayed by passion or by flattery as to have left her father's house and
+all the protecting restraints of her English life to follow the fortunes
+of an Indian, was an idea so startling that he could not at once accept
+it for truth. In Lucia the incongruity struck him less. Her beauty, dark
+and magnificent, her fearless nature, her slender erect shape, her free
+and graceful movements--all the charms which he had by heart, suited an
+Indian origin. He could readily imagine her the daughter of a chief and
+a hero. But this was not what he was required to believe. He had read
+lately the description of a brutal, half-imbecile savage, who had
+committed a peculiarly frightful and revolting murder, and he was told
+to recognize in this wretch the father of his darling. But it was just
+this which saved him. He would believe that Christian was Mrs.
+Costello's husband and Lucia's father, because Mrs. Costello told him so
+herself and of her own knowledge--but as for a murder, innocent men were
+often accused of that; and when a man is once accused by the popular
+voice of a horrible crime, everybody knows how freely appropriate
+qualities can be bestowed on him. So the conviction which remained at
+the bottom of Maurice's mind, though he never drew it up and looked
+steadily at it, was just the truth--that Christian, by some train of
+circumstances or other, had been made to bear the weight of another
+person's guilt. As to the other question of his giving up Lucia, Maurice
+never troubled himself to think about it. He was, it must be confessed,
+of a singularly obstinate disposition, and in spite of his legal
+training not particularly inclined to listen to reason. Knowing
+therefore perfectly well, that he had made up his mind to marry Lucia,
+provided she did not deliberately prefer somebody else, he felt it
+useless to complicate his already confused ideas any further, by taking
+into consideration the expediency of such a connection. There was quite
+enough to worry him without that; and by some inconceivable stupidity it
+never entered his head that, while he was really so completely incapable
+of altering his mind, other people should seriously think he was doing
+it.
+
+Yet as he read Mrs. Costello's letter over a second time, he began to
+perceive something in its tone which seemed to say clearly--"Don't
+flatter yourself that the matter rests at all with you. I have decided.
+I am no longer your ally, but your opponent." At this a new element came
+into play--anger.
+
+He had been rather unreasonable before--now he became utterly so. "A
+pretty sort of fellow she must think me, after all," he said to himself.
+"I suppose she'd be afraid to trust Lucia to me now. However, if she
+thinks I mean to be beaten that way, she'll find that she is mistaken."
+
+He was walking up and down his room, and working himself up into a
+greater ill-humour with every turn he made.
+
+"If I could only get to Lucia herself," he went on thinking, "I should
+see if I could not end the matter at once, one way or the other--that
+fellow is clear out of the way now, and I believe I should have a
+chance; but as for Mrs. Costello, she seems to think nothing at all of
+throwing me over whenever it suits her."
+
+Poor Maurice! he sat down to write to his father in a miserable
+mood--Mr. Beresford had become suddenly and decidedly worse. The doctors
+said positively that he was dying, and that a few days at the utmost
+would bring the end. Maurice had stolen away while he slept, but his
+angry meditation on Mrs. Costello's desertion had taken up so much of
+his time, that Mr. Leigh's note was short and hurried. Ill-humour
+prevailed also to the point of the note being finished without any
+message (he had no time to write separately) to the Cottage.
+
+His packet despatched, he returned to his grandfather's room. Lady
+Dighton, now staying in the house, sat and watched by the bedside; and
+by-and-by leaving her post, she joined Maurice by the window and began
+to talk to him in a low voice. There was no fear of disturbing the
+invalid; his sleep continued, deep and lethargic, the near forerunner of
+death.
+
+"Maurice," Lady Dighton said, "I wish you would go out for an hour. You
+are not really wanted here, and you look worn out."
+
+"Thank you, I am all right. My grandfather might wake and miss me."
+
+"Go for a little while. Half an hour's gallop would do you good."
+
+Maurice laughed impatiently.
+
+"Why should I want doing good to? It is you, I should think, who ought
+to go out."
+
+"I was out yesterday. Are you still anxious about your father and
+Canada?"
+
+Lady Dighton's straightforward question meant to be answered.
+
+"Yes," Maurice said rather crossly. "I am anxious and worried."
+
+"You can do no good by writing?"
+
+"I seem to do harm. Don't talk to me about it, Louisa. Nothing but my
+being there could have done any good, and now it is most likely too
+late."
+
+She saw plainly enough the fight that was going on--impatience,
+eagerness, selfishness of a kind, on one side--duty and compassion on
+the other. She had no scruple about seeing just as much of her cousin's
+humour as his looks and manner could tell her, and she perceived that at
+the moment it was anything but a good or heroic one. She thought it
+possible that it would have been a relief to him to have struck, or
+shaken, or even kicked something or somebody; and yet she was not at all
+tempted to think the worse of him. She did not understand, of course,
+the late aggravations of his trouble; but she knew that he loved loyally
+and thought his love in danger, and she gave him plenty of sympathy,
+whatever that might be worth. She had obtained a considerable amount of
+influence over him, and used it, in general, for his good. At present he
+was in rather an unmanageable mood, but still she did not mean to let
+him escape her.
+
+"He looks dreadfully worried, poor boy!" she said to herself. "Being
+shut up here day after day must be bad for him. I shall _make_ Sir John
+take him out to-morrow."
+
+But when to-morrow came, and Sir John paid his daily visit to his wife,
+she had other things to think about. He found the servants lingering
+about the halls and staircases in silent excitement, and in the sick
+room a little group watching, as they stood round the bed, for the old
+man's final falling asleep.
+
+He had been conscious early in the morning, and spoken to both his
+grandchildren; but gradually, so very gradually that they could not say
+"he changed at such an hour," the heavy rigidity of death closed upon
+his already paralysed limbs, and his eyes grew dimmer. It was a very
+quiet peaceful closing of a long life, which, except that it had been
+sometimes hard and proud, had passed in usefulness and honour. And so,
+towards sunset, some one said, "He is gone," and laid a hand gently upon
+the stiffening eyelids.
+
+Sir John took his wife away to her room, and there she leaned her head
+against his shoulder and cried, not very bitterly, but with real
+affection for her grandfather. Maurice went away also, very grave, and
+thinking tenderly of the many kind words and deeds which had marked the
+months of his stay at Hunsdon. And yet within half an hour, Lady Dighton
+was talking to her husband quite calmly about some home affairs which
+interested him; and Maurice had begun to calculate how soon he could get
+away for that long-deferred six weeks' absence.
+
+But, of course, although they could not keep their thoughts prisoners,
+these mourners, who were genuine mourners after their different degrees,
+were constrained to observe the decorous, quiet, and interregnum of all
+ordinary occupation, which custom demands after a death. Lady Dighton
+returned home next day, hidden in her carriage, and went to shut herself
+up in her own house until the funeral. Maurice remained at Hunsdon,
+where he was now master, and spent his days in the library writing
+letters, or trying to make plans for his future, and it was then that
+the letter with his lost message to Mrs. Costello was sent off.
+
+Yet the space between Mr. Beresford's death and his funeral was to his
+heir a tedious and profitless blank. He had till now been kept here by
+living powers, gratitude and reverence; death came, and handed his
+custody over to cold but tyrannous propriety. Now he rebelled with all
+his heart, and spent hours of each solitary day in pacing backwards and
+forwards the whole space of the great dim room which seemed a prison to
+him.
+
+The day before the funeral broke this stillness, two or three gentlemen,
+distant relations or old friends of his grandfather, came to Hunsdon,
+and towards evening there arrived the family solicitor, Mr. Payne. At
+dinner that day Maurice had to take his new position as host. It was, as
+suited the circumstances, a grave quiet party, but still there was
+something about the manner of the guests, and even in the fact of their
+being _his_ guests, which was unconsciously consoling to Maurice as
+being a guarantee of his freedom and independence. Next morning the
+house was all sombre bustle and preparation. Lady Dighton and her
+husband arrived. She, to have one last look at the dead, he to join
+Maurice in the office of mourner; and at twelve o'clock, the long
+procession wound slowly away through the park, and the great house stood
+emptied of the old life and ready for the commencement of the new one.
+
+The new one began, indeed, after those who had followed Mr. Beresford
+to the grave had come back, and assembled in the great unused
+drawing-room to hear the will read. Lady Dighton shivered as she sat by
+one of the newly-lighted fires, and bending over to Maurice whispered to
+him, "For heaven's sake keep the house warmer than poor grandpapa used
+to do."
+
+"Used" already! The new life had begun.
+
+There was nothing in the will but what was pretty generally known. Mr.
+Beresford had made no secret of his intentions even with regard to
+legacies. There was one to his granddaughter, with certain jewels and
+articles which had peculiar value for her; some to old friends, some to
+servants, and the whole remainder of his possessions real and personal
+to Maurice Leigh, on the one condition of his assuming the name and arms
+of Beresford.
+
+It was a very satisfactory will. Maurice, in his impatience, thought its
+chief virtue was that it contained nothing which could hinder him from
+starting at once for Canada. He told Mr. Payne that he wished to see him
+for a short time that evening; and after the other guests had gone to
+bed, the two sat down together by the library fire to settle, as he
+fancied, whatever small arrangements must be made before his going.
+
+He soon found out his mistake. In the first place the solicitor, who had
+a powerful and hereditary interest in the affairs of Hunsdon, was
+shocked beyond expression at the idea of such a voyage being undertaken
+at all. Here, he would have said if he had spoken his thoughts, was a
+young man just come into a fine estate, a magnificent estate in fact,
+and one of the finest positions in the country, and the very first thing
+he thinks of, is to hurry off on a long sea-voyage to a half-barbarous
+country, without once stopping to consider that if he were to be
+drowned, or killed in a railway accident, or lost in the woods, the
+estate might fall into Chancery, or at the best go to a woman. Mr. Payne
+mentally trembled at such rashness, and he expressed enough of the
+horror he felt, to make Maurice aware that it really was a less simple
+matter than he had supposed, and that his new fortunes had their claims
+and drawbacks. Mr. Payne followed up his first blow with others. He
+immediately began to ask, "If you go, what do you wish done in such a
+case?" And the cases were so many that Maurice, in spite of the
+knowledge Mr. Beresford had made him acquire of his affairs, became
+really puzzled and harassed. Finally, he saw that a delay of a week
+would be inevitable; and the solicitor, having gained the day so far,
+relented, and allowed him to hope that after a week's application to
+business, he would be in a position to please himself.
+
+Next day Maurice was left alone at Hunsdon. He wrote his last letter to
+his father, and being determined to follow it himself so shortly, he
+sent no message to the Costellos. Then he set to work hard and steadily
+to clear the way for his departure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+One day Maurice rode over to Dighton, and told his cousin he was come to
+say good-bye. She was not, of course, surprised to hear that he was
+really going, but she could not help expressing her wonder at the
+lightness with which he spoke of a journey of so many thousand miles.
+
+"You talk of going to Canada," she said, "just as I should talk of going
+to Paris--as if it were an affair of a few hours."
+
+"If it were six times as far," he answered, "it would make no difference
+to me, except that I should be more impatient to start; and yet most
+likely when I get there I shall find my journey useless."
+
+Somehow or other there had come to be a tolerably clear understanding,
+on Lady Dighton's part, of the state of affairs between Maurice and
+Lucia--she knew that Maurice was intent upon finding his old playfellow,
+and winning her if possible at once. She naturally took the part of her
+new favourite; and believed that if Lucia were really what he described
+her, she would easily be persuaded to come to Hunsdon as its mistress;
+for, of course, she knew of no other barrier between the young people
+than that of Maurice's newly acquired importance. She thought Mrs.
+Costello had acted in a prudent and dignified manner in wishing to
+separate them; but she also thought, in rather a contradictory fashion,
+that since Maurice was intent upon the marriage, he ought to have his
+own way. So she was quite disposed to encourage him with auguries of
+success.
+
+"They are not likely to be in any hurry to begin a sea-voyage such
+weather as this," she said, shivering. "Two ladies, even if they are
+Canadians, can't make quite so light of it as you do."
+
+"I wish you may be right," he answered; "but if I should not find them
+there, I shall bring my father to England and then go off in search of
+them. A pretty prospect! They may lead me all over Europe before I find
+them."
+
+Lady Dighton laughed outright.
+
+"One would suppose that telegraphs and railways were not in existence,"
+she said, "and that you had to set out, like a knight-errant, with
+nothing but a horse and a sword to recover your runaway lady-love."
+
+Maurice felt slightly offended, but thought better of it, and laughed
+too.
+
+"I shall find them, no fear," he answered; "but when? and where?"
+
+Next morning he left Hunsdon, and went to London. The moment he was
+really moving, his spirits rose, and his temper, which had been
+considerably disturbed lately, recovered itself. He scarcely stopped at
+all, till he found himself that afternoon at the door of the solicitor's
+office, where he had some affairs to attend to.
+
+He got out of his cab and to the lawyer's door, as if everything
+depended on his own personal speed; but just as he went up the steps,
+the door opened, and a clerk appeared, showing a gentleman out. Even in
+the midst of Maurice's hurry, something familiar in the figure struck
+him; he looked again--it was Percy. They recognized each other; at the
+same moment, by a common impulse, they saluted each other ceremoniously
+and passed on their different ways.
+
+Maurice was expected, and he found Mr. Payne ready to receive him.
+Instead, however, of plunging at once into business as, a minute ago, he
+was prepared to do, he asked abruptly. "Is Mr. Percy a client of yours?"
+
+"I can hardly say that," the lawyer answered, surprised by the question.
+
+"I met him going out," Maurice went on.
+
+Mr. Payne rubbed his hands.
+
+"It is no secret," he said; "I may tell you, I suppose. He called about
+some points in a marriage settlement."
+
+Maurice felt his heart give a great leap.
+
+"Whose?" he asked sharply.
+
+Mr. Payne again looked surprised.
+
+"His own, certainly. He is going to marry a daughter of the Earl of
+C----, and I had the honour of being employed by the late Countess's
+family, from whom her ladyship derives what fortune she has. It is not
+very large," he added, dropping from his dignified tone into a more
+confidential one.
+
+Maurice was silent for a minute. His sensations were curious; divided
+between joy that Lucia was certainly free in _this_ quarter, and a
+vehement desire to knock down, horsewhip, or otherwise ill-use the
+Honourable Edward Percy. Of course, this was a savage impulse, only
+worthy of a half-civilized backwoodsman, but happily he kept it down out
+of sight, and his companion filled up the pause.
+
+"The marriage is to take place in a week. The engagement has been
+hastily got up, they say, at last; though there was some talk of it a
+year ago. He does not seem particularly eager about it now."
+
+"What is he marrying her for?" was Maurice's next question, put with an
+utter disregard of all possibilities of sentiment in the matter--the man
+whom Lucia _might_ have loved could not but be indifferent to all other
+women.
+
+"It's not a bad match," Mr. Payne answered, putting his head on one side
+as if to consider it critically. "Not much money, but a good
+connection--excellent."
+
+Whereupon they dismissed Percy and his affairs, and went to work.
+
+Late that night, for no reason but because he could not rest in London,
+Maurice started for Liverpool. The steamer did not sail till afternoon,
+and there would have been plenty of time for him to go down in the
+morning; but he chose do otherwise, and consequently found himself in
+the streets of Liverpool in the miserable cold darkness of the winter
+dawn. Of course, there was nothing to be done then, but go to a hotel
+and get some breakfast and such warmth as was to be had. He felt cross
+and miserable, and half wished he had stayed in London.
+
+However the fire burnt up, breakfast came, and the dingy fog began to
+roll away a little from before the windows. He went out and walked about
+the city. He stared at the public buildings without seeing them; then at
+the shop-windows, till he suddenly found himself in front of a
+jeweller's, and it occurred to him that he would go in and buy a ring
+which would fit a slender finger in case of need. He went in
+accordingly, and after looking at some dozens, at last fixed upon one.
+He knew the exact size, for he had once taken a ring of Lucia's and
+tried to put it on his little finger; it would not go over the middle
+joint, but persisted in sticking fast just where the one he bought
+stopped. It was a magnificent little affair--almost enough to bribe a
+girl to say "Yes" for the pleasure of wearing it, and Maurice
+congratulated himself on the happy inspiration. Being in a tempting
+shop, he also bethought himself of carrying out with him some trifling
+gifts for his old friends; and by the time he had finished his
+selection, he found to his great satisfaction that he might return to
+the hotel for his luggage, and go on board ship at once.
+
+The small steamer which was to carry the passengers out to the 'India'
+was already beginning to take on her load when Maurice arrived. The fog,
+which had partially cleared away in the town, lay heavy and brown over
+the river; the wet dirty deck, the piles of luggage, and groups of
+people were all muffled in it, and looked shapeless and miserable in the
+gloom. Hurry and apparent confusion were to be seen everywhere, but only
+for a short time. The loading was soon completed, and they moved away
+into the river.
+
+Then came another transfer--passengers, trunks, mail-bags all poured on
+to the 'India's' deck. Last farewells were said--friends parted, some
+for a few weeks, some for ever--the great paddles began to move, and the
+voyage was begun.
+
+As they went down the river, snow began to fall. It filled the air and
+covered the deck with wet, slowly moving flakes, and the water which
+swallowed it up all round the ship looked duller and darker by contrast.
+Everybody went below, most people occupied themselves with arranging
+their possessions so as to be most comfortable during the voyage;
+Maurice, who had few possessions to arrange, took out that morning's
+_Times_, and sat down to read.
+
+The first two or three days of a voyage are generally nearly a blank to
+landsmen. Maurice was no exception to the rule. Even Lucia commanded
+only a moderate share of his thoughts till England and Ireland were
+fairly out of sight, and the 'India' making her steady course over the
+open ocean. Then he began to watch the weather as eagerly as if the
+ship's speed and safety had depended on his care. Every day he went, the
+moment the notice was put up, to see what progress they had made since
+the day before, and, according as their rate of movement was slower or
+faster, his day and night were serene or disturbed.
+
+The number of passengers was small. With what there were he soon formed
+the kind of acquaintance which people shut up together for a certain
+time generally make with each other. Everybody was eager for the
+conclusion of the voyage, for the weather, though on the whole fine, was
+intensely cold, and only the bravest or hardiest could venture to spend
+much time on deck. Down below every device for killing time was in
+requisition; but in spite of all, the question, "When shall we reach New
+York?" was discussed over and over again; and each indication of their
+voyage being by a few hours shorter than they had a right to expect, was
+hailed with the greatest delight.
+
+One day when they were really near the end of their voyage, Maurice and
+a fellow-passenger, a young man of about his own age, were walking
+briskly up and down the deck, trying to keep themselves warm, and
+talking of Canada, to which they were both bound. A sailor who had come
+for some purpose to the part of the deck where they were, suddenly
+called their attention to a curl of smoke far off on the horizon; it was
+something homeward bound, he said--he could not tell what, but they
+would most likely pass near each other.
+
+The two young men had been thinking of going down, but the idea of
+meeting a ship of any kind was sufficient excitement to keep them on
+deck. They continued their walk, stopping every now and then to watch
+the smoke as it grew more and more distinct. Presently the steamer
+itself became visible, and other persons began to assemble and guess
+what steamer it could be and how long it would be before they passed
+each other. Meanwhile the stranger came nearer and nearer; at last it
+could be recognized--the 'Atalanta,' from New York to Havre. Maurice
+borrowed a glass from one of the officers, and, going a little apart
+from the group on the deck of the 'India,' set himself to examine that
+of the 'Atalanta.' A sudden feeling of dismay had seized upon him. He
+had no more reason to suppose that Lucia was on board this steamer than
+he had to believe that she had sailed a week ago, or that she was still
+at Cacouna, and yet a horrible certainty took possession of him that, if
+he could only get on board that ship, so tantalizingly close at hand and
+yet so utterly inaccessible, he should find her there. He strained his
+eyes in the vain effort to distinguish her figure. He almost stamped
+with disappointment when he found that the distance was too great, or
+his glass not sufficiently powerful, for the forms he could just see, to
+be recognizable; and as the two steamers passed on, and the distance
+between them grew every moment greater, he hurried down to his cabin,
+not caring that any one should see how disturbed he was. He threw
+himself upon his little sofa, thinking.
+
+"I wonder if she suspected I was so near her. I wonder whether she
+looked for me as I looked for her. Not _as_ I did, of course, for she is
+everything to me, and I am only an old friend to her; but yet I think
+she would have been sorry to miss me by so little.
+
+"What an idiot I am! when I have not even the smallest notion whether
+she could be on board or not. Very likely I shall find them still at the
+dear old Cottage."
+
+But after his soliloquy he shook his head in a disconsolate manner, and
+betook himself to a novel by way of distraction.
+
+Two more days and they reached New York. They got in early in the
+morning, and Maurice, the moment he found himself on shore, hurried to
+the railway station. On inquiry there, however, he found that to start
+immediately would be, in fact, rather to lose, than to gain time. A
+train starting that evening would be his speediest conveyance; and for
+that he resolved to wait. He then turned to a telegraph office,
+intending to send a message to his father, but on second thoughts
+abandoned that idea also, considering that Mr. Leigh already expected
+him, and that further warning could do no good and might do harm.
+
+He spent the day, he scarcely knew how. He dined somewhere, and read the
+newspapers. He found himself out in the middle of reading with the
+greatest appearance of interest an article copied from the _Times_ which
+he had read in England weeks before. He looked perpetually at his watch,
+and when, at last, he found that his train would be due in half an hour,
+he started up in the greatest haste, and drove to the station as if he
+had not a moment to spare.
+
+What a Babel the car seemed when he did get into it! There were numbers
+of women and children, not a few babies. It was bitterly cold, and
+everybody was anxious to settle themselves at once for the night.
+Everybody was talking, sitting down, and getting up again, turning the
+seats backwards and forwards to suit their parties, or their fancies,
+soothing the shivering, crying children, or discussing the probability
+of being impeded by the snow. But when the train was fairly in motion,
+when the conductor had made his progress through the cars, when
+everybody had got their tickets, and there was no more to be done, all
+subsided gradually into a dull sleepy quiet, broken occasionally by a
+child's cry, but still undisturbed enough to let those passengers who
+did not care to sleep, think in peace.
+
+Maurice thought, uselessly, but persistently. He thought of the past,
+when he had been quite happy, looking forward to a laborious life with
+Lucia to brighten it. He thought of the future which must now have one
+of two aspects--either cold, matter-of-fact and solitary, in the great
+empty house at Hunsdon without Lucia, or bright and perfect beyond even
+his former dreams, in that same great old house with her. He meant to
+win her, however, sooner or later, and the real trouble which he feared
+at present was nothing worse than delay.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello and Lucia found their journey from Cacouna to New York a
+very melancholy one. They had gone through so much already, that change
+and travel had no power to stimulate their overstrained nerves to any
+further excitement; the time of reaction had begun, and a sort of
+languid indifference, which was in itself a misery, seemed to have taken
+possession of them. Even Lucia's spirits, generally strong both for
+enjoyment or for suffering, were completely subdued; she sat by the
+window of the car looking out at the wintry landscape all day long, yet
+saw nothing, or remembered nothing that she had seen. Once or twice she
+thought, "Perhaps in a few days more, Maurice will be passing over this
+very line; he will be disappointed when he reaches home and finds that
+we are gone;" but all her meditations were dreamy and unreal--her mind
+acted mechanically. A kind of moral catalepsy benumbed her. Afterwards
+when she remembered this time, she wondered at herself; she could not
+comprehend the absence of sensation with which she had left the dear
+home and all the familiar objects of her whole life, the incapability of
+feeling either keen sorrow at the parting, or hope in the unknown
+future. The days they spent in hurrying hour by hour further away from
+Canada, always remained in her recollection little more than a blank,
+and she scarcely seemed to recover herself until Mr. Strafford touched
+her gently on the shoulder, late in the evening and said,
+
+"New York at last, Lucia."
+
+She got up then, in a hurried, confused way, and looked at her mother
+helplessly.
+
+Mrs. Costello, though to some degree she had shared Lucia's stunned
+feeling during their journey, had watched her child with considerable
+anxiety, and was glad of any change in her manner. She hastened to leave
+the train, thinking that the few hours' rest they would have before
+going on board the steamer would be the best remedy for this strange
+torpor. They found, however, when they reached the Hotel and went to
+bed, that weary as they were, they could not sleep. The unaccustomed
+noise of the city--the mere sensation of being in a strange place, kept
+them both waking, and they were glad to get up early, and go down to the
+vast empty drawing-room where Mr. Stafford could join them for the last
+time, and talk of the subjects which were near the hearts of all three.
+And yet, after all, they did not talk much. Those last hours which are
+so precious, and in which we seem to have so much to say, are often
+silent ones.
+
+The great house, like a city in itself, with its wide passages and
+halls, and groups of strangers passing constantly to and fro, had
+something dismal and desert like about it. Even the drawing-room was so
+large and so destitute of anything like a snug corner where people could
+be comfortable, that there was little chance of forgetting that they
+were mere wayfarers. When the gong had sounded, and everybody assembled
+for breakfast, the vast dining-room, coldly magnificent in white and
+gold, and all astir with white jacketed waiters, seemed stranger and
+more unhomelike still. Everything was novel, but for once novelty only
+wearied instead of charming.
+
+By noon they were on board the steamer. Mr. Strafford went on board with
+them and stayed till the last minute. But that soon came. The final
+good-bye was said; the last link to Canada and Canadian life was broken.
+They stood on deck and strained their eyes to watch the fast
+disappearing figure till it was gone, and they felt themselves alone.
+Then the vessel began to move out of the harbour, and night seemed to
+come on all at once.
+
+They went down together to their cabin, and seated themselves side by
+side in a desolate companionship. After a minute Lucia put her arms
+tightly round her mother, and laying her head upon her shoulder, cried,
+not passionately, but with a complete abandonment of all self-restraint.
+Mrs. Costello did not try to check those natural and restoring tears.
+She soothed her child by fond motherly touches, kissed her cheek or
+smoothed her hair, but said not a word until the whole dull weight that
+had been pressing on her had melted away. There was something strangely
+forlorn in their circumstances which both felt, and neither liked to
+speak of to the other. Leaving behind all the friends, all the
+associations of so many years, they were going alone--a feeble and
+perhaps dying woman, and a young girl--into a strange world, where every
+face would be new, and even their own language would grow unfamiliar to
+their ears. Even the hope which had brightened this prospect to Lucia's
+eyes, looked very dim, now that the time for proving it was at hand; and
+of all others, the person who occupied her tenderest if not her most
+frequent thoughts was the one who best deserved that she should think of
+him--Maurice Leigh.
+
+Two days of their voyage passed without events. They began to feel
+accustomed to their ship-life, and to make some little acquaintance with
+other passengers. In spite of the cold, Lucia spent a good many hours on
+deck. She used to go with Mrs. Costello every morning for a few quick
+turns up and down, and then, when her mother was tired, she would wrap
+herself up in the warmest cloaks and shawls that she could find, and
+take her seat in a quiet corner, where she could lose sight of all that
+went on about her and, with her face turned towards Canada, see nothing
+but the boundless sea and sky. On the third day she was sitting in this
+manner. There were a good many persons on deck but she was left
+tolerably undisturbed. Occasionally a lady would stop and speak to
+her--the men, who were not altogether blind to her beauty, would have
+liked perhaps to do the same, if her preoccupied air had not made a kind
+of barrier about her, too great to be broken through without more
+warrant than a two days' chance association; but she was thinking or
+dreaming, and never troubled herself about them.
+
+The day was very bright, and there was a ceaseless pleasure in watching
+the ripples of the sea as they rose into the cold silvery sunlight and
+then passed on into the shadow of the ship; or in tracing far away, the
+broad even track marked by edges of tiny bubbles, where the vessel's
+course had been. Gradually she became aware through her abstraction of a
+greater stir and buzz of conversation on the deck behind her; she
+turned, and seeing everybody looking in one direction, rose and looked
+too. A lady standing beside her said,
+
+"It is the Cunard steamer for New York. We think there are some friends
+of ours on board, but I am afraid we shall not pass near enough to find
+out."
+
+"Oh, how I wish we could!" Lucia answered, now thoroughly roused, for
+the idea that Maurice also might be on board suddenly flashed into her
+mind.
+
+She leaned forward over the railing of the deck, and caught sight of the
+'India' coming quickly in the opposite direction, and could even
+distinguish the black mass of her passengers assembled like those of the
+'Atalanta' to watch the passing vessel. But that was all. Telescopes and
+even opera-glasses were being handed from one to another, but she was
+too shy to ask for the loan of one, though she longed for it, just for a
+moment. Certainly it would have been useless. At that very time Maurice,
+standing on the 'India's' deck, was straining his eyes to catch but one
+glimpse of her, and all in vain. Fate had decided that they were to pass
+each other unseen.
+
+But this little incident made Lucia sadder and more dreamy--more unlike
+herself--than before. The voyage was utterly monotonous. In spite of the
+season, the weather was calm and generally fine; and they made good
+progress. The days when an unbroken expanse of sea lay round them were
+not many, and on the second Sunday afternoon land was already in sight.
+That day was unusually mild. Mrs. Costello and Lucia came up together
+about two o'clock, and, after walking up and down for some time, they
+sat down to watch the distant misty line which they might have thought a
+cloud on the horizon, but which was gradually growing nearer and more
+distinct.
+
+While they sat, a single bird came flying from the land. Its wings
+gleamed like silver in the sunlight, and as it came, flying now higher,
+now lower, but always towards the ship, they saw that it was no
+sea-bird, but a white pigeon--pure white, without spot or tinge of
+colour, like the glittering snow of Canada. It came quite near--it flew
+slowly and gracefully round the ship--two or three times, it circled
+round and round, and at last alighted on the rigging. There it rested,
+till, as the sunlight quite faded away and the distant line of land
+disappeared, it took flight again and vanished in the darkness.
+
+Perhaps the strong elasticity of youth and hope in Lucia's nature had
+only waited for some chance touch to set it free, and make it spring up
+vigorously after its repression. At any rate she found a fanciful omen
+in the visit of the snow-white bird; and began to believe that in the
+new country and the new life, there might be as much that was good and
+happy as in the old one. The last hours, full of excitement and
+impatience as the voyage drew to a close, were not unpleasant ones. Very
+early one morning a great commotion and a babel of unusual sounds on
+deck awoke the travellers, and the stewardess going from room to room
+brought the welcome news,
+
+"We are at Havre."
+
+Lucia was up in a moment. The stillness of the vessel, after its
+perpetual motion, gave her an odd sensation, not unlike what she had
+felt when it first began to move; but she was quickly dressed and on
+deck. There were a good many people there, and the water all round was
+alive with boats and shipping of every description, but Lucia's eyes
+naturally turned from the more familiar objects to the unfamiliar and
+welcome sight of land.
+
+A strange land, truly! The solid quays, the masses of building, older
+than anything (except forest-trees) which she had ever seen, the quaint
+dresses of the peasants already moving about in the early morning, all
+struck her with pleased and vivid interest. For the wider features of
+the scene she had at first no thought. Nature is everywhere the same,
+through all her changes. To those who love her she is never wholly
+unrecognizable, and when we meet her in company with new phases of human
+life, we are apt to treat her as the older friend, and let her wait
+until we have greeted the stranger. At least, Lucia did so. She had
+indeed only time for a hurried survey, for their packing had to be
+completed by her hands; and she knew that the arrival of the ship would
+soon be known, and that if Mr. Wynter had kept his promise of meeting
+them, he might appear at any moment. She went down, therefore, and found
+Mrs. Costello dressing with hurried and trembling fingers, too much
+agitated by the prospect of meeting her cousin, after so long and
+strange a separation, to be capable of attending to anything.
+
+All was done, however, before they were interrupted. They wrapped
+themselves up warmly, for the morning was intensely cold through all its
+brightness, and went up on deck together. Lucia found a seat in a
+sheltered place for Mrs. Costello, and stood near her watching the
+constant stream of coming and going between the ship and the shore. They
+had nothing to do for the present but wait, and when they had satisfied
+themselves that, as yet, there was no sign of Mr. Wynter's arrival,
+they had plenty of time to grow better acquainted with the view around
+them.
+
+The long low point of land beside which they lay; the town in front,
+with a flood of cold sunlight resting on its low round tower, and the
+white sugar-loaf shaped monument, which was once the sailor's
+landmark--the lofty chapel piously dedicated to Notre Dame de Bons
+Secours now superseding it--the broad mouth of the Seine and the Norman
+shore, bending away to the right--all these photographed themselves on
+Lucia's memory as the first-seen features of that new world where her
+life was henceforth to be passed.
+
+At last, when nearly all their fellow-passengers had bidden them
+good-bye and left the ship, they saw a gentleman coming on board whom
+they both felt by some instinct to be Mr. Wynter. He was a portly,
+white-bearded man, as strange to Mrs. Costello as to Lucia, for the last
+twenty years had totally changed him from the aspect she remembered and
+had described to her daughter. Perhaps his nature as well as his looks
+had grown more genial; at any rate, he had a warm and affectionate
+greeting for the strangers, and if he had any painful or embarrassing
+recollection such as agitated his cousin, he knew how perfectly to
+conceal them. He had arrived the day before, but on arriving had heard
+that the 'Atalanta' was not expected for twenty-four hours, so that the
+news of her being in port came to him quite unexpectedly. He explained
+all this as they stood on deck, and then hurried to see their luggage
+brought up, and to transfer them to the carriage he had brought from his
+hotel.
+
+Lucia felt herself happily released from her cares. She had no
+inclination to like, or depend upon, her future guardian; but without
+thinking about it, she allowed him to take the management of their
+affairs, and to fall into the same place as Mr. Strafford had occupied
+during their American journey.
+
+Only there was a difference; she was awake now, and hopeful, naturally
+pleased with all that was new and curious, and only kept from thorough
+light-heartedness by her mother's feeble and fatigued condition.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello seemed to grow stronger from the moment of their landing.
+Mr. Wynter decided without any hesitation that they should remain at
+Havre, at least until the next day. In the evening, therefore, they were
+sitting quietly together when the important question of a future
+residence for the mother and daughter came to be discussed.
+
+"I should like Lucia to see something of Paris," Mrs. Costello said,
+"and to do that we should be obliged to stay a considerable time; for,
+as you perceive, I am not strong enough to do much sight-seeing at
+present."
+
+"I see," Mr. Wynter answered, nodding gravely. "We might get you a nice
+little apartment there, and settle you for the winter; that would be
+the best plan. I suppose you don't mind cold?"
+
+"That depends entirely on the sort of cold. Yes; I think we should
+settle in Paris for a time, and then move into the country. Only I have
+a great fancy not to be more than a day's journey from England."
+
+"In which I sympathize with you. It will be very much more satisfactory
+to me to know that you are within a reasonable distance of us."
+
+Lucia sat and listened very contentedly to the talk of the elder people.
+To her, whose only experience of relationship, beyond her mother, was
+painful and mortifying, there was something she had not anticipated of
+novelty and comfort in this new state of affairs. Her cousin's tone of
+kinsmanship and friendliness was so genuine and unforced that she and
+her mother both accepted it naturally, and forgot for the moment that,
+to a little-minded man, such friendliness might have been difficult and
+perhaps impossible.
+
+They decided to start for Paris next morning, Mr. Wynter saying that he
+had arranged for a week's absence from England, and therefore would have
+plenty of time to see them fixed in their new residence before he left.
+Then the conversation glided to other subjects, and Lucia losing her
+interest in it, began to wonder where Percy was--whether they were again
+on the same continent--whether he would hear, through the Bellairs, of
+their movements--whether he thought of her. And from that point she went
+off in some indescribable maze of dreams, recollections, and wishes,
+through which there came, as if from a distance, the sound of voices
+talking about England--about Chester--about her mother's old home and
+old friends--and about her young cousins, the Wynters, and a visit they
+were to make to France when spring should have set in.
+
+In the midst of all, the sound of a great clock striking broke the
+stillness of the snowy streets, and, just after, a party of men passed,
+singing a clamorous French song, and stamping an accompaniment with
+their heavy shoes. Lucia smiled as she listened, and then sighed. In
+truth this was a new life, into which nothing of the old one could come
+except love and memory.
+
+Of course, they could not sleep that night. They missed the motion of
+the ship, which had lately lulled them; they could not shake off the
+impression of strangeness and feel sufficiently at home to forget
+themselves; and to Lucia, used to the healthy sleep of eighteen, this
+was a much more serious matter than to one who had kept as many vigils
+as Mrs. Costello. They appeared, therefore, in the morning to have
+changed characters; Lucia was pale and tired, Mrs. Costello seemed
+bright and refreshed.
+
+The rapid and uneventful journey to Paris ended, for the present, their
+wanderings. When, on the following day, they started out in search of
+apartments, Mrs. Costello looked round her in astonishment. More than
+twenty years ago she had really known something of the city; now there
+only seemed to be, here and there, an old landmark left to prove that it
+was not altogether a new and strange place. Lucia was delighted with
+everything. She no sooner saw the long line of the Champs Elysees than
+she declared that there, and nowhere else, their rooms must be found.
+
+"In the city, mamma," she said, "you could not breathe; and as for
+sleeping, you know what it was last night; and if we went further out,
+we should see nothing."
+
+Mrs. Costello was too pleased to see her daughter looking and speaking
+with something of her old liveliness to be inclined to oppose her
+fancies, only she said with a smile,
+
+"The Champs Elysees is expensive--remember that, Lucia--and I am going
+to make you keeper of the purse."
+
+"Very well, mamma, if it is too dear, of course there is no more to be
+said; but you don't object to our trying to get something here, do you?"
+
+"Decidedly not. Let us try by all means."
+
+They found apartments readily enough; but to find any suited to their
+means was, as Mrs. Costello anticipated, anything but an easy matter.
+Lucia began, before the morning was over, to realize the fact that their
+L400 a year, which had been a perfectly comfortable income in Canada,
+would require very careful management to afford them at all a suitable
+living in Paris.
+
+"It is only for a little while, though," she consoled herself. "In
+summer we shall be able to go into the country and find something much
+cheaper."
+
+So they continued their search, and at last found just what they wanted;
+though to do so, they had to mount so many stairs that Lucia was afraid
+her mother would be exhausted.
+
+"I do not think this will do, mamma," she said. "I should never dare to
+ask you to go out, because when you came in tired, you would have all
+this fatigue."
+
+But the rooms were comfortable and airy, and the difficulties of living
+"au cinquieme" were considered on the whole to be surmountable; so the
+affair was settled. Then came the minor considerations of a new
+housekeeping, and Margery was heartily regretted; though what the good
+woman would have been able to do where she could neither understand nor
+make herself understood, would not have been easy to say. Even Mrs.
+Costello, who, in her youth, had had considerable practice in speaking
+French, found herself now and then at a loss; and as for Lucia, having
+only a sort of school-girl knowledge of the language, she instantly
+found her comprehension swept away in the flood of words poured upon her
+by every person she ventured to speak to. "Never mind, I shall soon
+learn," she said in the most valiant manner; but, alas! for the present,
+she was almost helpless, and Mrs. Costello had to arrange, bargain, and
+interpret for both.
+
+They wound up their day's business by a little shopping, which, like
+everything else, was new to Lucia. The splendid shops, lighted up in
+the early dusk of the winter afternoon, were as different as anything
+could be from the stores at Cacouna. A sudden desire to be possessed of
+a purse full of money, which she might empty in these enchanted palaces,
+was the immediate and natural effect of the occasion on the mind of such
+an unsophisticated visitor. She became, indeed, so completely lost in
+admiration, that her mother made her small purchases without being able
+to obtain anything but the vaguest and most unsatisfactory opinions on
+such trifling affairs.
+
+Mr. Wynter derived considerable amusement from watching his young cousin
+and future ward. He told his wife afterwards that he had begun the day's
+work entirely from a sense of duty towards poor Mary; but that for once
+he had found that kind of thing almost as amusing as women seemed to do.
+The young girl with her half-Indian nature, and wholly Canadian--ultra
+Canadian--bringing up, was so bright, simple, and naive, that she was
+worth watching. Her wonderful beauty, and the unconscious grace of her
+father's people, kept her from ever appearing countrified or awkward;
+her simplicity was that of a lovely child, and was in no way discordant
+with the higher nature she had shown in the bitter troubles and
+perplexities of the past year. She felt safe now and hopeful,
+inconceivably, absurdly hopeful--yet there was this difference between
+the happiness of long ago and the happiness to-day, that then she
+_could_ not believe in sorrow, and now she only _would_ not.
+
+They went back to their hotel for another night. Next day they moved to
+the apartment they had taken, and submitted themselves to the
+ministrations of Claudine, their French version of Margery. Submitted is
+exactly the right word for Lucia's behaviour, at any rate. Claudine
+appeared to her to have an even greater than common facility of speech;
+it only needed a single hesitating phrase to open the floodgates, and
+let out a torrent. Accordingly, until her stock of available French
+should increase, Lucia decided to take everything with the utmost
+possible quietness. She would devote herself to her mother, and to
+becoming a little acquainted with Paris, and give Claudine the fewest
+possible occasions for eloquence.
+
+Before the two days which Mr. Wynter spent with them in their new
+dwelling were over, they had begun to feel tolerably settled. In fact,
+Lucia's spirits, raised by excitement, were beginning to droop a
+little, and her thoughts to make more and more frequent excursions in
+search of the friends from whom she was so widely separated. She thought
+most, it is true, of Percy, and her fancies about him were
+rose-coloured; but she thought, also, a little sadly, of the dear old
+home, and the Bellairs and Bella, and even Magdalen Scott, who had been
+an old acquaintance, if never a very dear friend. She had many wondering
+thoughts, too, about Maurice. Was he still in England? or was he in
+Canada? was he at sea? would he come over to see them? would he even
+know where to find them if he came? Of these last subjects she spoke
+freely to her mother, only she kept utter silence as to Percy. So it
+happened that Mrs. Costello, knowing her own estimate of her daughter's
+lover, and strangely forgetting not only how different Lucia's had been,
+but that in a nature essentially faithful, love increases instead of
+dying, through time and absence, comforted herself, and believed that
+all was now settled for the best. Neither Percy nor Maurice, it was
+evident, would ever be Lucia's husband. Nothing could be more
+satisfactory, therefore, than that she should have become indifferent
+to the one, and have only a sisterly affection for the other. And yet,
+with unconscious perversity, she was not satisfied. She allowed to
+herself that Maurice's conduct had been reasonable enough. He had
+accepted the common belief that Christian was the murderer of Dr.
+Morton; and the conclusion which naturally followed, that Christian's
+daughter, beautiful and good though she might be, was not a fit mistress
+for Hunsdon; to have done otherwise, would have been Quixotic. Yet in
+her heart she was bitterly disappointed. If he had but loved Lucia well
+enough to dare to take her with all her inherited shame, how richly he
+would have been rewarded when the cloud cleared away! Where would he
+find another like her? And now, since Maurice could change, who might
+ever be trusted?
+
+No doubt these meditations were romantic. If Mrs. Costello had been the
+mother of half-a-dozen children--a woman living in the midst of a busy,
+lively household, where motherly cares and castle-buildings had to be
+shared among three or four daughters--she would not have had time to
+occupy herself so intensely with the affairs of any one. As it was,
+however, this one girl was her life of life; she threw into her
+interests the hopes of youth and the experience of middle age. As Lucia
+grew up, she had watched with anxiety, with hope, and with fear, for the
+coming of that inevitable time when, either for good or evil, she must
+love. It had been her fancy that, if Lucia loved Maurice, all would be
+well; if she loved any other, all would be ill. But time had passed on,
+and brought change; not one thing had happened according to her
+anticipations. And she tried to believe that she was glad that it was
+so, while a shadow of dissatisfaction lay at the bottom of her heart.
+
+When Mr. Wynter left Paris, he did so with the comfortable conviction
+that his cousins were happily settled; and with the persuasion that, as
+they both appeared to have a fair share of common sense, they would soon
+forget their past troubles, and be just like other people.
+
+"I don't like Mary's state of health at present," he said to his wife;
+"and, if I am not mistaken, she thinks even worse of it than I do; but
+still, rest of mind and body may do a great deal; and now she is really
+a widow, and quite safe from any further annoyances, I dare say she will
+come round."
+
+"And her daughter?" asked Mrs. Wynter rather anxiously. "Do you think
+she would get on with the girls?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure, my dear. She is not much like them, certainly,
+or, indeed, like any English girl. She is wonderfully pretty, but quite
+Indian in looks."
+
+"Poor child! what a pity!"
+
+"I am not sure about that. She seems a good girl, and Mary says is the
+greatest comfort to her, so I suppose she is English at heart; and as
+for her black eyes, there is something very attractive about them."
+
+Mrs. Wynter sighed again. Lucia's beauty, of which it cannot be said
+that Mr. Wynter's account was overdrawn, lost all its advantages in her
+eyes by being of an Indian type. She could never quite persuade herself
+that her husband had not been walking about the streets of Paris with a
+handsome young squaw in skins and porcupine quills.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Poor Maurice! He came up the river early one glorious morning, and
+standing on the steamboat's deck watched for the first glimpse of the
+Cottage. His heart was beating so that he could scarcely see, but he
+knew just where to look, and what to look for. At this time of year
+there was no hope of seeing the fair figure watching on the verandah as
+it had done when he went away, but the curl of smoke from the chimney
+would satisfy him and prove that his darling was still in her old home.
+He watched eagerly, breathlessly. Everything was so bright, that his
+spirits had risen, and he felt almost certain he was in time. There, the
+last bend of the river was turned, and now the trees that grew about
+the Cottage and his father's house were visible--now the Cottage itself.
+But suddenly his heart seemed to grow still--there was the house, there
+was the garden where he and Lucia had worked, there was the slope where
+they had walked together that last evening--but all was desolate. No
+smoke rose from the chimney; and on the verandah, and on every ledge of
+the windows snow lay deep and undisturbed; the path to the river was
+choked and hidden, and by the little gate the drift had piled itself up
+in a high smooth mound. Desolate!
+
+When the boat stopped at the wharf, there were happily few people about.
+Maurice left his portmanteau, and taking the least public way hurried
+off homewards. It was too late--that was his only thought; to see his
+father, to know when they went, and if possible whither--his only
+desire. He strode along the road, seeing and thinking of nothing but
+Lucia. There was one chance, they might not yet have left Canada. But
+then that ship, and the curious sense of Lucia's nearness which he had
+felt when they passed it; she must have been on board! He felt as if he
+should go mad when he came to his father's gate and saw all looking just
+as usual, quite calm and peaceful under the broad wintry sunshine. He
+had only just sense enough at the very last minute to remember that his
+father was an invalid to whom the joy of his coming might be a dangerous
+shock. As he thought of this he turned round the corner of the house,
+and in a moment walked into the kitchen where Mrs. George, the old
+housekeeper, was busy washing up the breakfast-things.
+
+"Law, Mr. Maurice!" cried Mrs. George, and dropped her teacup and her
+cloth together--happily both on the table.
+
+Coming into the familiar room, and seeing the familiar face, brought the
+young man a little to himself. He held his impatience in check while he
+received Mrs. George's welcome, answered her questions, and asked some
+in return. Then he sent her in to tell his father of his arrival, and
+began to walk up and down the kitchen while she was away.
+
+In a minute or two she came out of the sitting-room, and he went in. Mr.
+Leigh had had his own troubled thoughts lately, but he forgot them all
+when he saw his son. Just at first there was only the sudden agitating
+joy of the meeting--the happiness of seeing Maurice so well--so
+thoroughly himself and yet improved--of seeing him at home again; but
+then came trouble.
+
+"So they are gone?" he said almost interrupting the first greetings, and
+the old man instantly knew that all his fancies had been a mistake, and
+that Maurice had come back to find Lucia.
+
+And they were gone; and he himself had been a coward and a traitor, and
+had distrusted his own son and let them go away distrusting him! He saw
+it now too late. A painful embarrassment seized him.
+
+"Yes," he said hesitatingly. "They went a week ago."
+
+"By New York?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In the 'Atalanta' for Havre?"
+
+"Yes. How did you know?"
+
+"I did not know. I only guessed. Where are they gone?"
+
+"I do not know. Mrs. Costello said their plans were so uncertain that
+she could not tell me."
+
+"Yet I should have thought, sir, that so old a friend as you might have
+had a right to be told what her plans were?"
+
+"She told no one--except that they would not stay long in any one place
+at present."
+
+Maurice walked to the window and sighed impatiently.
+
+"A pleasant prospect!" he said, "They may be at the other end of Europe
+before I can get back."
+
+He stood for a minute looking out, and tapping impatiently with his
+fingers on the window-sill, while Mr. Leigh watched him, troubled, and a
+little inclined to be angry. When he turned round again he had made up
+his mind that it was no use to get out of temper, a pretty sure proof
+that he was so already, and that the first thing to do was to find out
+exactly what his father and everybody else knew about the Costellos. He
+sat down, accordingly, with a sort of desperate impatient patience, and
+began a cross-examination.
+
+"Did they leave no message for me?"
+
+"Nothing in particular. All sorts of kind remembrances; Lucia said you
+would be sure to meet some day."
+
+"Did they never speak of seeing you in England?"
+
+"Never. On the contrary, my impression is that they had no intention of
+going to England."
+
+"That is strange; yet if they had they would scarcely have gone by
+Havre, unless to avoid all chance of meeting me."
+
+"Why should they do that?"
+
+Maurice said nothing, he only changed his position and looked at his
+father. Mr. Leigh had asked the question suddenly, with the first dawn
+of a new idea in his mind, but at his son's silent answer he shrank back
+in his chair breathless with dismay. So after all he _had_ been a
+traitor! With his mistaken fancies about change and absence, he had been
+doing all he could to destroy the very scheme that was dearest to him,
+and which he now saw was dearest to Maurice also. And he knew now that
+there had been something in Mrs. Costello's manner lately less friendly
+to Maurice than was usual. He had done mischief which might be
+irreparable. Guilty and miserable, he naturally began to defend himself.
+
+"If you had only told me!" he said feebly.
+
+"I had nothing to tell, sir. I went away, as you remember, almost at a
+moment's notice, to please you and my grandfather. I could not speak to
+Lucia then, because--for various reasons; but I know that Mrs. Costello
+was my friend. Afterwards she wrote to me when poor Morton was killed,
+and told me some story I could not very well make out, but which of
+course made no difference to me. Then came another letter with all the
+truth about her marriage, which she seemed to think conclusive, and
+which wound up by saying that she meant to take Lucia away--hide her
+from me in fact. My grandfather was very ill then, and I had no time to
+write to her, but my message just after his death was plain enough, I
+thought--what did she say to it?"
+
+Mr. Leigh dropped his eyes slowly from his son's face, and put his hand
+confusedly to his head.
+
+"What was it?" he said. "I can't remember."
+
+"Only two or three words. Just that all she could say did not alter the
+case, or alter me."
+
+This was rather a free rendering of the original message, but it was
+near enough and significant enough for Mr. Leigh to be quite sure he had
+never heard such words before. They would have given him just that key
+to his son's heart which he had longed for.
+
+"You must be mistaken," he answered. "I never received such a message as
+that."
+
+"It was a postscript. I had meant to write to her and had not time."
+
+"You must have forgotten. You meant to send it."
+
+"I sent it, I am certain. Have you my letters?"
+
+"Yes. They are in that drawer."
+
+Maurice opened the drawer where all his letters had been lovingly
+arranged in order. He remembered the look of the one he wanted and
+picked it out instantly.
+
+"There it is, sir," he said, and held out to his father those two
+important lines, still unread. Mr. Leigh looked at the paper and then at
+Maurice.
+
+"I never saw it," he replied. "How could I have missed it?"
+
+"Heaven knows! It is plain enough. And my note, which came in the letter
+before that; it was never answered. _That_ may have miscarried too?"
+
+"There was no note, Maurice, my dear boy; there was no note. I wondered
+there was not."
+
+"And yet I wrote one."
+
+Maurice was looking at his father in grievous perplexity and vexation,
+when he suddenly became aware of the nervous tremor the old man was in.
+He went up to him hastily, with a quick impulse of shame and tenderness.
+
+"Forgive me, father," he said. "I forgot myself and you. Only you cannot
+know the miserable anxiety I have been in lately. Now tell me whether it
+is true that you are stronger than when I left?"
+
+He sat down by the easy-chair and tried to talk to his father as if Mrs.
+Costello and Lucia had no existence; but Mr. Leigh, though he outwardly
+took courage to enjoy all the gladness of their union, was troubled at
+heart. It was a grievous disappointment, this coming home of which so
+much had been said and thought. No one could have guessed that the young
+man had been out into the world to seek his fortune, and had come back
+laden with gold, or that the older had just won back again the very
+light of his eyes.
+
+Anxious as Maurice had been to avoid notice at the moment of his arrival
+at Cacouna, he had been seen and recognized on the wharf, and the news
+of his coming carried to Mr. Bellairs before he had been an hour at
+home. So it happened that while the father and son sat together in the
+afternoon, and were already discussing the first arrangements for their
+return to England, a sleigh drove briskly up to the door, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Bellairs came in full of welcomes and congratulations.
+
+"I knew we might come to-day," Mrs. Bellairs said, still holding her
+favourite's hand and scanning his face with her bright eyes. "We shall
+not stay long, but it is pleasant to see you home again, Maurice."
+
+"Don't say too many kind things, Mrs. Bellairs," he answered, "or you
+will make me want to stay when I ought to be going."
+
+"Going! You are surely not talking of that yet?"
+
+"Indeed I am. We hope to be away in a fortnight."
+
+"Oh! if you _hope_ it, there is no more to be said."
+
+"If you knew how I have hoped to be here, and how disappointed I have
+been to-day, you would not be so hard on me."
+
+They had both sat down now and were a little apart, for the moment, from
+the others. Mrs. Bellairs was surprised at Maurice's words, though she
+understood instantly what he meant. He had never before given her a
+single hint in words of his love for Lucia, though she had been
+perfectly aware of it. She guessed now that his grandfather's death had
+changed his wishes into intentions, and that since he was in a position
+to offer Lucia a share of his own good fortune, he no longer cared to
+make any secret of his feelings towards her.
+
+"You did not expect that our friends would be gone," she asked in a tone
+which expressed the sympathy she felt and yet could not be taken as
+inquisitive. As for Maurice, he wanted to speak out his trouble to
+somebody, and was glad of this result of his little impetuous speech.
+
+"I was altogether uncertain," he answered; "I wanted to start from
+England a week sooner, and if I had done so, it seems, I should have
+found them here; but I was hindered, and for some reason or other, they
+chose to keep me in the dark as to their intentions."
+
+"Lucia often talked of you and of her regret at going away just when you
+were expected."
+
+"She did? Do you know where they are?"
+
+"No; and that is the strangest thing. I believe their plans were not
+quite fixed; but still Mrs. Costello was not a woman to start away into
+the world without plans of some kind, and yet no one in Cacouna knows
+more than that they sailed from New York to Havre."
+
+"It is incomprehensible, except on one supposition. Did you ever hear
+Mrs. Costello speak of my return?"
+
+"Not particularly. Don't be offended, Maurice, either with her or with
+me, but I did fancy once or twice that she wished to be away before you
+came. Only, mind, that is simply my fancy."
+
+"I have no doubt you fancied right; but I have a thousand questions to
+ask you. Tell me first--"
+
+"Maurice," interrupted Mr. Bellairs from the other side of the room,
+"what is this your father says about going away immediately? You can't
+be in earnest in such a scheme!"
+
+"I am afraid I am," Maurice answered, getting up and standing with his
+arm resting on the mantelpiece, "at least, if my father can stand the
+journey."
+
+Mr. Leigh, full of self-reproach and secret disturbance, vowed that the
+journey would do him good; that he was eager to see the old country once
+again. He had resolved, as the penance for his blunder, that he would
+not be the means of hindering his boy one day in his quest for Lucia.
+Nevertheless, the discussion grew warm, for Mr. Bellairs having vainly
+protested against a winter voyage for the Costellos, had his arguments
+all ready and in order, and had no scruple in bringing them to bear upon
+Maurice. Of course, they were thrown away, just so many wasted words;
+the angry impatient longing that was in the young man's heart would have
+been strong enough to overthrow all the arguments in the universe. Only
+one reason would have been strong enough to keep him--his father's
+unfitness for travel; and that could not fairly be urged, for Mr. Leigh
+was actually in better health than he had been for years, and would not
+himself listen to a word on the subject.
+
+Just before the visitors left, Maurice found an opportunity of asking
+Mrs. Bellairs one of his "thousand questions."
+
+"Mr. Strafford, of Moose Island, was Mrs. Costello's great adviser, does
+not he know?"
+
+"No; I wrote to him, and got his answer this morning. He only knew they
+would probably stay some time in France."
+
+She was just going out to get into the sleigh as she spoke. Suddenly
+with her foot on the step she stopped,
+
+"Stay! I have the address of a friend, a cousin, I think, of Mrs.
+Costello's in England. Mr. Strafford sent it to me."
+
+"Thanks, thanks. I shall see you in the morning."
+
+Maurice went back joyfully into the house. Here was a clue. Now, oh, to
+be off and able to make use of it!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Before going to bed on the very night of his arrival, Maurice found the
+list of steamers, and with his father's approbation fixed upon one which
+was advertised to sail in a few days over a fortnight from that time. It
+happened to be a vessel the comfortable accommodation of which had been
+specially praised by some experienced travellers, his fellow-passengers
+in the 'India,' and the advantages of going by it being quite evident,
+served to satisfy what small scruples of conscience Mr. Bellairs had
+been able to awaken. He wrote, therefore, to secure berths and put his
+letter ready to be taken into Cacouna next morning, when he should go to
+pay his promised visit to Mrs. Bellairs.
+
+It was early when Maurice awoke; he did so with a sense of having much
+to do, but the aspect of his own old room, so strange now and yet so
+familiar, kept him dreaming for a few minutes before that important
+day's work could be begun. How bare and angular it seemed, how shabby
+and poor the furniture! It never had been anything but a boy's room of
+the simplest sort, and yet it had many happy and some few sad
+associations, such as no other room could ever have for him. He recalled
+the long ago days when his brother and he had shared it together, and
+their mother used to come in softly at night to look that her two sons
+were safe and well,--the later years, when mother and brother were both
+gone, and he himself sat there alone reading or writing far into the
+night. He thought of the many summer mornings when he had opened his
+window to watch for the movement of Lucia's curtain, or for the glimpse
+of her girlish figure moving about under the light shadows of the
+acacias in the Cottage garden.
+
+But when he came to that point in his meditation, he sprang up
+impatiently, and the uncomfortable irritating feeling that he had been
+unfairly dealt with, tricked, in fact, began to take possession of him
+again. However, it only acted as a stimulant. He began to feel that he
+had entered into the lists with Mrs. Costello, and, regarding her as a
+faithless ally, was not a little disposed to do battle with her _a
+l'outrance_, and carry off Lucia for revenge as well as for love.
+
+Directly after breakfast he had out the little red sleigh in which last
+winter he had so often driven his old playfellow to and from Cacouna,
+and started alone. He had many visits of friendship or business to pay,
+but he could not resist going first to Mrs. Bellairs.
+
+After all, now that the first sharpness of his disappointment was over,
+it was pleasant to be at home and to meet friendly faces at every turn.
+He had to stop again and again to exchange greetings with people on the
+road, and even sometimes to receive congratulations on being a "rich man
+now," "a lucky fellow"--congratulations which were both spoken and
+listened to as much as if the lands of Hunsdon were a fairy penny, in
+the virtues of which neither speaker nor hearer had any very serious
+belief. In fact, there was something odd and incredible in the idea that
+this was no longer plain Maurice Leigh, the most popular and one of the
+poorest members of this small Backwoods world, but Maurice Leigh
+Beresford, of Hunsdon, an English country gentleman rich enough, if he
+chose, to buy up the whole settlement.
+
+Maurice went on his way, however, little troubled by his new dignity,
+and found Mrs. Bellairs and Bella expecting him. They had guessed that
+he would not delay coming for the promised address, and Mr. Strafford's
+note containing it lay ready on the table; but when he came into the
+room their visitor did actually for the moment forget his errand in
+seeing the sombre black-robed figure which had taken the place of the
+gay Bella Latour. He had gone away just before her wedding, he had left
+her happy, bright, mischievous,--a girl whom sorrow had never touched,
+who seemed incapable of understanding what trouble meant; he came back,
+full of his own perplexities and disappointments, and found her one so
+seized upon by grief that it had grown into her nature, and clothed and
+crowned her with its sad pre-eminence. There was no ostentation of
+mourning about the young widow, it is true, but none the less Maurice in
+looking at her first forgot himself utterly, and then remembered his
+impatience and ill-humour with more shame than was at all agreeable.
+
+To Bella also the meeting was a painful one. Of all her friends, Maurice
+was the only one who was associated with her girlish happiness, and
+quite dissociated from her married life and its tragic ending. The sight
+of him, therefore, renewed for the moment the recollections which she
+had taught herself to keep as much as possible for her solitary hours,
+and almost disturbed the calm she had forced upon herself in the
+presence of others.
+
+Mrs. Bellairs, however, used to her sister's calamity and ignorant of
+Maurice's feelings, did not long delay referring to the Costellos.
+
+"Here is Mr. Strafford's note," she said. "I wrote and begged of him to
+tell me by what means a letter would be likely to reach them, and this
+is his answer."
+
+It was only a few lines, saying that Mrs. Costello had told him
+expressly that she should remain for some time in France, and would
+write to her Canadian friends as soon as she had any settled home, but
+that in the meantime he believed her movements would be known by her
+relative, Mr. Wynter, whose address he enclosed.
+
+Maurice, whose anxiety was revived by the sight of this missive,
+examined it with as much care as if he expected to extract more
+information from it than in reality the writer possessed, but he was
+obliged to content himself with copying the address and giving the
+warmest thanks to Mrs. Bellairs for the help he thus gained.
+
+"I suppose," she asked smiling, "that I may entrust you with a message
+for Lucia?"
+
+Maurice looked rather foolish. He certainly did mean to follow up the
+clue in person, but he had not said so, and he fancied Mrs. Bellairs was
+inclined to laugh at him for his romance.
+
+"I will carry it if you do," he answered, "but I do not promise when it
+will be delivered."
+
+"You are really going to England at the time you spoke of last night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And from England to France is not much of a journey?"
+
+"No; and I have not seen Paris yet."
+
+"Ah! well, you will go over and meet with them, and rejoice poor Lucia's
+heart with the sight of a home face."
+
+"Shall I? Will they be homesick, do you think?"
+
+"_They?_ I don't know. _She_ will, I think--do not you, Bella?"
+
+"At all events, she went away with her mind full of the idea that she
+would be sure to see you before long."
+
+Perhaps this speech was not absolutely true, but Maurice liked Bella
+better than ever as she said it. He got up soon after, and went his way
+with a lighter heart about those various calls which must be made, and
+which were pleasant enough now that he saw his way tolerably clear
+before him with regard to that other and always most important piece of
+business.
+
+When he got home he set himself to consider whether it were better to
+write boldly to Mr. Wynter and ask for news of the travellers, or
+whether to wait, and after taking his father to Hunsdon run over himself
+to Chester, and make his request in person. There was little to be
+gained by writing, for Mr. Wynter's answer, even if it were
+satisfactory, would have to be sent to Hunsdon, and there wait his
+arrival, while Mrs. Costello would have plenty of time to hear of his
+application, and to baffle him if she wished to do so. He quickly
+decided, therefore, to do nothing until he could go himself to Chester,
+and from thence direct to the place, wherever that might be, where Lucia
+was to be found.
+
+Mr. Leigh's day, meanwhile, had been far less comfortable than
+Maurice's. He had made a pretence of looking over papers, and arranging
+various small affairs in readiness for their voyage, but his mind all
+the while had been occupied with two or three questions. Had Maurice
+really sent to him a note for Mrs. Costello which by any carelessness of
+his had been lost? Had the change he remembered in her manner been
+connected with the loss? Had Lucia cared for Maurice? Had either mother
+or daughter thought so ill of Maurice as he, his own father, had done?
+The poor old man tormented himself, much as a woman might have done,
+with these speculations, but he dared not breathe a word of them. He
+even went so far in his self-accusations and self-disgust as to imagine
+that if he had been his son's faithful helper, he might have prevented
+that flight from the Cottage which had caused so much trouble and
+vexation.
+
+Still, when Maurice came home full of energy and hope, and anxious to
+atone for his unreasonableness of the previous day, the aspect of
+affairs brightened a good deal, and the evening passed happily with
+both.
+
+But after that first day a certain amount of disturbance began to be
+felt in the household. People came and went perpetually. There was so
+much to be done, and so little time to do it in; and there was not only
+the actual business of moving, but innumerable claims from old friends
+were made upon Maurice, all of which had to be satisfied one way or
+other.
+
+And the days flew by so quickly. Maurice congratulated himself again and
+again on having provided so good a reason for leaving Cacouna at a
+certain time. "Our berths are taken," was a conclusive answer to all
+proposals of delay; and if it had not been for that, he often thought it
+would have been impossible to have held to his purpose. But as it was,
+all engagements, whatever they might be, had to be pressed into the
+short space of a fortnight, and under the double impulse of Maurice's
+own energies, and of that irrevocable _must_, things went on fast and
+prosperously.
+
+It was well for Mr. Leigh that these last weeks in his old home were so
+full of hurry and excitement, and that he was supported by the presence
+of his son, and by the thought that he was fulfilling what would have
+been the desire of his much-beloved and long-lost wife; for the pain of
+parting for ever from the places where so many years of happiness and of
+sorrow had been spent--from the birthplace of his children, and the
+graves which were sacred to his heart, grew at times very bitter, and
+needed all his absorbing love for his last remaining child, to make it
+endurable. It is quite true, however, that at other times, the idea of
+meeting his old neighbour of the Cottage in that far-away and
+half-forgotten England, and of seeing Maurice and Lucia once more
+together, as he could not help but hope they would be, cheered him into
+positive hopefulness and eagerness to be gone.
+
+Two days before their actual leaving, it was necessary for the household
+to be broken up. Maurice wished to go for the interval to a hotel.
+Cacouna had two,--long gaunt wooden buildings supposed to be possessed
+of "every accommodation,"--but so many voices were instantly raised
+against this plan, that it had to be given up, and Mrs. Bellairs, with
+great rejoicing, carried off both father and son from half-a-dozen
+other claimants. Literally, she only carried off Mr. Leigh, for Maurice,
+who had entirely resumed his Canadian habits, was still deep in the
+business of packing and of seeing to the arrangements for the morrow's
+sale; but he had promised to have his work finished before evening, and
+to join them in good time in Cacouna.
+
+As Mrs. Bellairs drove Mr. Leigh home in her own sleigh, flourishing the
+whip harmlessly over Bob's ears and making him clash all his silver
+bells at once with the tossing of his head, she could not help saying,
+
+"Don't you think now Maurice is such a rich man he ought to marry soon?"
+
+Her companion looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"Perhaps he is thinking of it," he answered.
+
+"When he is married," she went on with a little laugh, "he has promised
+to invite us to England."
+
+But Mr. Leigh did not smile.
+
+"I hope you will come soon, then," he said.
+
+"You think there is a chance?"
+
+"I think it will not be his fault if there is not."
+
+"And I think he is not likely to find the lady very obstinate."
+
+"What lady? _Any_ one or one in particular?"
+
+"I thought of one, certainly."
+
+"Lucia Costello?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You think she would marry him?"
+
+"Why not? Yes, I think so."
+
+"And her mother?"
+
+"Ah! I don't know; Mrs. Costello has a will of her own."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+In the old days there had been a sort of antagonism between Bella Latour
+and Maurice Leigh. They had necessarily seen a great deal of each other,
+and liked each other after a certain fashion; but Maurice had thought
+Bella too flighty, and inclined to fastness; and Bella had been
+half-seriously, half-playfully disposed to resent his judgment of her.
+But now, either because of the complete change in her character which
+the last few months had wrought, or from some other cause, Mrs. Morton
+and Maurice fell into a kind of confidential intimacy quite new to their
+intercourse. It was only for two days, certainly, but during those two
+days, and in spite of Maurice's occupations, they had time for several
+long and very interesting conversations.
+
+In the first of these, which had begun upon some indifferent subject,
+Bella surprised Maurice by alluding, quite calmly and simply, to the
+imprisonment of the unfortunate Indian, Lucia's father. He had naturally
+supposed that a subject so closely connected with her own misfortunes
+would have been too deeply painful to be a permitted one, and had,
+therefore, with care, avoided all allusion to it. In this, however, he
+did not do her full justice. The truth was, that in her deep interest in
+the Costellos, she had quietly forced herself to think and speak of the
+whole train of events which affected them, without dwelling on its
+connection with her own story. She never spoke of her husband--her
+self-command was not yet strong enough for that--nor of Clarkson; but of
+Christian, as the victim of a false accusation, she talked to Maurice
+without hesitation.
+
+Up to that time there had been no very vivid idea in his mind either of
+Christian himself, or of the way in which he had spent the months of his
+imprisonment, and finally died. Indeed, in the constant change and
+current of nearer interests, he had thought little, after the first,
+about this unknown father of his beloved. He had considered the matter
+until it led him just so far as to make up his mind, quite easily and
+without evidence, that Clarkson was probably the murderer, and that
+Christian, whether innocent or guilty, was not to be allowed to separate
+him from Lucia, and then, after that point, he ceased to think of
+Christian at all. But now, he received from Bella the little details,
+such as no letters could have told him, of the weeks since her husband's
+death--chiefly of the later ones, and there were many reasons why these
+details had a charm for him which made him want to hear more, the more
+he heard. In the first place she spoke constantly of Lucia, and it
+scarcely needed a lover's fancy to enable him to perceive how in this
+time of trial she had been loving, helpful, wise even, beyond what
+seemed to belong to the sweet but wilful girl of his recollection. He
+listened with new thoughts of her, and a love which had more of respect,
+as Bella described those bitter days of which Lucia had told her later,
+when neither mother nor daughter dared to believe in the innocence of
+the accused man, and when, the one for love, the other for obedience,
+they kept their secret safe in their trembling hearts, and tried to go
+in and out before the world as if they had no secret to keep.
+
+"Lucia used to come to me every day. I was ill, and her visits were my
+great pleasure; she came and talked or read to me, with her mind full
+all the while of that horrible idea."
+
+"She knew that it was her father?" asked Maurice. "I wonder Mrs.
+Costello, after having kept the truth from Lucia so long, should have
+told her all just then."
+
+Bella looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"She had told her before anything of this happened," she answered. "I
+believe Lucia herself was the first to suspect that the prisoner was her
+father."
+
+"And how did they find out?"
+
+"Mr. Strafford went and visited him."
+
+"Did you ever see him?"
+
+"No. Elise did for a few minutes just before his death; but I have heard
+so much about him that I can scarcely persuade myself I never did see
+him."
+
+"They were both with him at last?"
+
+"Yes. Poor Lucia never saw him till then."
+
+"Tell me about it, please."
+
+She obeyed, and told all that had happened both within her own knowledge
+and at the jail, on the night of Christian's death and the day preceding
+it. Her calmness was a little shaken when she had to refer to Clarkson's
+confession, though she did so very slightly, but she recovered herself
+and went on with her story, simply repeating for the most part what
+Lucia and Mrs. Bellairs had told her at the time. When she had finished,
+Maurice remained silent. He had shaded his eyes with his hand, and when,
+after a minute's pause, he looked up again to ask her another question,
+she saw that he had been deeply touched by the picture she had drawn.
+
+But Bella was really doing her friends a double service by thus talking
+to Maurice. It was not only that Lucia grew if possible dearer than ever
+to him from these conversations, but there was something--though Maurice
+himself would not have admitted it--in making Lucia's father an object
+of interest and sympathy, instead of leaving him a kind of dark but
+inevitable blot on the history of the future bride.
+
+On the evening before Mr. Leigh and his son were to start for England,
+as many as possible of their old friends were gathered together at Mr.
+Bellairs' for a farewell meeting. Every one there had known the
+Costellos; every one remembered how Maurice and Lucia had been
+perpetually associated together at all Cacouna parties; every one,
+therefore, naturally thought of Lucia, and she was more frequently
+spoken of than she had been at all since she left. It seemed also to be
+taken for granted that Maurice would see her somewhere before long, and
+he was entrusted with innumerable messages both to her and her mother.
+
+"But," he remonstrated, "you forget that I am going to England, and that
+they are in France--at least, that it is supposed so."
+
+"Oh! yes," he was answered, "but you will be sure to see them; don't
+forget the message when you do."
+
+At last he gave up making any objection, and determined to believe what
+everybody said. It was a pleasant augury, at any rate, and he was glad
+to accept it for a true one.
+
+When all the visitors were gone, and the household had retired for the
+night, Mr. Bellairs and his former pupil sat together over the
+drawing-room fire for one last chat. Their talk wandered over all sorts
+of subjects--small incidents of law business--the prospects of some
+Cacouna men who had gone to British Columbia--the voyage to England--the
+position of Hunsdon--and Maurice had been persuading his host to come
+over next summer for a holiday, when by some chance Percy was alluded
+to.
+
+"You have not seen or heard anything of him, I suppose?" Mr. Bellairs
+asked.
+
+"Yes, indeed, I have," Maurice answered, slowly stirring the poker about
+in the ashes as he spoke. "I met him only the other day in London."
+
+"Met him? Where?"
+
+"On a doorstep----," and he proceeded to describe their meeting.
+
+"I suppose you have heard of his marriage by this time."
+
+"No. I heard from Edward Graham, an old friend of mine, that he was
+going to be married, but that is the latest news I have of him."
+
+"Oh, well, Payne may have made a mistake. He told me it was coming off
+in a day or two."
+
+"As likely as not. He might not think it worth while to send us any
+notice."
+
+"The puppy! I beg your pardon, I forgot he was your cousin."
+
+"You need not apologise on that score. There is not much love lost
+between us; and as for Elise, I never knew her inclined to be
+inhospitable to anybody but him."
+
+"Was she to him?"
+
+"She was heartily glad to see the last of him, and so I suspect were
+some other people."
+
+"What people?"
+
+"Mrs. Costello for one. He was more at the Cottage than she seemed to
+like."
+
+Maurice hesitated, but could not resist asking a question.
+
+"Was he as much there afterwards as he was before the time I left?"
+
+"More, I think. Look here, Maurice; Elise first put it into my head that
+he was running after Lucia, but I saw it plainly enough myself
+afterwards, and I know you saw it too. I think we are old enough friends
+for me to speak to you on such a subject. Well, my belief is, that
+before Percy went away, he proposed to Lucia."
+
+"Proposed? Impossible!"
+
+"I don't know about that. He was really in love with her in his
+fashion--which is not yours, or mine."
+
+"And she?"
+
+"Must have refused him, for he went away in a kind of amazed ruefulness,
+which even you would have pitied."
+
+Maurice looked the reverse of pitiful for a moment.
+
+"But that is all supposition," he said.
+
+"Granted. But a supposition founded on pretty close observation. Only
+mind, I do not say Lucia might not be a little sorry herself. You were
+away, and a girl does not lose a handsome fellow like Percy, who has
+been following her about everywhere as if he were her pet dog, without
+feeling the loss more or less. At least that is my idea."
+
+"He has soon consoled himself."
+
+"My dear fellow, everybody can't step into possession of L10,000 a year
+all at once. Most people have to do something for a living, and the only
+thing Percy could do was to marry."
+
+They said good-night soon after this, and went upstairs, Maurice
+blessing the Fates which seemed determined to give him all possible hope
+and encouragement. Only he could not quite understand this idea of Mr.
+Bellairs'. He could imagine anybody, even Percy, being so far carried
+away by Lucia's beauty as to forget prudence for the moment; but he
+could not help but feel that it was improbable that Percy would have
+gone so far as to propose to Lucia unless he were sure she would say
+yes. Why, then, had she not said yes?
+
+Next morning the last farewells had to be said--the last look taken at
+the old home. Night found father and son far on their way to New York,
+and Maurice's eagerness all renewed by this fresh start upon his quest.
+
+There was little of novelty in the journey or the voyage. There were the
+usual incidents of winter travelling--the hot, stifling car--the snowy
+country stretching out mile after mile from morning till night--the
+hotels, which seemed strangely comfortless for an invalid--and then the
+great city with its noise and bustle, and the steamer where they had
+nothing to do but to wait.
+
+And, at last, there was England. There was the Mersey and Liverpool,
+looking, as they came in, much as if the accumulated dirt of the three
+kingdoms had been bestowed there, but brightening up into a different
+aspect when they had fairly landed and left the docks behind them. For
+it was a lovely March day--only the second or third of the month it is
+true,--and winter, which they had left in full possession in Canada,
+seemed to be over here, and the warm sunny air so invigorated Mr. Leigh
+that he would not hear Maurice's proposal to rest until next day, but
+insisted on setting out at once for Norfolk.
+
+As they drove to the railway they passed the jeweller's shop where
+Maurice had bought Lucia's ring. Alas! it still lay in his pocket, where
+he had carried it ever since that day--when would it find its
+destination? He was not going to be disheartened now, however. He was
+glad of the little disturbance to his thoughts of having to take tickets
+and see his father comfortably placed, and at the very last moment he
+was just able to seize upon a _Times_, and set himself to reading it as
+if he had never been out of England.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Maurice had telegraphed from Liverpool, and the old-fashioned carriage
+from Hunsdon met them at the last railway station. It was near sunset,
+and under a clear sky the soft rich green of the grass gleamed out with
+the brightness of spring. They soon turned into the park, and the house
+itself began to be visible through the budding, but still leafless,
+trees. Both father and son were silent. To the one, every foot of the
+road they traversed was haunted by the memories of thirty years ago; to
+the other, this coming home was a step towards the fulfilment of his
+hopes. They followed their own meditations, glad or sorrowful, until the
+last curve was turned, and they stopped before the great white pillars
+of the portico. Then Maurice remembered that this was his first coming
+home as master, and felt a momentary shyness take possession of him
+before his own new importance. He had been able during his absence to
+keep Hunsdon so much in the background, and to be so thoroughly the
+natural, portionless, Maurice Leigh. He jumped out of the carriage,
+however, and was too much occupied in helping his father, to think, for
+the next few minutes, of his own sensations at all. Then he discovered
+what he had not before thought about--that there were still two or three
+of the old servants who remembered his mother and her marriage, and who
+were eager to be recognised by "the Captain."
+
+And so the coming home was got over, and Mr. Leigh was fairly settled in
+the house from which so long ago he had stolen away his wife. After he
+had once taken possession of his rooms--the very ones which had been
+hers,--he seemed to think no more about Canada, but to be quite content
+with the new link to the past which supplied the place of his accustomed
+associations. And, perhaps, he felt the change all the less because of
+that inclination to return to the recollections of youth rather than of
+middle age, which seems so universal with the old.
+
+Maurice sent over a messenger to Dighton to announce their arrival, and
+to tell his cousin that he intended leaving home again after one day's
+interval. That one day was fully occupied, but, as he had half expected,
+in the afternoon Lady Dighton came over.
+
+She knew already of his disappointment, and had sympathised with it. She
+came now with the kind intention of establishing such friendly relations
+with Mr. Leigh as would make Maurice more comfortable in leaving his
+father alone. She even proposed to carry the old man off to Dighton, but
+that was decided against.
+
+"And you really start to-morrow?" she asked Maurice.
+
+"Early to-morrow morning. I cannot imagine what the railway-makers have
+been thinking about; it will take me the whole day to get to Chester."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Oh! there are about a dozen changes of line, and, of course, an hour to
+wait each time."
+
+"Cut off the exaggeration, and it is provoking enough. Is it in Chester
+this gentleman lives?"
+
+"No, three or four miles away, I fancy. I shall have to inquire when I
+get there."
+
+"And after you find him what will you do?"
+
+"If I get their address, I shall go straight from Mr. Wynter to them,
+wherever they are."
+
+"At St. Petersburg, perhaps, or Constantinople?"
+
+"Don't, Louisa, please. I thought you had some pity for one's
+perplexities."
+
+"So I have. And I believe, myself, that they are in Paris."
+
+"I wish they may be--that is, if I get any satisfaction from my
+inquiries. Otherwise, Paris is not exactly a place where one would
+choose to set about seeking for a lost friend, especially with about
+half-a-dozen sentences of available French."
+
+"Never fear. But if you should not find them, I would not mind going
+over for a week or two to help you; I should be of some use as an
+interpreter."
+
+"Will you come? Not for that; but if I do find them, I should so like to
+introduce Lucia to you."
+
+"To tell the truth, I am rather afraid of this paragon of yours; and you
+will be bringing her to see me."
+
+"I am afraid I am making too sure of that without your telling me so.
+After all, I may have my search for nothing. I do wish very much you
+would come over."
+
+"Well, at Easter we will see. Perhaps I may coax Sir John over for a
+week or two."
+
+"Thank you. I shall depend on that."
+
+"But remember you must send me word how you fare."
+
+"I will write the moment I have anything to tell."
+
+"Impress upon your father, Maurice, that we wish to do all we can for
+his comfort. I wish he would have come to us."
+
+"I think he is better here. Everything here reminds him of my mother,
+and he feels at home. But I shall feel that I leave him in your hands,
+my kind cousin."
+
+Maurice bade his father good-bye that night, and early next morning he
+started on his journey to Chester. What a journey it was! His account to
+Lady Dighton had been exaggerated certainly, but was not without
+foundation. Again and again he found himself left behind, chafing and
+restless, by some train which had carried him for, perhaps, an hour, and
+obliged to amuse himself as best he could until a fresh one came, in
+which he would travel another equally short stage. It was a windy,
+rainy day, with gleams of sunshine, but more of cloud and shower, and
+grew more and more stormy as it drew towards night. Before he reached
+Chester the wind had risen to a storm, and sheets of rain were being
+dashed fiercely against the carriage windows. At last they did roll into
+the station with as much noise and importance as if delay had been a
+thing undreamt of, on _that_ line at any rate; and Maurice hurried off
+to make his inquiries, and find a carriage to take him to Mr. Wynter's.
+
+So far, certainly, he prospered. He found that his destination was
+between four and five miles from the city, but it was perfectly well
+known, and a carriage was soon ready to take him on.
+
+The road seemed very long, as an unknown road travelled in darkness and
+in haste generally does. The wind howled, and rattled the carriage
+windows, the rain still dashed against the glass with every gust, and at
+times the horses seemed scarcely able to keep on through the storm. At
+last, however, they came to a stop, and Maurice, looking out, found
+himself close to a lodge, from the window of which a bright gleam of
+light shone out across the rainy darkness. In a minute a second light
+came from the opening door, the great gates rolled back, and the
+carriage passed on into the grounds. There were large trees on both
+sides of the drive, just faintly visible as they swayed backwards and
+forwards, and then came an open space and the house itself. There was a
+cheerful brightness there, showing a wide old-fashioned porch, and,
+within, a large hall where a lamp was burning. Maurice hurried in to the
+porch, and had waited but a minute when a servant in a plain,
+sober-coloured livery came leisurely across the hall and opened the
+glass door, through which the visitor had been trying to get his first
+idea of the place and its inhabitants.
+
+"Was Mr. Wynter in?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Was he expected?"
+
+"Not to-night, certainly--perhaps not to-morrow."
+
+"Mrs. Wynter?" That was a guess. Maurice had never troubled himself till
+then to think whether there _was_ a Mrs. Wynter.
+
+"She was at home, but engaged."
+
+Maurice hesitated a moment. "I must see her," he thought to himself, and
+took heart again.
+
+"I have made a long journey," he said, "to see Mr. Wynter; will you give
+my card to your mistress, and beg of her to see me for a moment?"
+
+The man took the card and led the visitor into a small room at one side
+of the hall, where books and work were lying about as if it had been
+occupied earlier in the day, but which was empty now. Then he shut the
+door and carried the card into the drawing-room.
+
+Mrs. Wynter had friends staying with her. There was a widow and her son
+and daughter, and one or two young people besides, as well as all the
+younger members of the Wynter family. The two elder ladies were having a
+little comfortable chat over their work, and the others were gathered
+round the piano, when Maurice's arrival was heard.
+
+"Who can it be?" Mrs. Wynter said doubtfully. "It is not possible Mr.
+Wynter can be back to-night."
+
+The eldest daughter came to the back of her mother's chair.
+
+"Listen, mamma," she said; "or shall I look if it is papa?"
+
+"No indeed, my dear. It can't be. Walter!" for one of the boys was
+cautiously unlatching the door, "come away, I beg."
+
+Meanwhile all listened, so very extraordinary did it seem that anybody
+should come unannounced, so late, and on such a night.
+
+Presently the door opened, and everybody's eyes, as well as ears, were
+in requisition, though there was only a card to exercise them on.
+
+"A gentleman, ma'am, who says he has come a long way to see master, and
+would you speak to him for a moment?"
+
+Mrs. Wynter took up the card, and her daughter read it over her
+shoulder.
+
+"Leigh Beresford?" she said. "I do not know the name at all. You said
+Mr. Wynter was from home?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. The gentleman seemed very much put out, and then said could
+he see you?"
+
+"I suppose he must;" and Mrs. Wynter began, rather reluctantly, to put
+aside her embroidery, and draw up her lace shawl around her shoulders.
+
+"But what a pretty name! Mamma, who can he be?"
+
+"And, mamma, if he is nice bring him in and let us all see him."
+
+"No, don't; we don't want any strangers. What _do_ people come after
+dinner for?"
+
+Mrs. Wynter paid no attention to her daughters, but having made up her
+mind to it, walked composedly out of the room, and into the one where
+Maurice waited. She came in, a fair motherly woman, in satin and lace,
+with a certain soft _comfortableness_ about her aspect which seemed an
+odd contrast to his impatience. He took pains to speak without hurry or
+excitement, but did not, perhaps, altogether succeed.
+
+"I must beg you to pardon me this intrusion," he said. "I hoped to have
+found Mr. Wynter at home, and I wished to ask him a question which I
+have no doubt you can answer equally well if you will be so good."
+
+"If it relates to business," Mrs. Wynter began, but Maurice interrupted,
+
+"It is only about an address. I have just arrived in England from
+Canada; I am an old friend and neighbour of Mrs. Costello, and have
+something of importance to communicate to her, will you tell me where
+she is?"
+
+Poor Maurice! he had been getting his little speech ready beforehand,
+and had made up his mind to speak quite coolly, but somehow the last few
+words seemed very much in earnest, and struck Mrs. Wynter as being so.
+She looked more closely at her guest.
+
+"Mrs. Costello is in France. Did I understand that you had known her in
+Canada?"
+
+"I have known her all my life. I spent the last summer and autumn in
+England, and did not return to Canada until after she had left, but she
+knew that I should have occasion to see her, or write to her as soon as
+I could reach home again, and I am anxious to do so now."
+
+"You are aware that Mrs. Costello wishes to live very quietly? Her
+health is much broken."
+
+"I know all. Mrs. Costello has herself told me. Pray trust me--you may,
+indeed."
+
+"You will excuse my hesitation if you do know all; but, certainly, I
+have no authority to refuse their address."
+
+She got up and opened a desk which stood on a table in the room. She had
+considered the matter while they were talking, and come to the
+conclusion that the address ought to be given, while at the same time
+she wished to know more of the person to whom she gave it.
+
+"I wish Mr. Wynter had been at home," she said after a minute's pause,
+during which she was turning over the papers in the desk, and Maurice
+was watching her eagerly. "He would have been able to tell you something
+of your friends, for he only returned home a week or two ago from
+meeting them."
+
+"Are they in Paris?"
+
+"Yes. Are you returning to Canada?"
+
+"No. Perhaps, Mrs. Wynter, you would like to have my address? My coming
+to you as I have done, without credentials of any sort, must certainly
+seem strange."
+
+"Thank you; you will understand that I feel in some little difficulty."
+
+"I understand perfectly." He wrote his name and address in full and gave
+it to her. "Mrs. Costello was a dear friend of my mother's," he said;
+"she has always treated me almost as a son, and I cannot help hoping
+that what I have to say to her may be welcome news."
+
+"Do you expect to see her, then, or only to write?"
+
+"I am on my way to Paris. I hope to see them."
+
+"Here is the address. You have had a long journey, the servant told me."
+
+"From Hunsdon. And the journey out of Norfolk into Cheshire is a
+tiresome one. Thank you very much. Can I take any message to Mrs.
+Costello?"
+
+"None, thank you, except our kindest remembrances. But you will let me
+offer you something--at least a glass of wine?"
+
+But Maurice had now got all he wanted. He just glanced at the precious
+paper, put it away safely, declined Mrs. Wynter's offers, and was out of
+the house and on his way back to Chester in a very short space of time.
+
+"What an odd thing!" Mrs. Wynter said as she settled herself comfortably
+in the easy-chair again.
+
+"Who was he, mamma? What did he want?"
+
+"He was a Canadian friend of your cousin Mary's wanting her address."
+
+"What! come over from Canada on purpose?"
+
+"It almost seemed like it, though that could not be, I suppose, for here
+is his address--'Maurice Leigh Beresford, Hunsdon, Norfolk.'"
+
+"Beresford?" said the widow, "Why the Beresfords of Hunsdon are great
+people--very grand people, indeed. I used to know something of them."
+
+"Did he look like a grand person, mamma?"
+
+"He seemed a gentleman, certainly. I know no more."
+
+"Was he young or old?"
+
+"Young."
+
+"Handsome or ugly?"
+
+"Need he be either?"
+
+"Of course. Which, mamma?"
+
+"Not ugly, decidedly. Tall, and rather dark, with a very frank,
+honest-looking face."
+
+"Young, handsome, tall, dark, and honest-looking! Mamma, he's a hero of
+romance, especially coming as he did, in the rain and the night."
+
+"Don't be silly, Tiny. Mamma, is not my cousin Lucia a great beauty?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello and Lucia had grown, to some degree, accustomed to their
+Paris life. Its novelty had at first prevented them from feeling its
+loneliness; but as time went on, there began to be something dreary in
+the absence of every friendly face, every familiar voice. Mrs. Costello
+would not even write to Canada until she could feel tolerably sure that
+her letters would only arrive after the Leighs had left; she had taken
+pains to find out all Mr. Leigh could tell her of Maurice's intentions,
+and she guessed that, for one reason or another, he would not be likely
+to stay longer in Cacouna than was necessary. Even when she wrote to
+Mrs. Bellairs she did not give her own address, but that of the banker
+through whom her money was transmitted.
+
+She felt sore and angry whenever she thought of Maurice. She had
+perceived Mr. Leigh's embarrassed manner, and guessed, by a
+half-conscious reasoning of her own, that he believed his son changed
+towards them, but she did not guess on how very small a foundation this
+belief rested. She had thought it right to give up, on Lucia's behalf,
+any claim she had on the young man's fidelity; but to find him so very
+ready to accept the sacrifice, was quite another thing. It was so unlike
+Maurice, she said to herself; and then it occurred to her that Mr.
+Beresford might have planned some marriage for his grandson as a
+condition of his inheritance. Certainly she had heard no hint of such a
+thing, and up to a short time ago she was pretty sure Maurice himself
+could have had no idea of it; yet it was perfectly possible, and Mr.
+Leigh might have been warned to say nothing to her about it. All these
+thoughts, though Maurice might, if he had known, have been inclined to
+resent them, had the effect of keeping him constantly in Mrs. Costello's
+mind; and she puzzled over his conduct until she came to have her wishes
+pretty equally divided; on one hand, desiring to keep to her plan of a
+total separation between Lucia and him; and on the other, longing to see
+or hear of him, in order to know whether her former or her present
+opinion of him was the correct one.
+
+It happened, therefore, that Maurice was much more frequently spoken of
+between the mother and daughter than should have been the case if Mrs.
+Costello had carried out her theories. If Lucia had been ever so little
+"in love" with him when she reached Paris, she would have had plenty of
+opportunity for increasing her fancy by dwelling on the object of it;
+but Mrs. Costello's wishes were forwarded by the very last means she
+would have chosen as her auxiliary. Lucia talked of Maurice because she
+thought of him as a friend, or rather as a dear brother. She said
+nothing of Percy, but she dreamt of him, and longed inexpressibly to
+hear even his name mentioned. She had heard nothing of him, except some
+slight casual mention, since he went away. He had said then that,
+perhaps in a year, she might change her mind; and she had said to
+herself, "Surely he will not forget me in a year." And now spring was
+coming round again, and all that had separated them was removed; there
+was not even the obstacle of distance; no Atlantic rolled between them;
+nay, they might be even in the same city. But how would he know? She
+could do nothing. She had done all in her power to make their parting
+final. How could she undo it now? She did not dare even to speak to her
+mother of him, for she knew that on that one subject alone there had
+never been sympathy between them. And she said to herself, too, deep in
+her own heart, that it must be a great love indeed which would be
+willing to take her--a poor, simple, half-Indian girl--and brave the
+world, and, above all, that terrible old earl and his pride, for her
+sake.
+
+Still she dreamed and hoped, and set herself, meanwhile, all the more
+vigorously because of that hope, to "improve her mind." She picked up
+French wonderfully fast, having a tolerable foundation to go upon and a
+very quick ear, and she read and practised daily; beside learning
+various secrets of housekeeping, and attending her mother with the
+tenderest care. But it was very lonely. Lucia had never known what
+loneliness meant until those days when she sat by the window in the
+Champs Elysees and watched the busy perpetual stream of passers up and
+down--the movements of a world which was close round about, yet with
+which she had no one link of acquaintance or affection. It was very
+lonely; and because she could not speak out her thoughts, and say, "Is
+Percy here? Shall I see him some day passing, and thinking nothing of my
+being near him?" she said the thing that lay next in her mind, "I wish
+Maurice were here! Don't you, mamma?"
+
+They had been more than a month in their new home. The routine of life
+had grown familiar to them; they knew the outsides, at least, of all the
+neighbouring shops; they had walked together to the Arc de Triomphe on
+the one side, and to the Rond Point on the other; they had driven to the
+Bois de Boulogne, and done some little sight-seeing beside. They had
+done all, in short, to which Mrs. Costello's strength was at present
+equal, and had come to a little pause, waiting for warmer weather, and
+for the renewal of health, which they hoped sunshine would bring her.
+
+One afternoon Claudine had been obliged to go out, and the little
+apartment was unusually quiet. Mrs. Costello, tired with a morning
+walk, had dropped into a doze; and Lucia sat by the window, her work on
+her lap, and her eyes idly following the constant succession of
+carriages down below. To tell the truth, she constantly outraged
+Claudine's sense of propriety, by insisting on having one little crevice
+uncurtained, where she could look out into the free air; and to-day she
+was making use of the privilege, for want of anything more interesting
+indoors. She had no fear of being disturbed, for they had no visitors;
+in all Paris, there was not one person they knew, unless--. Percy had
+been there a great deal formerly, she knew, and might be there now, but
+he would not know where to find them if he wished it; no one could
+possibly come to-day. And yet the first interruption that came in the
+midst of the drowsy, sunny silence, was a ring at the door-bell. Lucia
+raised her head in surprise, and listened. Mrs. Costello slept on. Who
+could it be? not Claudine, for she had the key. Must she go and open the
+door? It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated
+there was another ring, a little louder than the first.
+
+She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door. "I wish
+Claudine would come," she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely
+to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting.
+
+"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought
+dolorously; but there was clearly no help.
+
+She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there--a
+gentleman! She uttered one little cry--
+
+"Maurice!"
+
+And then they were both standing inside the closed door; and he held her
+two hands in his, and they were looking at each other with eyes too full
+of joy to see well.
+
+"Lucia!" he said; "just yourself." But somehow his voice was not quite
+steady, and he dare not trust it any further.
+
+"We wanted you so, and you are come. Oh, Maurice! you are good to find
+us so soon!"
+
+"Did you think I should not?"
+
+"I cannot tell. How could you know where we were?"
+
+"I went to Chester, and asked."
+
+"To Chester? To my cousin's? Just to find us out?"
+
+"Why not? Did not you know perfectly well that my first thought when I
+was free would be to find you?"
+
+He spoke half laughing, but there was no mistaking his earnestness in
+the matter; was not he here to prove it? Tears came very fast to Lucia's
+eyes. This was really like the old happy days coming back.
+
+"Come in," she said, "mamma is here." But mamma still slept undisturbed,
+for their tones had been low in the greatness of their joy; and Maurice
+drew Lucia back, and would not let her awake her.
+
+"She looks very tired," he said rather hypocritically; "and it will be
+time enough to see me when she awakes. Don't disturb her."
+
+Lucia looked at her mother anxiously. She knew this sleep was good for
+the invalid, and yet it might last an hour, and how could she wait all
+that time for the thousand things she wanted to hear from Maurice? The
+door of their tiny salle a manger stood a little open.
+
+"Come in here, then," she said, "we shall be able to see when she
+wakes--and _I must_ talk to you."
+
+Maurice followed obediently--this was better than his hopes, to have
+Lucia all to himself for the first half hour. She made him sit down in
+such a manner that he could not be seen by Mrs. Costello, while she
+herself could see through the open door and watch for her mother's
+waking.
+
+"And now tell me," she asked, "have you been back to Canada?"
+
+"I started the moment I could leave England after my grandfather's
+death, but when I reached Cacouna you were gone."
+
+"Dear old home! I suppose all looked just as usual?"
+
+"Nothing looked as usual to me. As I came up the river I saw that the
+cottage was deserted, and that changed all the rest. But indeed I had
+had a tolerable certainty before that you were gone."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Do you remember meeting a Cunard steamer two days out at sea?"
+
+"You were on board? How I strained my eyes to see if I could distinguish
+you!"
+
+"Did you? And I too. But though I could not see you, I felt that you
+were on board the ship we met."
+
+"I was sitting on deck, longing for a telescope. Well, it is all right
+now. Did you bring Mr. Leigh home?"
+
+"Yes; he is at Hunsdon, safe and well."
+
+"Hunsdon is your house now, is not it? Tell me what it is like?"
+
+"A great square place, with a huge white portico in front--very ugly, to
+tell the truth; but you would like the park, Lucia, and the trees."
+
+"It must be very grand. Does it feel very nice to be rich?"
+
+"That depends on circumstances. But now do you think you are to ask all
+the questions and answer none?"
+
+"No, indeed. There is one answer."
+
+"Do you like Paris?"
+
+"Well enough. It is very lonely here without anybody."
+
+"Are you going to stay here?"
+
+"For a month or two, I think."
+
+"You will not be quite so lonely then in future--at least if I may come
+to see you."
+
+"May come? That is a new idea. But are you going to stay in Paris, too?"
+
+"I must stay for a few weeks. And I expect my cousin Lady Dighton over
+soon, and she wants to know you."
+
+"To know _us_? Oh, Maurice! you forget what a little country girl I am,
+and mamma, poor mamma is not well enough to go out at all, scarcely."
+
+"Is she such an invalid, really? Have you had advice for her?"
+
+"It is disease of the heart," Lucia said in a very low sorrowful tone,
+all her gaiety disappearing before the terrible idea--"the only thing
+that is good for her is to be quiet and happy--and the last few months
+have been so dreadful, she has suffered so."
+
+"And you? But I have heard all. Lucia, I would have given all I am worth
+in the world to have been able to help you."
+
+"I often wished for you, especially when I used to fear that our old
+friends would desert us. I never thought _you_ would."
+
+"There is some comfort in that. Promise that whatever may come, you will
+always trust me."
+
+He held out his hand, and Lucia put hers frankly in it.
+
+Just at that moment there was a stir, and Mrs. Costello called "Lucia."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello woke up gradually from her doze. She had been dreaming of
+Cacouna, and that Maurice and Lucia were sitting near her talking of his
+journey to England. She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange
+room which she soon recognized, but still it seemed as if part of her
+dream continued, for she could hear the murmur of two voices, very low,
+and could see Lucia sitting in the adjoining room and talking to
+somebody. Lucia, in fact, had forgotten to keep watch.
+
+Mrs. Costello listened for a minute. It was strangely like Maurice's
+voice. She sat up, and called her daughter.
+
+Lucia started up and came into the salon. She bent down over her
+mother, and kissed her to hide her flushed face and happy eyes for a
+moment.
+
+"Are you rested, dear mamma?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, darling. Who is there?"
+
+"A visitor, mother, from England."
+
+"From England? Not your cousin?"
+
+"No, indeed. Guess again."
+
+"Tell me. Quickly, Lucia."
+
+"What do you say to Maurice?"
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+But Maurice, hearing his own name, came forward boldly.
+
+"I have but just arrived, Mrs. Costello. I told you I should find you
+out."
+
+They looked at each other with something not unlike defiance, but
+nevertheless Mrs. Costello shook hands with her guest cordially enough.
+Certainly he _had_ kept his word--there might be a mistake somewhere,
+and at all events, for the present moment he was here, and it was very
+pleasant to see him.
+
+So the three sat together and talked, and it seemed so natural that they
+should be doing it, that what did begin to be strange and incredible was
+the separation, and the various events of the past six months. But after
+Claudine had come in, and Lucia had been obliged to go away "on
+hospitable cares intent," to arrange with her some little addition to
+the dinner which Maurice was to share with them, the newcomer took
+advantage of her absence, and resolved to get as many as possible of his
+difficulties over at once. He had not yet quite forgiven his faithless
+ally, and he meant to make a new treaty, now that he was on the spot to
+see it carried out.
+
+"I am afraid," he began, "that my coming so unexpectedly must have
+startled you a little, but I thought it was best not to write."
+
+Mrs. Costello could not help smiling--she was quite conscious of her
+tactics having been surpassed by Maurice's.
+
+"I am glad to see you, at any rate," she said, "now you _are_ here; but"
+she added seriously, "you must not forget, nor try to tempt me to
+forget, that we are all changed since we met last."
+
+"I do not wish it. I don't wish to forget anything that is true and
+real, and I wish to remind you that when I left Canada I did so with a
+promise--an implied promise at any rate--from you, which has not been
+kept."
+
+"Maurice! Have you a right to speak to me so?"
+
+"I think I have. Dear Mrs. Costello, have some consideration for me.
+Was it right when I was kept a fast prisoner by my poor grandfather's
+sick-bed, when I was trusting to you, and doing all I could to make you
+to trust me--was it fair to break faith with me, and try to deprive me
+of all the hopes I had in the world? Just think of it--was it fair?"
+
+"I broke no faith with you. I felt that I had let you pledge yourself in
+the dark; that in my care for Lucia, and confidence in you, I had to
+some extent bound you to a discreditable engagement. I released you from
+it; I told you the truth of the story I had hidden from everybody--I
+wrote to you when my husband lay in jail waiting his trial for murder,
+and I heard no more from you. It was natural, prudent, right that you
+should accept the separation I desired--you did so, and I have only
+taken means to make it effectual."
+
+"I did so! I accepted the separation?"
+
+"I supposed, at least, from your silence that you did so. Was not I
+right therefore in desiring that you and Lucia should not meet again?"
+
+"_That_ was it, then? Listen, Mrs. Costello. My last note to you seems
+by some means to have been lost. There was nothing new in it; but my
+father has told me that he was surprised on receiving my letter which
+ought to have contained it, to find nothing for you, not even a message;
+perhaps you wondered too. I can only tell you the note was written.
+Then, in my next letter, written when my grandfather was actually dying,
+and when I was, I confess, very angry that you should persist in trying
+to shake me off, there was a message to you in a postscript which my
+father overlooked, and which I myself showed to him for the first time
+when I reached home and found you gone. What he had been thinking,
+Heaven knows. I had rather not inquire too closely; but I will say that
+it is rather hard to find that the people who ought to know one best,
+cannot trust one for six months."
+
+Mrs. Costello listened attentively while Maurice made his explanation
+with no little warmth and indignation.
+
+"Do you mean to say that you did not perceive how foolish and wrong it
+had become for you to think of marrying Lucia?"
+
+"How in the world could it be either foolish or wrong for me to wish to
+marry the girl I have loved all my life? Unless, indeed, she preferred
+somebody else."
+
+"Remember who she is."
+
+"I am not likely to forget that after all I have lately heard about her
+from Mrs. Morton."
+
+"And that you have a family and a position to think of now."
+
+"And a home fit to offer to Lucia."
+
+"Obstinate boy!"
+
+"Call me what you will, but let it be understood that I have done
+nothing to forfeit your promise. I am to take no further answers except
+from Lucia."
+
+"But you know, at least, that our worst fears were unfounded?"
+
+"Of course they were. I always knew that would come right. But you have
+suffered terribly; I am ashamed of my own selfishness when I think of
+it."
+
+"We have suffered. And my poor child so innocently, and so bravely.
+Maurice, she is worth caring for."
+
+"You shall see whether I value her or not. Here she comes!"
+
+Lucia came in, the glow of pleasure still on her face which Maurice's
+arrival had brought there. It was no wonder that both mother and lover
+looked at her with delight as she moved about, too restlessly happy to
+sit still, yet pausing every minute to ask some question or to listen
+to what the others were saying. Indeed not one of the three could well
+have been happier than they were that afternoon. Mrs. Costello felt that
+she had done all she could in the cause of prudence, and therefore
+rejoiced without compunction in seeing her favourite scheme for her
+darling restored to her more perfect than ever. Maurice, without having
+more than the minimum quantity of masculine vanity, had great faith in
+the virtues of perseverance and fidelity, and took the full benefit of
+Lucia's delight at seeing him; while Lucia herself was just simply
+glad--so glad that for an hour or two she quite forgot to think of
+Percy.
+
+Maurice declared he had business which would keep him in Paris for some
+weeks. He claimed permission therefore to come every day, and to take
+Lucia to all the places where Mrs. Costello was not able to go.
+
+"Oh, how charming!" Lucia cried. "I shall get some walks now. Do you
+know, Maurice, mamma will not let me go anywhere by myself, and I can't
+bear to make her walk; but you will go, won't you?"
+
+"Indeed I will," Maurice said; but after that he went away back to his
+hotel, with his first uncomfortable sensation. Was Lucia still really
+such a child? Would she always persist in thinking of him as an elder
+brother--a dear brother, certainly, which was something, but not at all
+what he wanted? How should he make her understand the difference? That
+very day, her warm frank affection had been a perfect shield to her. The
+words that had risen to his lips had been stopped there, as absolutely
+as if he had been struck dumb. 'But I need not speak just yet,' he
+consoled himself. 'I must try to make her feel that I am of use to her,
+and that she would miss me if she sent me away. My darling! I must not
+risk anything by being too hasty.'
+
+He wrote two notes that night; one to his father, the other to Lady
+Dighton, which said,
+
+"Do come over. I am impatient to show Lucia to you. She is more
+beautiful and sweeter than ever. Of course, you will think all I say
+exaggerated, so do come and judge for yourself. I want an ally. All is
+right with Mrs. Costello, but I own I want courage with Lucia to "put it
+to the test." Suppose after all I should lose? But I dare not think of
+that."
+
+Mrs. Costello slept little that night. A second time within a year she
+saw all her plans destroyed, her anticipations proved mistaken; the
+brighter destiny she had formerly hoped for, was now within her child's
+grasp. Wealth, honour, and steadfast love were laid together at her
+feet. Would she gather them up? Would she be willing to give herself
+into the keeping of this faithful heart which had learnt so well "to
+love one maiden and to cleave to her?" The doubt seemed absurd, yet it
+came and haunted the mother's meditations. She knew perfectly that Lucia
+had no thought of Maurice but as a friend or brother. She could not
+quite understand how it had always continued so, but she knew it had.
+She had never been willing to think of her child's regard for Percy as
+likely to be a lasting feeling, and at most times she really did
+consider it only as a thing of the past; yet to-night it came before her
+tiresomely, and she remembered what Mrs. Bellairs had told her lately
+about his marriage. She resolved once to ask Maurice whether he had
+heard anything of it, but, on second thoughts, she decided that it was
+better to leave the matter alone.
+
+There was yet another person on whom Maurice's coming had made a most
+lively impression. Claudine, as soon after her first sight of him as she
+could get hold of Lucia, had a dozen questions to ask. "Was he
+Mademoiselle's brother? Her cousin then? Only a friend? What a charming
+young man! How tall he was! and what magnifiques yeux bruns! Now,
+surely, Mademoiselle would not be so _triste_? She would go out a
+little? and everybody would remark them, Mademoiselle being so graceful,
+and monsieur so _very_ tall."
+
+Lucia told her mother, laughing, that she and Maurice were going to walk
+up the Champs Elysees next day, with placards, saying that they were two
+North Americans newly caught; and when Maurice came next morning, she
+repeated Claudine's comments to him with a perfect enjoyment of the good
+little woman's admiration for "ce beau Monsieur Canadien."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+After that day, Paris became quite a different place to Lucia. Maurice
+was with them most of every day, and every day they saw something new,
+or made some little country excursion. The weather, though still rather
+cold, was fine and bright; winter had fairly given place to spring, and
+all externally was so gay, sunny and hopeful, that it was quite
+impossible to give way either to sad recollections of the past, or to
+melancholy thoughts of the future.
+
+Mrs. Costello's health seemed steadily, though slowly improving; she had
+now no anxiety, except that one shadowy doubt of Lucia's decision with
+regard to Maurice, and that she was glad to leave for the present in
+uncertainty. She felt no hesitation in letting the two young people go
+where they would together; they had always been like brother and sister,
+and, at the worst, they would still be that.
+
+When this pleasant life had lasted about ten days, Maurice came in one
+morning and said,
+
+"What do you say to a visitor to-day, Lucia?"
+
+Lucia looked up eagerly with clasped hands,
+
+"Who?" she cried. "Not your cousin?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Oh, Maurice! I am afraid of her--I am indeed. I am sure she is a
+_grande dame_, and will annihilate me."
+
+"Silly child! She is a tiny woman, with a fair little face and not a bit
+of grandeur about her. You yourself will look like a queen beside her."
+
+"She is your very good friend, is not she?"
+
+"Indeed she is. Promise me to try to like her."
+
+"Of course, I will try. Is she really coming here?"
+
+"She wishes to call this afternoon."
+
+Lucia looked round the room. It was nice enough, and pretty in its way
+with its mirrors, gilt ornaments, and imposing clock on the mantelpiece;
+but it was so small! Three people quite filled it up. But she finished
+her survey with a laugh.
+
+"If they would only let us have less furniture!" she said. "It was all
+very well as long as we had nothing better than tables and chairs to
+fill up the room with; but at present--"
+
+She finished her sentence with a little shrug, in imitation of Claudine,
+which made Maurice laugh also. He proceeded, however, to warn her that
+worse was in reserve.
+
+"Louisa will come alone, to-day," he said, "because I told her Mrs.
+Costello was an invalid, but you must expect that next time she will
+bring her husband, and Sir John is no small person I assure you."
+
+"When did they arrive?"
+
+"Last night."
+
+"How long will they stay, do you think?"
+
+"Two or three weeks I imagine, but I know nothing positively of their
+plans."
+
+"And Maurice, tell me when you must go back to England? I do not want
+our pleasant life to end just as suddenly as it began."
+
+"Nor do I. I am not going just yet."
+
+"But have not you quantities of affairs to attend to, you important
+person?"
+
+"My most serious affair at present is in Paris. Don't be afraid, I am
+not forgetting my duties."
+
+"Then we cannot go out to-day?"
+
+"Put on your bonnet and come now for a walk."
+
+"I must ask mamma, and tell her your news. She is late this morning."
+
+Mrs. Costello had risen late since she came to Paris. Lucia found her
+dressed and discussing some household affair with Claudine.
+
+"Only think, mamma," she began. "Lady Dighton came over yesterday and is
+coming to see you to-day."
+
+But the news was no surprise to Mrs. Costello, who had received a hint
+from Maurice that he wished to see his cousin and Lucia friends, before
+he ventured on that decisive question to which they all, except Lucia,
+were looking forward so anxiously. But she was keenly alive to the
+desire that her child should make a favourable impression on this lady,
+who had evidently some influence with Maurice, and who, if the
+wished-for marriage took place, would become Lucia's near relative and
+neighbour. She said nothing at all about this, however, and was
+perfectly content that the young people should take one of those long
+walks which brought such a lovely colour into her daughter's pale
+cheeks, and so gave the last perfecting touch to her beauty.
+
+Maurice left Lucia at the door, and went back to the hotel where he had
+promised Lady Dighton to lunch with her. She was waiting for him,
+looking more than usually fair and pretty in the mourning she wore for
+her grandfather. He could not help thinking, as he came in, how rich and
+handsome everything about her seemed, in contrast to the bare simplicity
+of his poorer friends--yet certainly nature had intended Lucia for a
+much more stately and magnificent person than this little lady.
+
+"Well?" she said smiling. "Have you persuaded your friends to receive
+me? I can assure you my curiosity has nearly overpowered me this
+morning."
+
+"You will be disappointed, of course. You are imagining a heroine, and
+you will see only a young country girl."
+
+"For shame, Maurice! If I am imagining a heroine, I wonder whose fault
+it is?"
+
+"I wish you would not form your judgment for a week. You are enough of a
+fine lady, Louisa, to be a little affected by externals, and my pearl
+has no fine setting at present; it will need looking at closely to find
+out its value."
+
+"And you think, oh most philosophical of lovers! that I am not capable
+of distinguishing a real pearl unless it is set in gold, and has its
+price ticketed?"
+
+"I think, at least, that I am so anxious to see you the same kind friend
+to her as you have been to me, that I am troubling myself uselessly
+about the first impressions."
+
+"On both sides? Well, trust me, Maurice I will like your Lucia for your
+sake, and try to make her like me."
+
+"Thank you; I know you will. And after the first, you will not be able
+to help loving her."
+
+"Sir John is not to go with us?"
+
+"Not unless you particularly wish it. Where is he?"
+
+"Gone out shopping. Don't laugh. I suspect his shopping is of a
+different kind to mine, and quite as expensive."
+
+"Can anything be as expensive as the charming bonnets I heard you
+talking of this morning?"
+
+"Take care. Only hint that I am extravagant, and I will devote myself to
+corrupting Lucia, and avenge myself by making your pocket suffer."
+
+"I wish my pocket had anything to do with it. Pray be careful, Louisa,
+and remember that I have not dared to speak to her yet."
+
+"I shall remember. Come to lunch now. Sir John will not be in."
+
+Maurice tried in vain to talk as they drove slowly along to Mrs.
+Costello's. The street was full of people, and Lady Dighton amused
+herself by looking out for acquaintances, and saluting those they met. A
+good many English were in Paris; and she had also a pretty large circle
+of French people with whom she was on friendly terms; so that she had
+quite enough occupation to prevent her noticing her cousin's silence.
+But the moment the carriage stopped, she was ready to give her whole
+attention to him and his affairs; she gave him a little nod and smile
+full of sympathy as she went up the staircase, and the moment Claudine
+opened the door he perceived that he might leave everything in her hands
+with the most perfect confidence in her management.
+
+There had been a little flutter of expectation in Lucia's mind for the
+last half-hour, in which she wondered her mother did not express more
+sympathy; and when, at last, the door opened, she was seized with a
+sudden tremor, and for an instant felt herself deaf and blind. The
+moment passed, however, and there came sweeping softly into the room a
+little figure with golden hair and widely flowing draperies; a fair face
+with a pleasant smile, and a clear musical voice; these were the things
+that first impressed her as belonging to Maurice's formidable cousin.
+
+Lady Dighton's first words were of course addressed to Mrs.
+Costello--they seemed to Lucia to be a plea for a welcome, as Maurice's
+near relation--and then the two young women stood face to face and
+exchanged one quick glance. Lady Dighton held out her hand.
+
+"Miss Costello," she said, "you and I are so totally unlike each other,
+that I am certain we were meant to be friends--will you try?"
+
+The suddenness and oddity of the address struck Lucia dumb. She gave her
+hand, however, to her new friend with a smile, and as she did so, her
+eye caught the reflection of their two figures in a glass opposite.
+
+Truly, they were unlike each other--very opposites--but either because,
+or in spite of the difference, they seemed to suit each other.
+
+Half an hour spent in calling upon or receiving a call from an entire
+stranger, is generally a very heavy tax on one's good humour; but
+occasionally, when the visit is clearly the beginning of a pleasant
+acquaintance--perhaps a valuable friendship--things are entirely
+different. Lady Dighton had come with the intention of making herself
+agreeable, and few people knew better how to do it; but she found no
+effort necessary, and time slipped away more quickly than she thought
+possible. She stayed, in fact, until she felt quite sure her husband
+would have been waiting so long as to be growing uneasy, and when she
+did get up to go away, she begged Mrs. Costello and Lucia to dine with
+her next day.
+
+"And Maurice," she said, "you must persuade Miss Costello to join us in
+an excursion somewhere. It is quite the weather for long drives, and our
+holiday will not be very long, you know."
+
+"I am entirely at your command," Maurice said, "and Lucia must do as she
+is bid, so pray settle your plans with Mrs. Costello."
+
+But Mrs. Costello said decidedly that to dine out for herself was out of
+the question--she had not done so for years.
+
+"Oh! I am so sorry," Lady Dighton said. "But of course we must not ask
+you in that case--Miss Costello may come to us, may she not? I will take
+good care of her."
+
+Lucia had many scruples about leaving her mother; but, however, it was
+finally settled that the Dightons should call for her next day--that
+they should have a long drive to some place not yet fixed upon--and that
+she should afterwards spend the evening with them.
+
+Mrs. Costello was pleased that her child should go out a little after
+her long seclusion from all society; and the whole plan was arranged
+with little reference to Lucia, who vainly tried to avoid this long
+absence from her mother.
+
+The two cousins were scarcely on their road when Lady Dighton asked--
+
+"Well, Maurice, am I to reserve my opinion?"
+
+"As you please," he answered smiling. "I am sure it is not very
+unfavourable."
+
+"She is wonderfully beautiful; and, what is most strange, she knows it
+without being vain."
+
+"Vain? I should think she was not!"
+
+"What grace she has! With her small head and magnificent hair and eyes,
+she would have had quite beauty enough for one girl without being so
+erect and stately. You never gave me the idea that she was so
+excessively handsome, Maurice."
+
+"Is she? I don't believe I knew it. You see I have known her all her
+life--I know every one of her qualities, I believe, good and bad; and
+all her ways. I knew she had the purest nature and the warmest, bravest
+heart a woman could have; but I have thought very little about her
+beauty by itself."
+
+"Well, then, let me tell you, she only needs to be seen--she is quite
+lovely; and as for the rest, I do not know yet, but I am very much
+inclined to think you may be right. At all events, we are going to be
+good friends, and by-and-by I shall know all about her."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Lucia came home late in the evening. Mrs. Costello, resuming her old
+habits, had sent the servant to bed, and herself admitted her daughter.
+They went into the drawing-room together to talk over the day's doings.
+
+"You look very bright," Mrs. Costello said with her hand on Lucia's
+shoulder. "You have enjoyed yourself?"
+
+"Yes, mamma, _so_ much. You know I was a little afraid of Lady Dighton,
+and dreadfully afraid of Sir John. But they have both been so good to
+me; just like people at Cacouna who had known me all my life."
+
+Mrs. Costello smiled. She was very glad this friendship seemed likely
+to prosper. Yet it was not very wonderful that any one should like
+Lucia.
+
+"What have you been doing?"
+
+"We went to Versailles, and saw the gardens. We had no time for the
+Palace; but Maurice is going to take me there another day. Then we came
+home and had dinner; and where do you think we have been since?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"To the theatre! Oh, mamma, it was so nice! You know, I never was in one
+before."
+
+Lucia clasped her hands, and looked up at her mother with such a
+perfectly innocent, childish, face of delight, that it was impossible
+not to laugh.
+
+"What a day of dissipation!"
+
+"Yes; but just for once, you know. And I could not help it."
+
+"I do not see why you should have wished to help it. How about your
+French? Could you understand the play?"
+
+"Pretty well. It was very shocking, you know. Lady Dighton says the best
+French plays always are. I cried a little, and I was so ashamed of
+myself; only I saw some other people crying too, so then I did not mind
+so much."
+
+"You did not really see much of Lady Dighton, then, if you were driving
+all afternoon and at the theatre all evening?"
+
+"Oh! yes; we had a long talk before dinner. When we came in, she said,
+'Now, Maurice, you must just amuse yourself how you can for an hour. Sir
+John has English papers to read, and Miss Costello and I are going to my
+room to have a chat.' So she took me off to her dressing-room, and we
+were by ourselves there for quite an hour."
+
+"In which time, I suppose, you talked about everything in heaven and
+earth."
+
+"I don't know. No, indeed; I believe we talked most about Maurice."
+
+"He is a favourite of hers."
+
+"She says she liked him from the first. She is so funny in her way of
+describing things. She said, 'We English are horribly benighted with
+regard to you colonists; and my notions of geography are elementary.
+When grandpapa told me he had sent for his heir from Canada, I went to
+Sir John and asked him where Canada was. He got a big map and began to
+show me; but all I could understand was, that it was in North America.
+I saw an American once. I suppose I must have seen others, but I
+remember one particularly, for being an American; he was dreadfully thin
+and had straight black hair, and a queer little pointed black beard, and
+I _think_ he spoke through his nose; and really I began to be haunted by
+a recollection of this man, and to think I was going to have a cousin
+just like him.' Then she told me about going over to Hunsdon and finding
+he had arrived. She said that before the end of the day they were fast
+friends."
+
+"He was not like what she expected, then?"
+
+"Just the opposite. She made me laugh about that. She said, 'I like
+handsome people, and I like an English style of beauty for men. My poor
+dear Sir John is not handsome, though he has a good face; but really
+when a man is good-looking _and_ looks good, I can't resist him.'"
+
+"You seem to have been much occupied with this question of looks. Did
+you spend the whole hour talking about them?"
+
+"Mamma! Why that was only the beginning."
+
+"What was the rest, then? or some of it, at least?"
+
+"She told me how good Maurice was to his grandfather, and how fond Mr.
+Beresford grew of him. Do you know that Maurice was just going to try to
+get away to Canada at the very time Mr. Beresford had his last attack?
+Lady Dighton says he was excessively anxious to go, and yet he never
+showed the least impatience or disappointment when he found he could not
+be spared."
+
+"He must have felt that he was bound to his grandfather."
+
+"He nursed him just like a woman, Lady Dighton says, and one could fancy
+it. Could not you, mamma?"
+
+"I don't find it difficult to believe anything good of Maurice."
+
+"Oh! and then she told me about Hunsdon. She was born there, and lived
+there till she was married. She told me all about why Mr. Beresford left
+it to Maurice, and not to her. But, mamma, I cannot understand how
+Maurice can be so long away from home. I should think he must have
+quantities of things to attend to; and she told me Sir John was always
+busy, though his estate is not so large as Hunsdon. Only think, mamma,
+of Maurice, our Maurice, having more than ten thousand a year!"
+
+"Well, dear, since we have come to talking of our neighbour's fortunes,
+I think we had better go to bed."
+
+"Oh! yes; how thoughtless I am, keeping you up so. And I must be early
+to-morrow, for Lady Dighton is coming to see you, and Maurice wants me
+to go with him for a walk first. Not to see anything, but just for a
+walk."
+
+Mrs. Costello lay down that night with a great feeling of content with
+regard to her daughter's future.
+
+"Certainly," she thought, "Maurice may be satisfied with the affection
+she has for him; if it is not just the kind of love he wishes for, that
+is only because it has never entered her mind that he could be anything
+but a brother to her. She is so excessively childish in some things! I
+shall be glad now when she really does begin to understand. Only, must I
+part with her? Better that than that I should leave her alone; better
+even than that she should have to go among strange relatives."
+
+Maurice had asked Lucia to walk with him for the sake of having her
+quite to himself for an hour, and perhaps of asking that much meditated
+question. He had specially bargained that they were not to "go
+anywhere;" but simply to choose a tolerably quiet road and go straight
+along it. Accordingly they started, and went slowly up the sunny slope
+towards the great arch, talking of yesterday, and of the trifles which
+always seemed interesting when they spoke of them together. After they
+had passed the barrier, they hesitated a little which road to take--they
+had already made several expeditions in this direction, and Lucia wanted
+novelty. Finally they took the road to Neuilly, and went on for a time
+very contentedly. But Maurice, after a while, fell into little fits of
+silence, thinking how he should first speak of the subject most
+important to him. He felt that there could be no better opportunity than
+this, and he was not cool enough to reflect that it was waste of trouble
+to try to choose his words, since if Lucia accepted him she would for
+ever think them eloquent; and if she refused him, would be certain to
+consider them stupid. She, on the other hand, was in unusually high
+spirits. It had occurred to her that Lady Dighton, who seemed to know
+everybody, would probably know Percy. She had begun already to lay deep
+plans for finding out if this was the case, and after that, where he
+was at present. She had thought of him so much lately, and so tenderly;
+she had remembered so often his earnestness and her own harshness in
+that last interview, that she felt as if she owed him some reparation,
+and as if his love were far more ardent than hers, and must needs be
+more stable also. The idea that she had advanced a step towards the
+happiness of meeting him again, added the last ingredient to her
+content. She could have danced for joy.
+
+They walked a considerable distance, and Maurice had not yet found
+courage for what he wanted to say. Lucia began to think of her mother's
+loneliness, and proposed to return; he would have tempted her further,
+but a strange shyness and embarrassment seemed to have taken possession
+of him. They had actually turned round and begun to walk towards home
+before he had found a reason for not doing it.
+
+"Lucia," he said abruptly, after one of the pauses which had been
+growing more and more frequent, "don't you wish to go over to England?"
+
+"Of course I do," she answered with some surprise; "I wish we _could_
+go. You know I always used to wish it."
+
+"Why don't you try now you are so near?"
+
+"Surely, Maurice, you know mamma cannot go."
+
+"I remember hearing something about your grandfather having wished her
+not to do so. Forgive me if it is a painful subject; but do not you see
+that things are quite changed now?"
+
+"Do you think she could, then? But I _don't_ see."
+
+"Her father, I suppose, wished to avoid the chance of her marriage being
+gossipped about. His idea of her going back to England was naturally
+that she would go among her own relations and old acquaintance who knew
+the story. Now, I believe that she might go to any other part of the
+island--say Norfolk, for instance--and obey his wishes just as much as
+by staying in Paris."
+
+"To Norfolk? Why, then, we should be near you? Oh! do try to persuade
+her."
+
+"I must have you decidedly on my side then. I must be enabled to offer
+her a great inducement. If, for instance, I could tell her that you had
+made up your mind to come and live in Norfolk, she might say yes."
+
+"Ah! but she would have to make up her mind first. See Maurice," she
+broke in abruptly, "what is that little building on the other side the
+road? There are some people who look like English going in."
+
+"Don't mind that now, I want to talk to you."
+
+"We have been talking. Only tell me what it is?"
+
+"It is a chapel built on the place where the Duke of Orleans was killed
+some years ago."
+
+"I remember now somebody told me about it; his monument is there."
+
+"Very likely. I know nothing about it."
+
+"Oh, Maurice! to speak in that tone, when it was such a sad thing."
+
+"There are so many sad things--one cannot pity everybody."
+
+"You are cross this morning. What is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing. What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Just now I want you to take me in there. I see it is open."
+
+There was no help; the moment was gone. Lucia's head was full of the
+unhappy Duke of Orleans, and it would, have been very bad policy,
+Maurice thought, to oppose her whim. He rang the bell, and they were
+admitted without difficulty into the open space in front of the chapel.
+The old man who let them in pointed to the half-open door, and, saying
+that his wife was in there with a party, retreated, and left them to
+find their own way into the building itself. They passed quietly through
+the entrance and into the soft grey light of the chapel. Lucia stopped
+only to take one glance of the tiny interior, so coldly mournful with
+its black draperies and chill white and grey marble, and then passed
+round to examine more closely the monument which marks the very spot
+where the fatal accident occurred. Maurice followed her. They stood half
+concealed by the monument, and speaking low, while the tones of other
+voices could be distinctly heard from the recess behind the altar where
+the English visitors were examining the picture of the Duke's death.
+There was one rather high-pitched female voice which broke the solemn
+stillness unpleasantly, and as it became more audible, Lucia laid her
+hand softly on Maurice's arm to make him listen, and looked up in his
+face with eyes full of laughter. The lady was talking French to the
+guide with a strong English accent and in a peculiar drawl, which had a
+very droll effect. It was a manner new to them both, though Maurice
+could not help thinking, as he listened, of Percy in his worst moods.
+
+"I am glad to have seen it," the voice said, "and quite by chance, too;
+it is excessively interesting, so melancholy. Ah! you say that they laid
+him just there? It makes one shudder! No, I will not go near the place;
+it is too shocking."
+
+At the last words Maurice and Lucia saw the speaker emerge from behind
+the altar on the side furthest from where they stood. She was a tall
+woman, neither young nor pretty, but very fashionable--distinguished,
+Lucia supposed she should be called; and but for the peculiarity of her
+voice, would have made a favourable rather than an unfavourable
+impression on a stranger. She stopped just at the top of the steps, and
+turned round to speak again to some one behind her who was still
+concealed by the altar. This time she spoke English in a lower tone, and
+with a greater drawl.
+
+"Really, Edward," she said, "it is very small. Pray don't give the
+woman much; you know how heavy our expenses are. I think I ought to
+carry the purse."
+
+"As you please, my dear; it would save me trouble, certainly."
+
+At the sound of that second voice Maurice started and looked at Lucia.
+She had suddenly grasped at the stonework before her, and stood looking
+with passionate eagerness over the carved figure of the dying Duke
+towards the altar. He almost shuddered at the intensity of that
+gaze--the rigidity of intolerable suspense in her whole figure; but he
+could only be still and watch her.
+
+The unconscious Englishwoman moved on; close behind her, following her
+with his old languid manner, came the man Lucia was watching for--Edward
+Percy.
+
+Still she never stirred. They passed down the chapel with her eyes upon
+them, but they never saw her, and she made no sound or movement. Only
+when they were no longer in sight, everything seemed to grow suddenly
+black and confused about her--her hold upon the marble relaxed, and she
+would have fallen if Maurice had not gently supported her, and drawn her
+to a seat close by.
+
+She did not faint, though she was cold and white and powerless. After a
+minute Maurice, bending over her, saw that she was trying to speak. Her
+lips seemed stiff and hardly able to form the words, but he made out,
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+He hesitated a moment; but she saw that he _could_ answer, and her eyes
+insisted on her question.
+
+"She is his wife," he answered; "they were married, I believe, a month
+or six weeks ago."
+
+Suddenly, at his words, the blood seemed to rise with one quick rush to
+her very temples.
+
+"You knew," she said, "and would not tell me!"
+
+Then after her momentary anger came shame, bitter and intolerable, for
+her self-betrayal. She bent down her face on her hands, but her whole
+figure shook with violent agitation. Maurice suffered scarcely less. His
+love for her gave him a comprehension of all, and a sympathy unspeakable
+with her pain. He laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as he had often
+done in her childish troubles, but one word escaped him which he had
+never spoken to her before,
+
+"My darling! my darling!"
+
+Perhaps she did not hear it; but at least she understood that through
+all the pang of her loss, there remained with her one faithful and
+perfect affection; and even at that moment she was unconsciously
+comforted.
+
+But the Percys were gone, and the guide was coming back into the chapel
+after a word or two at the door with her husband; Maurice had to decide
+instantly what to do. He said to Lucia,
+
+"Wait here for me," and then going forward to meet the woman, he
+contrived to make her comprehend that the lady was ill; and that he was
+going for a carriage. He then hurried out, and Lucia was left alone in
+the chapel with the good-natured Frenchwoman, who looked at her
+compassionately and troubled her with no questions.
+
+For a few minutes the poor child remained too bewildered to notice
+anything; but when at last she raised her head, and saw that Maurice was
+not there, she grew frightened. Had she been so childish and
+uncontrolled as to have disgusted even him? Had he left her, too? She
+tried to get up from her seat, but she could not stand. The guide saw
+her attempt, and thought it time to interfere.
+
+"Monsieur would be back immediately," she said. "He was gone for a
+carriage. It was unfortunate madame should be taken ill so suddenly."
+
+Lucia smiled a very miserable kind of smile.
+
+"Yes," she answered, "it was unfortunate, but it was only a little
+giddiness."
+
+And there she broke off to listen to the sound of wheels which stopped
+at the gate.
+
+It was Maurice; and at the sight of him Lucia felt strong again. She
+rose and met him as he came towards her.
+
+"I have got a carriage," he said. "We had walked too far. Can you go to
+it?"
+
+She could find nothing to say in answer. He made her lean on his arm,
+and took her across the court and put her into the vehicle.
+
+"Would you rather go alone?" he asked her.
+
+"Oh! no, no," she cried nervously, and in a minute afterwards they were
+on their way homewards.
+
+When they had started, she put her hand to her head confusedly.
+
+"Is not it strange?" she said half to herself. "I was sure we should
+meet in Paris; only I never guessed it would be to-day. Across a grave,
+that was right."
+
+Maurice shuddered at her tone; it sounded as if she were talking in her
+sleep.
+
+"Dear Lucia," he said, "scold me, be angry with me. I should have told
+you."
+
+She seemed to wake at the sound of his voice, and again that burning,
+painful flush covered her face and neck.
+
+"Oh! Maurice," she cried, "it is you who should scold me. What must you
+think? But, indeed, I am not so bad as I seem."
+
+"It is I who have been blind. I thought you had forgotten him."
+
+"Forgotten him? So soon? I thought he could not even have forgotten me!"
+
+Maurice clenched his hand. The very simplicity of her words stirred his
+anger more deeply against his successful rival. For _her_ he had still
+nothing but the most pitiful tenderness.
+
+"Some men, Lucia, love themselves too well to have any great love for
+another."
+
+"But he did care for me. I want to tell you. I want you to see that I
+am not quite so bad--he did care for me very much, and I sent him away."
+
+"You refused him?"
+
+"Not just that. At first, you know, I thought everything could be made
+to come right in time--and then mamma told me all that terrible story
+about her marriage, and about the constant fear she was in; and then--I
+could not tell that to him--so I said he must go away. And he did; but
+he told me perhaps in a year I should change my mind. And the year is
+not over yet."
+
+Maurice was silent. He would not, if he could help it, say one word of
+evil to Lucia about this man whom she still loved; and at first he could
+not trust himself to speak.
+
+"How did you know?" she asked.
+
+And he understood instinctively what she meant, and told her shortly
+when and where he had seen Percy, and what he had heard from the
+solicitor.
+
+"It is the same lady, then," she said, "that I remember hearing of."
+
+"Yes, no doubt. I recollect some story being told of him and her, even
+in Cacouna."
+
+Lucia sighed heavily. She had now got over the difficulty of speaking on
+the subject to Maurice. She knew so well that he was trustworthy, and
+for the rest, was he not just the same as a brother?
+
+"He might have waited a year," she murmured. "You cannot imagine how
+happy I have been lately, thinking I must see him soon!"
+
+"Cannot I?" Maurice cried desperately. "Listen to me, Lucia! I, too,
+have been happy lately. I have been living on a false hope. I have been
+deceived, and placed all my trust in a shadow. Don't you think we ought
+to be able to feel for each other?"
+
+His vehemence and the bitterness of his tone terrified her. She laid her
+little trembling hand on his appealingly.
+
+"What do you mean?" she whispered.
+
+But he had controlled himself instantly. He took hold of her hand and
+put it to his lips.
+
+"I mean nothing," he said, "at least nothing I can tell you about at
+present. Are you feeling strong enough to meet Mrs. Costello? You must
+not frighten her, you know, as you did me."
+
+"Did I frighten you? I am so sorry and ashamed--only, you know--Yes, I
+can behave well now."
+
+He saw that she could. Her self-command had entirely returned now. Her
+grieving would be silent or kept for solitude henceforward. They had
+already passed the barrier, and in a minute would stop at the door.
+
+"I am not coming in with you," Maurice said, "I must go on now; but I
+shall see you this evening."
+
+He saw her inside the house and then drove away, while she little
+guessed how sore a heart he took with him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+As Lucia went up the staircase, the slight stimulus of excitement which
+Maurice's presence had supplied, died out, and she began to be conscious
+of a horrible depression and sense of vacancy. She went up with a step
+that grew more tired and languid at every movement, till she reached the
+door where Claudine was having a little gossip with the concierge.
+
+She was glad even to be saved the trouble of ringing, and glided past
+the two "like a ghaist," and came into her mother's presence with that
+same weary gait and white face. It was not even until Mrs. Costello rose
+in alarm and surprise with anxious questions on her lips that the poor
+child became aware of the change in herself.
+
+"I am tired," she said. "I have such a headache, mamma," and she tried
+to wake herself out of her bewilderment and look natural.
+
+"Where is Maurice?"
+
+"He is gone--he is coming back this evening, I think he said."
+
+Mrs. Costello guessed instantly that Maurice was the cause of Lucia's
+disturbance.
+
+"Poor child!" she thought; "it could not help but be a surprise to her.
+I wonder if all is going well?" But she dared not speak of that subject
+just yet.
+
+"You must have walked much too far," she said aloud. "Go and lie down,
+darling--I will come with you."
+
+Lucia obeyed. She was actually physically tired, as she said, and her
+head did ache with a dull heavy pain. Mrs. Costello arranged the
+pillows, drew warm coverings over her, and left her without one further
+question; for she was completely persuaded of the truth of her own
+surmise, and feared to endanger Maurice's hopes and her own favourite
+plan by an injudicious word. She did not go far away, however, and
+Lucia, still conscious of her nearness, dared not move or sigh. With her
+face pressed close to the pillow, she could let the hot tears which
+seemed to scald her eyes drop from under the half-closed lids; but after
+a little while, the warmth and stillness and her fatigue began to have
+their effect. The tears ceased to drop, the one hand which had grasped
+the edge of the covering relaxed, and she dropped asleep.
+
+By-and-by Mrs. Costello came in softly, and stood looking at her. She
+lay just like a child with her pale cheeks still wet, and the long black
+lashes glistening. Her little hand, so slender and finely shaped, rested
+lightly against the pillow; her soft regular breathing just broke the
+complete stillness enough to give the aspect of sleep, instead of that
+of death. She was fair enough, in her sweet girlish beauty and
+innocence, to have been a poet's or an artist's inspiration. The
+mother's eyes grew very dim as she looked at her child, but she never
+guessed that there had been more than the stir of surprise in her heart
+that day--that she was "sleeping for sorrow."
+
+It was twilight in the room when Lucia woke. She came slowly to the
+recollection of the past, and the consciousness of the present, and
+without moving began to gather up her thoughts and understand what had
+happened to her, and why she had slept. The door was ajar, and voices
+could be faintly heard talking in the salon. She even distinguished her
+mother's tones, and Lady Dighton's, but there were no others. It was a
+relief to her. She thought she ought to get up and go to them, but if
+Maurice had been there, or even Sir John, she felt that her courage
+would have failed. She raised herself up, and pushed back her disordered
+hair; with a hand pressed to each temple, she tried to realize how she
+had awoke that very morning, hopeful and happy, and that she had had a
+dreadful loss which was _her own_--only hers, and could meet with no
+sympathy from others. But then she remembered that it had met with
+sympathy already--not much in words, but in tone and look and
+action--from the one unfailing friend of her whole life. Maurice
+knew--Maurice did not contemn her--there was a little humiliation in the
+thought, but more sweetness. She went over the whole scene in the
+chapel, and for the first time there came into her mind a sense of the
+inexpressible tenderness which had soothed her as she sat there half
+stupefied.
+
+"Dear Maurice!" she said to herself, and then as her recollection grew
+more vivid, a sudden shame seized her--neck and arms and brow were
+crimson in a moment, with the shock of the new idea--and she sprang up
+and began to dress, in hopes to escape from it by motion.
+
+But before she was ready to leave the room her sorrow had come back, too
+strong and bitter to leave place for other thoughts. The vivid hope of
+Percy's faithful recollection enduring at least for a year, had come to
+give her strength and courage in the very time when her youthful
+energies had almost broken down under the weight of so many troubles; it
+had been a kind of prop on which she leaned through her last partings
+and anxieties, and which seemed to be the very foundation of her recent
+content. To have it struck away from her suddenly, left her helpless and
+confused; her own natural forces, or the support of others, might
+presently supply its place, but for the moment she did not know where to
+look to satisfy the terrible want.
+
+She went out, however, to face her small world, with what resolution she
+could muster, and was not a little glad that the dim light would save
+her looks from any close scrutiny.
+
+Lady Dighton had been paying a long visit to Mrs. Costello, and the two
+perfectly understood each other. They both thought, also, that they
+understood what had occurred that morning, and why Lucia had a headache.
+Maurice had not made his appearance at his cousin's luncheon, as she
+expected, but that was not wonderful. Lady Dighton, however, had said to
+Mrs. Costello,
+
+"It is quite extraordinary to me how Lucia can have seen Maurice's
+perfect devotion to her, and not perceived that it was more than
+brotherly."
+
+Mrs. Costello did not feel bound to explain that Lucia's thoughts, as
+far as they had ever been occupied at all with love, had been drawn away
+in quite a different direction, so she contented herself with answering,
+
+"She is very childish in some things, and she has been all her life
+accustomed to think of him as a brother. I knew he would have some
+difficulty at first in persuading her to think otherwise."
+
+"He can't have failed?"
+
+"I hope not. She has not told me anything, and therefore I do not
+suppose there is anything decisive to tell."
+
+After their conversation the two naturally looked with interest for
+Lucia's coming. They heard her stirring, and exchanged a few more words,
+
+"Perhaps we shall know now?"
+
+"At any rate, Maurice will enlighten us when he arrives."
+
+Lucia came in, gliding silently through the dim light. Her quiet
+movement was unconscious--she would have chosen to appear more, rather
+than less, animated than usual. Lady Dighton came forward to meet her.
+
+"So you walked too far this morning?" she said. "I think it was a little
+too bad when you knew I was coming to see you to-day."
+
+"I did not think I should be so tired," Lucia answered, and the friendly
+dusk hid her blush at her own disingenuousness.
+
+"Are you quite rested, my child?" Mrs. Costello asked anxiously.
+
+"Yes, mamma. My head aches a little still, but it will soon be better, I
+dare say. I am ashamed of being so lazy."
+
+"Where is Maurice?" said Lady Dighton. "I expected to have found him
+here, as he did not come in for lunch."
+
+"Has he not been with you then? He left me at the door, and said he
+would come back this evening."
+
+"He has not been with me, certainly, though he promised to be. I thought
+you were answerable for his absence."
+
+Lucia did not reply. Her heart beat fast, and the last words kept
+ringing in her ears, "you were answerable for his absence." Was she
+answerable for _any_ doings of Maurice's? Had that morning's meeting, so
+strange and sudden for her, disturbed him too? She could only be silent
+and feel as if she had been accused, justly accused--but of what?
+
+Meanwhile, her silence, which was not that of indifference, seemed to
+prove that the conjectures of the other two were right. They even
+ventured to exchange glances of intelligence, but Mrs. Costello hastened
+to fill up the break in the conversation.
+
+"Is it true," she inquired of her visitor, "that you talk of going home
+next week?"
+
+"Yes; we only came for a fortnight at the longest; and as the affair
+which brought us over seems to be happily progressing, there is no
+reason for delay."
+
+"Oh! I am sorry," Lucia said impulsively. "Maurice goes with you, does
+not he?"
+
+"_Cela depend_--he is not obliged to go just then, I suppose?"
+
+"But surely he ought. We must make him go."
+
+"And yet you would be sorry to lose him?"
+
+"Of course; only--"
+
+Another of those unexplained pauses! It was certainly a tantalizing
+state of affairs, though, in fact, this last one did but mean, "only he
+must be neglecting his affairs while he stops here." Lucia merely broke
+off because she felt as if Lady Dighton might think the words an
+impertinence.
+
+Soon after this they parted. Something was said about to-morrow, but
+they finally left all arrangements to be made when Maurice should
+appear, which it was supposed he would do at dinner to the Dightons, and
+after it to the Costellos.
+
+Dinner had been long over in the little apartment in the Champs Elysees
+when Maurice arrived there. The mother and daughter were sitting
+together as usual, but in unusual silence--Lucia absorbed in thought,
+Mrs. Costello watching and wondering, but still refraining from asking
+questions. Maurice came in, looking pale and tired. Lucia got up, and
+drew a chair for him near her mother. It was done with a double object;
+she wanted to express her grateful affection, and she wanted to manage
+so as to be herself out of his sight. He neither resisted her
+man[oe]uvre nor even saw it, but sat down wearily and began to reply to
+her mother's questions.
+
+"I have been out of town. I had seen nothing of the country round Paris,
+so I thought I would make an excursion."
+
+"An excursion all alone?"
+
+"Yes; I have been to St. Denis."
+
+"How did you go?"
+
+"By rail. I started to come back by an omnibus I saw out there, but I
+did not much care about that mode of conveyance, so I got out and
+walked."
+
+"Have you seen Lady Dighton?"
+
+"I have seen no one. I am but just come back."
+
+"Maurice! Have you not dined, then?"
+
+"No. Never mind that. I will have some tea with you, please, by-and-by."
+
+But Lucia had received a glance from her mother, and was gone already to
+try what Claudine's resources could produce. Mrs. Costello leaned
+forward, and laid her hand entreatingly on Maurice's arm,
+
+"Tell me what all this means?" she said.
+
+He tried to smile as he returned her look, but his eyes fell before the
+earnestness of hers.
+
+"What what means?" he asked.
+
+"Both you and Lucia know something I don't know," she answered. "I would
+rather question you than her. Has she troubled you?"
+
+"Not in the way you think," he answered quickly. "I have partly changed
+my plans. I shall be obliged to go back to England with my cousin. Don't
+question Lucia, dear Mrs. Costello, let her be in peace for awhile."
+
+"In peace? But she has been in peace--happy as the day was long,
+lately."
+
+"She is disturbed now--yes, it is my fault--and I will do penance for
+it. You understand I do not give up my hopes--I only defer them."
+
+"But, Maurice, I _don't_ understand. You are neither changeable, nor
+likely to give Lucia any excuse for being foolish. Why should you go
+away? She exclaimed how sorry she was when your cousin spoke of it."
+
+"Did she? But I am only a brother to her yet. Don't try to win more
+just now for me, lest she should give me less."
+
+"Well, of course, you know your own affairs best. But it is totally
+incomprehensible to me."
+
+Maurice leaned his head upon his hands. He had had a miserable day, and
+was feeling broken down and wretched. He spoke hopefully, but in his
+heart he doubted whether it would not be better to give Lucia up at once
+and altogether, only he had a strong suspicion that to give her up was
+not a thing within the power of his will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+The evening passed in constraint and embarrassment. Mrs. Costello was
+both puzzled and annoyed; Maurice, worn out in mind and body, and only
+resolute to shield Lucia at his own expense; Lucia herself more
+thoroughly uncomfortable than she had ever been in her life. She partly
+understood Maurice's conduct, but doubted its motives. Sometimes she
+thought he was influenced by his old dislike to Percy, and that even his
+kindness to herself was mixed with disapproval or contempt. Sometimes a
+suspicion of the truth, so faint and so unreasonable in her own eyes,
+that she would not acknowledge it for a moment, flashed across her mind;
+and this suspicion had its keenly humiliating as well as its comforting
+side. Besides the confusion of thoughts regarding these things, her mind
+was burdened with an entirely new trouble--the sense that she was
+concealing something from her mother; and this alone would have been
+quite sufficient to disturb and distress her.
+
+So the three who had been so happy for the last few weeks sat together,
+with all their content destroyed. Maurice thought bitterly of the old
+Canadian days, which had been happy, too, and to which Percy's coming
+had brought trouble.
+
+"It is the same thing over again," he said to himself; "but why such a
+fellow as that should be allowed to do so much mischief is a problem _I_
+can't solve. A tall idiot, who could not even care for her like a man!"
+
+But he would not allow himself any hard thoughts of Lucia. Perhaps he
+had had some during his solitary day, but he had no real cause for them,
+and he was too loyal to find any consolation in blaming her. And it
+never would have come into his head to solace himself with the "having
+known _me_." He valued his own honest, unaltering love at a reasonable
+but not an excessive, price--himself at a very low one; and as Lucia
+understood nothing of the one, he did not wonder that she should slight
+the other. And yet he was very miserable.
+
+Ten o'clock came at last, and he went away. After he was gone, Lucia
+came to her mother's knee, and sat down, resting her aching head against
+the arm of the chair. The old attitude, and the soft clinging touch,
+completely thawed the slight displeasure in Mrs. Costello's heart.
+
+"Something is wrong, darling," she said. "If you do not want to tell me,
+or think you ought not, remember I do not ask any questions; but you
+have never had a secret from me."
+
+Lucia raised her mother's hand, and laid it on her forehead.
+
+"I ought to tell you, mamma," she said, "and I want to; but yet I don't
+like."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"You will be so angry; no, not that, perhaps, but you will be shocked,
+and yet I could not help it."
+
+"Help what? Do you know, Lucia, that you are really trying me now?"
+
+"Oh, mamma, no! I am not worth caring so much about."
+
+"Have you and Maurice quarrelled?"
+
+"Maurice! No, indeed. He is the best friend anybody ever had."
+
+"What is it, then?"
+
+"Mamma, do you remember what happened that first night at Cacouna?"
+
+"What first night?" Mrs. Costello pressed her hand upon her heart, which
+began to beat painfully.
+
+"The night when you told me about my father."
+
+"Yes; I remember. Go on."
+
+"And the next day?"
+
+"Yes. Don't tell me that you still regret it."
+
+"Mamma, I have seen him again."
+
+"To-day?"
+
+"To-day. At the chapel of St. Ferdinand."
+
+"Did he know you? Did you speak to him?"
+
+"No. He did not see us. He was thinking nothing of me."
+
+"He ought not to think of you."
+
+"Nor I of him. He is married."
+
+"I knew that he either was, or was about to be."
+
+"You have heard of him, then, since?" Lucia raised her head sharply, and
+looked at her mother.
+
+"Mrs. Bellairs told me. They had heard it indirectly."
+
+"If you had only told me!" Her head sank lower than before.
+
+"My darling, I may have been mistaken. I have been so, many times; but I
+wished to avoid mentioning him to you. I hoped you were forgetting."
+
+"Never; never for an hour," she said, half to herself. "No, mamma, for I
+thought he had not forgotten."
+
+"But you sent him away yourself, my child. Remember, you would not even
+let me see him. He could not have supposed that you meant your answer to
+be anything but decisive."
+
+"I did mean it to be decisive; but he refused to take it so. He said,
+'Perhaps in a year;' and it is not a year yet."
+
+Mrs. Costello listened in utter surprise. Lucia had much to say now.
+Broken words and sentences, which showed, by degrees, how her mind, as
+it recovered from the shock of other troubles, had gone back to dwell
+upon the hope of Percy's return, and which explained more fully why she
+had been so utterly blind to the schemes which were formed around her.
+In one point only she failed. She did not, with all her own faith in it,
+convey to her mother the impression of Percy's real earnestness in their
+last interview. That he had really loved her, she still believed; but
+she did not at all understand his shallow and easily-influenced
+character. Mrs. Costello, on the other hand, was predisposed to take the
+worst view, and to congratulate herself upon it, since it had helped to
+leave Lucia free. But not believing that the poor girl had been the
+object of a genuine, though transient passion, she for once was ready to
+judge her hardly, and to accuse her of having been wilfully and
+foolishly deceived.
+
+There was a bitter pang to the mother's heart in thinking this; but the
+recollections of her own youth made the idea the less improbable to her,
+and made her also the gentler, even in her injustice. She said not a
+word of blame, but coaxed from her child the story of the meeting that
+morning, that she might find out how much Maurice had seen or heard of
+the truth. He understood _all_. Lucia said so frankly, though she
+blushed at the confession; he had not needed to be told, and he had been
+so good!
+
+Mrs. Costello could have groaned aloud. It needed an effort to keep
+still, and not express the anger and impatience she felt. Maurice!
+Maurice, who was worth fifty Percys! Maurice, who was devoted heart and
+soul to this girl; who had been content to love her and wait for her,
+through good and evil fortune, through change and absence and silence,
+and, after all, she had no feeling for him but this heartless kind of
+gratitude! Because at the very last, when he had thought her certainly
+his own, he had endured, out of his great love, to see all his hopes
+swept away, and her grieving for his rival; therefore he had just so
+much claim upon her--"He was so good!"
+
+There was little more said. When once Lucia had told her story, and when
+Mrs. Costello had discovered that Maurice understood all, neither of
+them cared to talk on the subject. They went to bed with a cloud between
+them, after all. Mrs. Costello kept her secret still, and pondered over
+the question whether there might yet possibly be hope, since Maurice had
+said he had only deferred his wishes, not relinquished them. Lucia was
+aware that her trouble was still her own exclusively--not shared by any
+one, even her mother. She thought of Percy--she longed to know how long
+he had thought of her--how, and why he had changed; and deep down in her
+heart there was a little disturbed wondering at Maurice's
+tenderness--that very tenderness which Mrs. Costello marvelled she did
+not see.
+
+Maurice did not see his cousin that night. He went straight to his room,
+and without thinking, locked the door, put out the candles except one,
+and sat down in the gloom. His eyes and head ached--he felt weary and
+utterly dispirited. He had rushed away that morning after leaving Lucia
+at home, and found himself by the merest chance at St. Denis. He had got
+out there because his fellow-passengers did so, though at the railway
+station he had taken a ticket for a place much further on along the
+line. He had looked about the little town, and seen, in a blind
+blundering kind of way, the Cathedral. He had come out, with about
+half-a-dozen more visitors, and seeing an omnibus starting for Paris,
+had got into it, because it would take longer than the train--then after
+a while had got out again, because he could not bear the slow motion and
+perpetual babble of talk inside. But through all, and still more in his
+solitary walk, he had been thinking--thinking perpetually; and, after
+all, his thinking seemed yet to do. He would go back to England--that
+was necessary and right, whatever else might be. He was wanted there, as
+the pile of letters on his writing-table could testify. His father, too,
+was solitary at Hunsdon--and his business in Paris was over. But the
+Dightons would not go for some days, and he could not very well leave
+them after they had come over for his sake. He would have to stay,
+therefore, till they went; he would have to go on seeing the Costellos.
+He tried to fancy he was sorry for this, but the attempt was a very poor
+one. For a few days he would have to go on just as usual, and after that
+he would go home, and do what? That was just the question.
+
+Ought he to go on hoping now? Had not he done all he could do? Was it
+probable that a girl who had loved another man--and that man,
+Percy--faithfully for a whole year on the mere possibility that he might
+have remained faithful to her, and who had been throughout blind and
+insensible to a regard deeper and purer than his had ever been, would be
+able to transfer her heart whole and undivided as he must have it if he
+had it at all? He dared not think it. "No, I have lost her at last!" he
+said to himself, "and she is the one only woman in the world."
+
+Then he remembered, as if the reminder had been whispered in his ear, a
+promise he had made. It was one day during Mr. Beresford's illness, when
+his mind was a little clearer than usual. He had been trying feebly to
+return to his old interests, and speaking in his weak broken tones,
+about the future. He grew very tired after awhile, and Maurice persuaded
+him to try to sleep, but there was yet another thing to be said.
+
+"You must marry soon, Maurice."
+
+"I am young, sir, there is no hurry."
+
+"No--only let it be soon."
+
+"I must first find the lady."
+
+"I thought I could have helped you--but it is too late." Maurice was
+silent.
+
+"You _will_ marry?" and the old man tried to raise himself in his
+earnestness.
+
+"I hope to do so."
+
+"Don't talk of hoping--it is a duty, positive duty."
+
+"I mean to do so, then, grandfather."
+
+"Say 'I will'--promise me."
+
+"If I both hope and intend it, sir, is that not enough?"
+
+"No, no. Promise."
+
+"Well then, I promise."
+
+The invalid was satisfied, and in a few minutes dropped asleep, and the
+conversation almost passed from his grandson's mind.
+
+Now, however, he remembered it, as having bound him to something which
+might be a lifelong misery. He was young still; as he had said, there
+was time enough. But would any time make Lucia other than the first with
+him?
+
+At last he got up and began to pace up and down the room, pushing first
+one, and then another article of furniture aside to make room for his
+walk.
+
+"There is at least no further reason why she should not know all" he
+meditated. "Since my chance is gone, I cannot make matters worse by
+speaking, and it will be a relief to tell her." He paused, dwelling on
+the idea of his speaking and her listening--how differently from what he
+had thought of before--and then went on--"To-morrow is as good as any
+other time. To-morrow I will ask her to go out with me again--our last
+walk together."
+
+He stopped again. At last he grew tired even of his own thoughts. He
+lighted his candles again, and sat down to write letters. First to his
+father, to say that he was coming home, to give him all the news, to
+speak just as usual of the Costellos--even specially of Lucia; then to
+his agent, and to other people, till the streets began to grow noisy and
+the candles to burn dim in the dawn.
+
+Then he lay down, and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Maurice was scarcely awake next morning when a little note was brought
+him from his cousin. It was only two or three lines written late the
+night before, when she found that he did not come to their common
+sitting-room. It said, "What has come to all the world? I go to Mrs.
+Costello's, and find Lucia with a violent headache, and with her ideas
+apparently much confused. I come home, and hear and see nothing of you
+till night, when I am told you have gone to your room without stopping
+for a moment to satisfy my curiosity. You will be at breakfast? I want
+to see you.   LOUISA."
+
+He twisted the dainty sheet of paper round his fingers, while he slowly
+recalled the events of yesterday up to the point of his last decision,
+to see Lucia to-day and tell her how grievously he had been
+disappointed, and what she had been and still was to him. But then came
+the natural consequence of this; he would still, afterwards, have to
+meet both Lucia and her mother constantly for some days, and to behave
+to them just as usual. It had seemed to him already that to do so would
+be difficult; now he began to think it impossible. What to do then? To
+keep silence now and always, or to speak and then go away home, where he
+was needed? He must lose her sweet company--sweet to him still. He
+_must_ lose it, and what matter whether a few days sooner or later? It
+was better to see her once again, and go.
+
+He dressed hastily and went to the breakfast-room. Sir John always took
+an early stroll, and might not yet be back; was not, in fact, and Lady
+Dighton was there alone. Maurice only saw so much before he began to
+speak.
+
+"I am sorry," he said, "that you expected me last night. I came in very
+tired, and went straight to bed."
+
+"We waited dinner some time for you," Lady Dighton answered, "and you
+know how punctual Sir John is; but never mind now. You are looking ill,
+Maurice."
+
+"I am quite well. I am afraid I must go back to England though. Should
+you think me a barbarian if I started to-night and left you behind?"
+
+"Is something wrong? Your father is well?"
+
+"Quite well. But--I had letters last night. I am not certain that I must
+go, only I thought you ought to know at once that I might have to do
+so."
+
+"And Lucia? What will she say?"
+
+"I don't know. You will not tell her, please?"
+
+"Certainly not. I do not like carrying bad news. But you will see her no
+doubt before I do."
+
+Maurice hesitated a moment, and then made boldly a request which had
+been in his mind.
+
+"I want to see her. I should like to see her this morning if I could.
+Will you help me?"
+
+"You don't generally require help for that. But I suppose the fact is,
+you want to see her alone?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"I own I fancied you had settled your affairs yesterday; however, I
+_can_ help you, I think. Mrs. Costello half promised to go out with me
+some morning. I will go and try to carry her off to-day."
+
+"You are always kind, Louisa. What should I do without you?"
+
+"Ah! that is very pretty just now. By-and-by we shall see how much value
+you have for me."
+
+"Yes, you shall see."
+
+"But seriously, Maurice, you look wretched. One would say you had not
+slept for a week."
+
+"On the contrary, I slept later than usual to-day. It is that, I
+suppose, which makes me look dull. Here is Sir John. What time will your
+drive be?"
+
+They fixed the time, and as soon as breakfast was finished, Maurice went
+back to his room. He tore up the letters he had written last night, and
+wrote others announcing his return home, took them to the post himself,
+and then walked about in sheer inability to keep still, until it should
+be time to go to Mrs. Costello's.
+
+He made a tolerably long round, choosing always the noisiest, busiest
+streets, and came back to the hotel just as his cousin drove away. He
+followed her carriage, and passed it as it stood at Mrs. Costello's
+door, went on to the barrier, and coming back, found that it had
+disappeared. Now, therefore, probably Mrs. Costello was gone, and now,
+if ever, was his opportunity.
+
+When Claudine opened the door for "ce beau monsieur" she was aghast. He
+was positively "beau" no longer. He was pale and heavy-eyed. He actually
+seemed to have grown thinner. Even his frank smile and word of
+wonderfully English French had failed him. She went back to her kitchen
+in consternation. "Ce pauvre monsieur! C'est affreux! Something is wrong
+with him and mademoiselle. Ma foi, if _I_ had such a lover!"
+
+Mrs. Costello was gone, and Lucia sat alone, and very dreary. At
+Maurice's entrance she rose quickly; but kept her eyes averted so that
+his paleness did not strike her as it had done others. She coloured
+vividly, with a mixture of shame, pride, and gladness, at his coming;
+but she only said "Good morning," in a low undemonstrative tone, and
+they both sat down in silence.
+
+She had some little piece of work in her hands, but she did not go on
+with it, only kept twisting the thread round her fingers, and wondering
+what he would say; whether now that they were alone, he would refer to
+Percy; whether he would use his old privilege of blaming her when she
+did wrong.
+
+But she was not struck down helplessly now as she had been at first
+yesterday. She had begun to feel the stings of mortified pride, and was
+ready to turn fiercely upon anybody who should give her provocation.
+
+Maurice spoke first.
+
+"I came to say good-bye," he said. "I am obliged to go home."
+
+His words sounded curt and dry, just because he had such difficulty in
+making them steady at all, and she looked at him in her surprise, for
+the first time.
+
+"Not to-day? Is anything the matter?"
+
+"Nothing is the matter there. I told you I had business in Paris. Well,
+it is finished."
+
+"And you are going to-day?"
+
+"I start this evening."
+
+"We shall miss you."
+
+She felt a strange constraint creeping over her. She could not even
+express naturally her sorrow and disappointment at his going. She began
+again to have the feeling of being guilty, and accused, and being eager
+to defend herself without knowing how.
+
+"I shall not be far off, and you will know where to find me. When you
+want me, for whatever reason, you have only to write and I will come."
+
+"But I always want you," she answered half pettishly. "You said you
+would stay at least till Lady Dighton went away."
+
+Maurice got up and walked to the window.
+
+"I miscalculated," he said, coming back. "We all do sometimes, I
+suppose."
+
+He stood in a favourite attitude, leaning with one arm on the
+mantelpiece, and watching Lucia with a mixture of love and bitterness.
+His last words seemed to her a taunt, and tears of anger filled her
+eyes. She remained silent, and he had to speak again.
+
+"Do you care to know," he asked her, "what my business in Paris was?"
+
+"If you wish to tell me!"
+
+"Lucia! do not I wish to tell you everything? Could I have kept a secret
+which was always in my thoughts from you, do you suppose?"
+
+Lucia half rose. "That is not generous," she said. "You have no right to
+speak so. Yesterday you were kinder."
+
+"Yesterday I only thought of you. To-day I have had time to think a
+little of myself."
+
+"No doubt you are right. Only you ought not to have come to Paris--at
+least not to us. It would have been better if everything that belonged
+to our old life had been lost together."
+
+"Which means that you are quite willing to lose me?"
+
+"Willing? No. But I can understand that it is better."
+
+"Can you? You talk of losses--listen to what I have lost. You know what
+my life in Canada used to be--plenty of work, and not much money--but
+still reasonable hope of prosperity by-and-by. I used to make plans
+then, of having a home of my own, and I was not content that it should
+be just like other people's. I thought it would be the brightest,
+warmest, happiest home in the world. I _knew_ it would be if I only got
+what I wanted. A man can't have a home without a wife. I knew where my
+wife was to be found if ever I had one at all; and she was so sweet and
+good, and let me see so frankly that she liked and trusted me, that
+I--it was all vanity, Lucia--I never much doubted that in time I should
+make her love me."
+
+He stopped. Lucia was looking at him eagerly. Even yet she did not quite
+understand. "Go on," she said.
+
+"There was my mistake," he continued. "I might have won her then
+perhaps. But there came a visitor to the neighbourhood. He was
+handsome--at least women said so--and could make himself agreeable. He
+knew all about what people call the world--he had plenty of talk about
+all sorts of small topics. He was a very fine gentleman in fact, and you
+know what I was. Well, naturally enough, he wanted amusement. He looked
+about for it, I suppose, and was attracted by what had attracted
+me--no--I do not believe even that, for I loved her goodness, and he
+must have been caught by her beauty. At any rate, I had to go away and
+leave him near her; and I heard after a while that he was gone. That was
+late in autumn. Very early this year, I heard of his marriage; and I
+thought she had been unharmed.
+
+"My grandfather died, and I was rich enough to make that home I dreamed
+of, fit for its mistress. I went to find her. I found her, as I thought,
+lovelier and sweeter than ever. She seemed to feel more than ever that I
+was of some use and value to her--she made me believe that, next to her
+mother, she loved me best in the world. I delayed asking her to be my
+wife, only because our days were so happy, that I feared to disturb
+them--but I thought she was certainly mine.
+
+"Then, all at once, this man, this Percy, who had left her in her
+trouble--who was married--made his appearance, and I knew that she had
+loved him all the while--that she had never cared for me!"
+
+Long ago, Lucia had clasped her hands before her face. She sat trembling
+and cowering before this accuser. Involuntarily she said in her heart,
+"This is the true love. I have been blind--blind!"--but her words were
+frozen up--she bent forward as if under a blow--but made no sound.
+
+Maurice himself remained silent for a few minutes. He had spoken under a
+strong impulse of excitement, he hardly knew how. He, too, leaned his
+head upon his hand, but from under it he still watched the trembling
+girlish figure, which was the dearest thing in the world to him.
+Presently he saw a tear steal out from between her small fingers and
+fall glittering upon the black dress she wore. He moved uneasily--he had
+been surely very harsh. Another tear fell--tear of bitter humiliation,
+good for her to shed--then a third. He could not endure it. She might
+not love him, but that was no reason why he should turn her sisterly
+affection into hate. So he went to her, and laid his hand softly on one
+of hers, trying to draw it away. She let him do so after a moment, but
+her face remained just as much hidden.
+
+"Lucia!" he said, full of distress, "Lucia! speak to me."
+
+She could not--all her efforts were needed to keep down the painful
+swelling in her throat. She was fighting for power to say humbly, "Try
+to forgive me," but he did not give her time.
+
+"If you would only say good-bye--only one word;" and he almost knelt
+beside her, raising her cold hand half-unconsciously to his lips.
+
+She drew it away suddenly. His tenderness was the worst reproach of all.
+Her sobs burst out without control. She rose. "No; rather forgive me,"
+she tried to say, but her voice was choked and hardly audible; and she
+fled from the room, hurrying into her own, and fell down on the floor at
+the bedside.
+
+Maurice waited for awhile, thinking she might come back. He sat down
+near where her chair stood, and leaning both elbows on the table, tried
+to calm himself after the terrible excitement. Lucia's tears and her
+silence had utterly disarmed him--he called himself a brute for having
+distressed her. But as time went on, and she did not return, he
+remembered that he could not just then meet Mrs. Costello, and he got up
+and began to walk about the room uneasily. Still, time went on, and
+there was no sign of Lucia. He wished to knock at her door, but dared
+not. He must go then without one good-bye!
+
+"That is my own fault at any rate," he said, and went away softly,
+without even seeing Claudine.
+
+But, as it happened, Mrs. Costello was long coming back. Lady Dighton
+had confided to her Maurice's wish to see Lucia alone, and the two
+ladies, very happy and confidential over their schemes, both supposing
+that nothing but good could come of a long talk between the young
+people--prolonged their absence till more than two hours after Maurice
+had returned to the hotel. So that his preparations for leaving Paris
+were almost completed by the time that Lucia, hearing her mother's
+entrance, came out of the solitude where she had hidden her tears and
+her repentance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Lucia tried to hide the traces of her tears, but the attempt was not
+particularly successful. Mrs. Costello saw at once that something was
+wrong; she asked whether Maurice had been there, and was told briefly
+yes, but she delayed any other questions for two reasons. One was, that
+merely saying that "Yes" had brought a quiver over Lucia's face, and the
+other, that she herself was tired and had got into a habit of dreading
+any kind of excitement. She felt a presentiment that there was nothing
+pleasant to hear, and at the same time was quite sure that whatever
+there was, her daughter would be unable to keep long from her.
+
+She allowed Lucia to carry away her bonnet and shawl, and arrange her
+comfortably on the sofa for a rest. Then she began to describe her
+drive, and the shops at which Lady Dighton had been making various
+purchases. Lucia listened, and tried to be interested, and to lose the
+sense of shame and mortification mixed with real compunction, which was
+making her wretched. But her heart ached, and besides, she had cried,
+sitting all alone on her bedroom floor, till she was exhausted and half
+blind. All the while her mother talked, she kept thinking of
+Maurice--she neither called him "Poor Maurice," in her thoughts, nor
+"Dear Maurice"--but only "Maurice, Maurice," over and over again--her
+friend who was gone from her, whom she had justly lost.
+
+But when she was growing more and more absorbed in her own regrets, and
+her mother's voice was beginning to sound to her like one in a dream,
+there came a sudden sharp ring at the door-bell. Could it be Maurice?
+She grew red as fire while she listened--but the door opened and shut,
+and there were no steps but Claudine's in the hall.
+
+The maid came in. "A letter for madame, and a packet for
+mademoiselle,"--both directed by Maurice.
+
+Lucia took hers to the window. She scarcely dared to open it, but she
+feared to appear to hesitate. Slowly she broke the seals, and found a
+tiny morocco case and a note. She hardly looked at the case, the note
+would be Maurice's farewell, and she did not know whether it would bring
+reproach or forgiveness with it. It was not long--even with her dazzled
+eyes, she was not more than a minute reading it.
+
+
+
+"My dear old playfellow and pupil"--it began--"I cannot leave Paris
+without saying 'Good-bye,' and asking you to forgive me, not for what I
+said this morning, but for the way in which I said it. If you cannot
+love me (and I understand now that you cannot) it is not your fault; and
+I ought to have remembered that, even when it seemed hardest. I cannot
+stay here now; but you will recollect that if ever you _want_ me--as a
+friend or brother, you know--a single line will be enough to bring me to
+your help. Finally, I beg of you, for the sake of old times, to wear the
+ring I send. I bought it for you--you ought to have no scruple in
+accepting a keepsake from your oldest friend,       MAURICE LEIGH."
+
+
+
+In the little box was the ring bought so long ago in Liverpool. It
+flashed, as if with the light of living eyes, as Lucia opened the lid.
+She regarded it for a moment almost with fear, then took it out and
+placed it on her finger--the third finger of her left hand. It fitted
+perfectly, and seemed to her like the embodiment of a watchful guardian
+who would keep her from wrong and from evil. She fancied this, though
+just then two or three drops fell heavily from her eyes, and one rested
+for a moment on the very diamonds themselves.
+
+Mrs. Costello's note was longer than Lucia's, and she read it twice
+over, before she was sure that she comprehended it. Then she called
+sharply "Lucia!"
+
+"Come here," she said, as the girl turned her face reluctantly; and
+there was nothing to do but to obey. Lucia came to the side of the sofa,
+where her mother had raised herself up against the cushions, but she
+trembled so, that to steady herself she dropped down on her knees on a
+footstool. Her right arm rested on the table, but the other hand, where
+the ring was, lay hidden in the folds of her dress.
+
+"What does this mean, Lucia?" Mrs. Costello asked in a tone which she
+had never in her life used to her daughter before. "Are you out of your
+senses?"
+
+Lucia was silent. She could almost have said yes.
+
+"You know of course that Maurice is gone?"
+
+"Yes I know it," she answered just audibly.
+
+"Gone, and not likely to return?"
+
+"He tells me so."
+
+"What have you said to him?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing! That is absurd. Why did he wish to see you alone to-day?"
+
+"To tell _me_ something," Lucia said with a little flash of opposition
+awakened by her mother's anger.
+
+"Yes--I thought so. To tell you something which, to any girl in the
+world who was not inconceivably blind or inconceivably vain, would have
+been the best news she ever heard in her life. And you said _nothing_?"
+
+"Mamma, it is over. I can't help it."
+
+"So he says--he, who is not much in the habit of talking nonsense, says
+this to me. Just listen. 'We have both made the mistake of reasoning
+about a thing with which reason has nothing to do. I see the error now
+too late for myself, but not, I hope, too late to leave her in peace.
+Pray do not speak to her about it at all.' But it is my duty to speak."
+
+"Mamma, Maurice is right. It is too late."
+
+"It is not too late for him to get some little justice; and it is not
+too late for you to know what you have lost."
+
+"Oh! I do know," she cried out. "But even if there had been no other
+reason, how could I have been different? He never told me till to-day."
+And she clasped her two hands together on the edge of the table and hid
+her face on them.
+
+Mrs. Costello leaned a little more forward, and touched her daughter's
+arm.
+
+"I must speak to you about this, Lucia," she said. "I do not want to be
+harsh, but you ought to know what you have done. And, good heavens! for
+what? A stranger, a mere coxcomb comes in your way, and you listen to
+his fine words, and straight begin to be able to see nothing but him,
+though the most faithful, generous heart a girl ever had offered to her
+is in your very hand! _I_ was bad enough--but I had no such love as
+Maurice's to leave behind me."
+
+Again Lucia moved, without speaking. As she did so, the ring on her hand
+flashed.
+
+"What is that on your finger?" Mrs. Costello asked.
+
+"Maurice's ring. _He_ was not so hard on me."
+
+"Hard?" Mrs. Costello was pressing her hand more and more tightly to her
+side. "Child, it is you that have been hard with your unconscious ways."
+
+But Lucia had found power to speak at last.
+
+"After all," she said obstinately, "I neither see why I should be
+supposed to have done wrong, nor why anybody else should be spoken of
+so. It is no harm, and no shame," she went on, raising her head, and
+showing her burning cheeks, "for a girl to like somebody who cares very
+much for her; and I think she would be a poor creature if she did not go
+on caring for him as long as she believed he was true to her."
+
+The little spark of pride died out with the last words, and there was a
+faint quiver in her voice.
+
+"Maurice would say so himself," she ended, triumphantly.
+
+"Of course he would. But I don't see that Maurice would be a fair judge
+of the case. The question is, what does a girl deserve who has to choose
+between Maurice and Percy, and chooses Percy?"
+
+Lucia recoiled. She could hardly yet bear to hear the name she had been
+dreaming over so long spoken in so harsh a way, and still less to hear
+it coupled in this way with Maurice's.
+
+"Maurice will soon find somebody else," she said. "He is not a poor man,
+mamma, that he should mind so much."
+
+Mrs. Costello half rose from the sofa. Pain and anger together
+overpowered her. She stood up for a moment, trying to speak, and then
+suddenly fell back, fainting.
+
+Lucia sprang from her knees. Was her mother dead? It was possible, she
+knew. Had they parted for ever in anger? But the idea, from its very
+horror, did not affect her as a lighter fear might have done. She
+brought remedies, and called Claudine to help her, in a kind of calm.
+They tried all they could think of, and at last there came some feeble
+return of life. But the agitation and fatigue of the day had been too
+much for such strength as hers to rally from. One fainting fit
+succeeded another, with scarcely a moment's interval.
+
+All evening it was the same. A doctor came, and stayed till the attacks
+ceased; but when he went away, his patient lay, white and almost
+unconscious even of Lucia's presence. It was terrible sitting there by
+the bedside, and watching for every slight movement--for the hope of a
+word or a smile. It was consolation unspeakable when, late at night,
+Mrs. Costello opened her eyes, free from the bewildered look of
+suffering, and, seeing her child's pale face beside her, put out her
+hand, and said softly, "My poor Lucia!"
+
+After that she dropped asleep, and Lucia watched till early morning. It
+was the first of such watches she had ever kept, and the awful stillness
+made her tremble. Often she got up from her seat to see if her mother's
+breathing still really went on; it seemed difficult to believe that
+there was any stir whatever of life in the room. In those long hours,
+too, she had time to revert to the doings of the past day--to remember
+both Maurice's words and her mother's, and to separate, to some degree,
+the truth from all exaggeration. Her mind seemed to go back also, with
+singular clearness, to the time of Percy's coming to Cacouna, and even
+earlier. She began to comprehend the significance of trifles, which had
+seemed insignificant at the time, and to believe in the truth of what
+Maurice had told her, that even then he was building all his hopes on
+the possibility of her loving him. She wondered at herself now, as
+others had wondered at her; but she still justified herself: "He was my
+brother--my dearest friend. _He_," and this time she did not mean
+Maurice, "was the first person who ever put any other ideas into my
+head. And I have lost them both." But already the true love had so far
+gained its rights, that it was Maurice, far more than Percy, of whose
+loss she thought. Once that night, when she had sat quite without moving
+for a long time, and when her meditations had grown more and more
+dreary, she suddenly raised her hand, and her ring flashed out in the
+gloom. By some instinct she put it to her lips; it seemed to her a
+symbol of regard and protecting care, which comforted her strangely.
+
+When the night was past, and Claudine came early in the morning to take
+Lucia's place, Mrs. Costello still slept; and the poor child, quite worn
+out--pale and shivering in the cold dawn--was glad to creep away to
+bed, and to her heavy but troubled slumber.
+
+All that day the house was kept silent and shut up. Mrs. Costello had
+been much tried, the doctor thought, and needed a complete calm in which
+to recover herself. With her old habit of self-command she understood
+this, and remained still, almost without speaking, till some degree of
+strength should return. Lucia tended her with the most anxious care, and
+kept her troubled thoughts wholly to herself.
+
+About two o'clock Lady Dighton came. Hearing that Mrs. Costello was ill,
+she begged to see Lucia, who came to her, looking weary and worn, but
+longing to hear of Maurice.
+
+It seemed, however, as if she were not to be gratified. Lady Dighton was
+full of concern and kind offers of assistance, but she said nothing of
+her cousin until just as she went away. Then she did say, "You know that
+Maurice left us yesterday evening? I miss him dreadfully; but I dare say
+he thinks much more of whether other people miss him."
+
+She went, and they were alone again. So alone, as they had never been
+while Maurice was in Paris, when he might come in at any moment and
+bring a cheerful breath from the outer world into their narrow and
+feminine life,--as he would never come again! 'Oh,' Lucia thought, 'why
+could not he be our friend always--just our own Maurice as he used to
+be--and not have these miserable fancies? We might have been so happy!'
+
+Towards night Mrs. Costello had greatly revived. She was able to sit up
+a little, and to talk much as usual. She did not allude at all to her
+last conversation with her daughter, and Lucia herself dared not renew
+so exciting a subject. But all anger seemed to have entirely passed away
+from between them. They were completely restored to their old natural
+confidence and tenderness; and that was a comfort which Lucia's terror
+of last night made exquisitely sweet to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Two or three days passed before its former tranquillity was restored to
+the apartment in the Champs Elysees. Its "_former_ tranquillity,"
+indeed, did not seem to come back at all. There were new elements of
+discomfort and disturbance at work, even more than in the days before
+Maurice came, and when Mrs. Costello both feared and hoped for his
+coming. He was never mentioned now, except during Lady Dighton's daily
+visit. She, much mystified, and not sure whether Lucia was to be pitied
+or blamed, was too kind-hearted not to sympathize with her anxiety for
+her mother, and she therefore came constantly--first to inquire for, and
+then to sit with Mrs. Costello, insisting that Lucia should take that
+opportunity of going out in her carriage.
+
+These drives gave the poor child not only fresh air, but also a short
+interval each day in which she could be natural, and permit herself the
+indulgence of the depression which had taken possession of her. She felt
+certain that her mother, though she treated her with her usual
+tenderness, still felt surprised and disappointed by her conduct.
+Maurice also, who had been always so patient, so indulgent, had gone
+away in trouble through her; he had reproached her, perhaps justly, and
+had given up for ever their old intimacy. She was growing more and more
+miserable. If ever, for a moment, she forgot her burden, some little
+incident was sure to occur which brought naturally to her lips the
+words, 'I wish Maurice were here;' and she would turn sick with the
+thought, 'He never will be here again, and it is my fault.'
+
+So the days went on till the Dightons left Paris. They did so without
+any clear understanding having reached Lady Dighton's mind of the state
+of affairs between Maurice and Lucia. All she actually knew was that
+Maurice had been obliged to go home unexpectedly, and that ever since he
+went Lucia had looked like a ghost. And as this conjunction of
+circumstances did not appear unfavourable to her cousin's wishes, and as
+she had no hint of those wishes having been given up, she was quite
+disposed to continue to regard Lucia as the future mistress of Hunsdon.
+
+However, she was not sorry to leave Paris. Her visit there, with regard
+to its principal object, had been rather unsatisfactory; at all events
+it had had no visible results, and she liked results. She wanted to go
+home and see how Maurice reigned at Hunsdon, and tell her particular
+friends about the beautiful girl she hoped some day to have the pleasure
+of patronizing.
+
+Mrs. Costello had regained nearly her usual health. One day, shortly
+after the Dightons left, she asked Lucia to bring her desk, saying that
+she must write to Mr. Wynter, and that it was time they should make some
+different arrangement, since, as they had long ago agreed, Paris was too
+expensive for them to stay there all the year.
+
+Lucia remembered what Maurice had said to her about her mother returning
+to England, but the consciousness of what had really been in his mind at
+the moment stopped her just as she was about to speak. She brought the
+desk, and said only,
+
+"Have you thought of any place, mamma?"
+
+"I have thought of two or three, but none please me," Mrs. Costello
+answered. "We want a cheap place--one within easy reach of England, and
+one not too much visited by tourists. It is not very easy to find a
+place with all the requisites."
+
+"No, indeed. But you are not able to travel yet."
+
+"Yes I am. Indeed, it is necessary we should go soon, if not
+immediately."
+
+Lucia sighed. She would be sorry to leave Paris. Meantime her mother had
+opened the desk, but before beginning to write she took out a small
+packet of letters, and handed them to Lucia. "I will give these to you,"
+she said, "for you have the greatest concern with them, though they were
+not meant for your eyes."
+
+Lucia looked at the packet and recognized Maurice's hand.
+
+"Ought I to read them, then?" she said.
+
+"Certainly. Nay, I desire that you will read them carefully. Yes,
+Lucia," she went on in a softer tone, "I wish you to know all that has
+been hidden from you. Take those notes and keep them. When you are an
+old woman you may be glad to remember that they were ever written."
+
+Lucia could not answer. She carried the packet away to her own chair,
+and sitting down, opened it and began to read. It was only Maurice's
+notes, written to Mrs. Costello from England, and they were many of them
+very hasty, impetuous, and not particularly well-expressed missives. But
+if they had been eloquence itself, they could not have stirred the
+reader's heart as they did. It was the simple bare fact of a great
+love--so much greater than she could ever have deserved, and yet passed
+by, disregarded, unperceived in her arrogant ignorance; this was what
+she seemed to see in them, and it wrung her heart with vain repentance
+and regret. And, as she bent over them there suddenly arose in her mind
+a doubt--a question which seemed to have very little to do with those
+letters, yet which they certainly helped to raise--had she ever loved
+Percy? Lucia was romantic. Like other romantic girls, she would formerly
+have said--indeed, she had said to herself many times--"I shall love him
+all my life--even if he forgets me I shall still love him." And yet now
+she was conscious--dimly, unwillingly conscious, that she thought very
+little of him, and that even that little was not at all in the strain
+she would have felt to be proper in a deserted heroine of fiction. She
+was not the least likely to die of a broken heart for him; she was much
+more inclined to die for grief and shame at what had befallen Maurice.
+So that question, which was in itself a mortifying one, rose
+rebelliously in her mind--had she ever loved Percy? or had she been
+wasting her thoughts on a mere lay-figure, dressed up by her own fancy
+in attributes not at all belonging to it? Poor child! had she known how
+many women--and perhaps men also--do the very same, the idea might not
+have seemed quite so horrible to her.
+
+Horrible or not, she put it aside and went back to the letters. In the
+earlier ones there were many allusions which seemed almost to belong to
+a former existence, so utterly had her life changed since they were
+written. The bright days of last summer, before the first cloud came
+over her fortunes, seemed to return almost too vividly to her memory;
+she would have bargained away a year of her life to be able to regain
+the simple happiness of that time. It could never be done; she had
+suffered, and had done some good and much evil; the past was ended and
+put away for ever; she could not, for all she might give, again set
+herself
+
+            "To the same key
+  Of the remembered harmony."
+
+She closed the last letter of the little pile and put them carefully
+away. Already they seemed to her one of her most valuable possessions.
+
+Mrs. Costello had finished writing to her cousin. She was busy with
+Murray and a map of France; and when Lucia came back she called her.
+
+"Come here, I have half decided."
+
+"Yes, mamma. Where is it?"
+
+"Of course, I cannot be sure. I must make some inquiries; but I think
+this will do--Bourg-Cailloux."
+
+Lucia looked where her mother's finger pointed on the map.
+
+"Is it a seaport?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, with steamers sailing direct to England."
+
+"But in that case, will it not be in the way of tourists?"
+
+"I suspect not; I have looked what Murray says, and it is so little that
+it is pretty evident it is not much visited by the people who follow his
+guidance. Besides, I do not see what attraction the place can have
+except just the sea. It is an old fortified town, with a market and
+considerable maritime trade--sends supplies of various kinds to London,
+and has handsome docks; from all which I conclude that business, and not
+pleasure, is the thing which takes people there."
+
+"Could you bear a noisy, busy town?"
+
+"After this I do not think we need fear the noise of any provincial
+town. In a very quiet place we should not have the direct communication
+with England, which is an object with me."
+
+"But, mamma, what need----?"
+
+"Every need, for your sake as well as my own. We _must_ be where, in
+case of emergency, you could quickly have help from England."
+
+Lucia trembled at her mother's words. She dared not disregard them after
+what had lately happened, but she could not discuss this aspect of the
+question.
+
+"I must find out about the journey," Mrs. Costello went on. "If it is
+not a very fatiguing one I believe I shall decide at once. We shall both
+be the better, in any case, for a little sea air."
+
+"I shall like it at all events. I have never seen the sea except during
+our voyage."
+
+"No. I used to be very fond of it. I believe now, if I could get out to
+sit on the beach I should grow much stronger."
+
+"Oh, mamma, you must. What is the name of the place? Here it
+is--Bourg-Cailloux. When do you think we can go?"
+
+"Not before next week, certainly. Do not make up your mind to that
+place, for perhaps it may not suit us yet to go there."
+
+Lucia knelt down, and put her arms softly round her mother's waist.
+
+"Dear mother," she said slowly, "I wish you would go back to England."
+
+Mrs. Costello started. "To England?" she said, "you know quite well that
+it is impossible."
+
+"You would be glad to go, mamma."
+
+"Child, you do not know _how_ glad I should be. To die and be buried
+among my own people!"
+
+"To go and live among them rather, mamma; Maurice put it into my head
+that you might."
+
+She spoke the last sentence timidly; after they had both so avoided
+Maurice's name, she half dreaded its effect on her mother. But Mrs.
+Costello only shook her head sadly.
+
+"Maurice thought of a different return from any that would be possible
+now. Possibly, if all had been as we wished--both he and I--I might
+have gone over to a part of England so far from the place I left. Say no
+more of it, dear," she added quickly, "let us make the best of what we
+have, and try to forget what we have not."
+
+She bent down and kissed her daughter as she spoke. But still these last
+few sentences had furnished a little fresh bitterness for Lucia's
+thoughts. Her mother's exile might have ended but for her.
+
+Bourg-Cailloux was next day fully decided on for their new residence.
+From the time of the decision Lucia began to be very busy in preparation
+for their journey, and for leaving the place where she had been too
+happy, and too miserable, not to have become attached to it. Claudine,
+too, had to be left behind with some regret, but they hoped to see Paris
+again the following year if all should be well. Early one morning they
+started off once again, a somewhat forlorn pair of travellers, and at
+three o'clock on a bright afternoon rattled over the rough pavements, on
+their way to the Hotel des Bains at Bourg-Cailloux.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+Summer came very early that year, and the narrow streets of
+Bourg-Cailloux were full of the glare and heat of the season. The
+pavements of white stones, always rough and painful to the feet, were
+burning hot in the middle of the day, and outside the walls, especially
+towards the sea, the light coloured, sandy roads were more scorching
+still. The Hotel des Bains, just waking up after its winter repose, had
+proved but a comfortless dwelling. After two or three days, therefore,
+Mrs. Costello had left it, and she and Lucia were now settled in a
+lodging in the city itself. Their windows looked out on the "Place,"
+where a brave sea-captain, the hero of Bourg-Cailloux, stood in effigy,
+and still seemed to keep watch over the place he had once defended, and
+where, twice a week, the market-women came in their long black cloaks
+and dazzling caps, and brought heaps of fragrant flowers and early
+fruit. In the very early morning, the shadow of a quaint old tower fell
+transversely upon the pavement of the square, and reached almost to
+their door; and in the evening Lucia grew fond of watching for the fire
+which was nightly lighted on the same tower that it might be a guide to
+sailors far out at sea. The town was quiet and dull--there was no
+theatre, no concerts, at present even no balls--the only public
+amusement of the population seemed to be listening in the still evenings
+to the band which played in front of the guard-house in the Place. There
+they came in throngs, and promenaded slowly over the sharp-edged stones,
+with a keen and visible enjoyment of the fresh air, the music, and each
+other's company, which was in itself a pleasant thing to see.
+
+The journey, the discomforts of the first few days, and the second
+moving, had tried Mrs. Costello extremely. She spent most of her time on
+the sofa now, and had as yet only been able once or twice to go down and
+sit for a while on the sunny beach, where children were playing and
+building sand castles, and where the sea breeze was sweet and reviving.
+
+There was a small colony of English people settled in the town, mostly
+people with small incomes and many children, or widows of poor
+gentlemen; but there was also a large floating population of English
+sailors, and for their benefit an English consul and chaplain, who
+supplied a temporal and spiritual leader to the community. But the
+mother and daughter kept much apart from their country people, who were
+inclined to be sociable and friendly towards them. Mrs. Costello's
+illness, and Lucia's preoccupation, made them receive with indifference
+the visits of those who, after seeing them at the little English church,
+and by the sea, thought it "only neighbourly to call."
+
+Their home arrangements were different to those they had made in Paris.
+Here they were really lodgers, and their landlady, Madame Everaert,
+waited on them. She was a fat, good natured, half Dutch widow, who took
+from the first a lively interest in the invalid mother, and in the
+daughter who would have been so handsome if she had been stouter and
+more rosy; and in a very little while she found that her new lodgers
+had one quality, which above all others gave them a claim on her good
+will, they were excellent listeners. Almost every evening in the
+twilight she would come herself to their sitting-room, with the lamp, or
+with some other errand for an excuse, and would stay chattering in her
+droll Flemish French for at least half an hour. This came to be one of
+the features of the day. Another was a daily walk, which Lucia had most
+frequently to take alone, but which always gave her either from the
+shore, or from the ramparts, a long sorrowful look over the sea towards
+England--towards Canada perhaps--or instead of either, to some far-away
+fairy country where there were no mistakes and no misunderstandings.
+
+Between these two--between morning and evening--time was almost a blank.
+Lucia had completely given up her habits of study. She did not even read
+novels, except aloud; and when she was not in some way occupied in
+caring for her mother, she sat hour after hour by the window, with a
+piece of crochet, which seemed a second Penelope's web, for it never was
+visibly larger one day than it had been the day before. Mrs. Costello
+gradually grew anxious as she perceived how dull and inanimate her
+daughter remained. She would almost have been glad of an excuse for
+giving her a gentle scolding, but Lucia's entire submission and
+sweetness of temper made it impossible. There seemed nothing to be done,
+but to try to force her into cheerful occupation, and to hope that time
+and her own good sense would do the rest. Hitherto they had had no
+piano; they got one, and for a day or two Lucia made a languid pretence
+of practising. But one day she was turning over her music, among which
+were a number of quaint old English songs and madrigals, which she and
+Maurice had jointly owned long ago at Cacouna, when she came upon one
+the words of which she had been used to laugh at, much to the annoyance
+of her fellow-singers. She had a half remembrance of them, and turned
+the pages to look if they were really so absurd. The music she knew
+well, and how the voices blended in the quaint pathetic harmony.
+
+      "Out alas! my faith is ever true,
+      Yet will she never rue,
+      Nor grant me any grace.
+  I sit and sigh, I weep, I faint, I die,
+  While she alone refuseth sympathy."
+
+She shut the music up, and would have said, if anybody had asked her,
+that she had no patience with such foolish laments, even in poetry; but,
+nevertheless, the verse stayed in her memory, haunted her fancy
+perpetually, and seemed like a living voice in her ears--
+
+  "Out alas! my faith is ever true."
+
+She cared no more for singing, for every song she liked was associated
+with Maurice, and each one seemed now to have the same burden; and when
+she played, it was no longer gay airs, or even the wonderful 'Morceaux
+de Salon,' of incredible noise and difficulty, which had been required
+of her as musical exhibitions, but always some melancholy andante or
+reverie which seemed to come to her fingers without choice or intention.
+
+One day when she had gone for her solitary walk, and Mrs. Costello all
+alone was lying on the sofa, trying to read, but really considering with
+some uneasiness the condition of their affairs, Madame Everaert knocked
+at the door.
+
+She brought with her a fresh bunch of flowers just bought in the market,
+but she was as usual overflowing with talk.
+
+"It is extremely hot," she said, fanning herself with her pocket
+handkerchief, "and I met mademoiselle going out. It is excessively hot."
+
+Mrs. Costello looked uneasy.
+
+"Do you think it is too hot to be out?" she asked.
+
+"No. Perhaps not. Certainly, mademoiselle has gone to the ramparts, and
+the walk there is not nearly so hot and fatiguing as down to the beach.
+Mademoiselle is very fond of the sea."
+
+"Yes, she enjoys it greatly. It is new to her."
+
+"One day, not long ago, I was coming along the top of the
+ramparts,--madame has not been there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"There is a broad space on the top, and it is covered with soft green
+turf quite pleasant to sit down upon. Very few people pass, and you can
+see a long way out to sea. Well, one day I came along there, because
+upon the grass it was pleasanter walking than on the stones in the
+street, and I saw Mademoiselle Lucia who was sitting quite quiet,
+looking out far away. I came very near, but she never saw me. I thought
+I would speak to her just to say how beautiful the day was, and the air
+so sweet, when I saw just in time madame, that she was crying. Great
+big tears were falling down on her hands, and she never seemed to feel
+them even. Mon Dieu, madame! I could hardly keep from crying myself, she
+looked so sad; but I went by softly, and she never saw me. Mademoiselle
+regrets England very much."
+
+"She has never been in England. She was born in Canada, and that, you
+know, is very far away."
+
+"In Canada! Is it possible? Does madame come from Canada?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And it is in Canada our good father Paul has suffered so much! Oh, the
+terrible country!"
+
+"Why should it be terrible? I have seen Father Paul, and he does not
+look as if he had suffered much."
+
+"Not now, Dieu merci. But long ago. Madame, he went to convert the
+savages--the Indians."
+
+Mrs. Costello started. Father Paul was a Jesuit priest--an old venerable
+man--old enough, as it flashed into her mind, to have been one of the
+Moose Island missionaries. Yet such an idea was improbable--there had no
+doubt been many other Jesuit missions besides the one where Christian
+had been trained.
+
+"Do you know where it was that he went?" she asked, after a moment's
+pause.
+
+"It was in Canada," Madame Everaert repeated, "and he lived among the
+savages; if madame is from Canada, she would know where the savages
+live."
+
+"There are very few savages now," Mrs. Costello answered with a smile.
+"I know where there used to be some--possibly that was the very place."
+
+"No doubt. I shall tell the good father that madame knows it."
+
+"Stay. Don't be quite sure that it is the place. Canada is a very large
+country."
+
+"Still it is so singular that madame should come from there. Father Paul
+will be delighted."
+
+Mrs. Costello thought a minute. She was greatly tempted to wish to see
+this priest who might have known her husband. She need not betray
+herself to him. For the rest, she had noticed him often, and thought
+what a good, pleasant face he had--a little too round and rosy perhaps,
+but very honest and not vulgar. He might be an agreeable visitor, even
+if he had no other claim on her.
+
+"Do you think," she said, "that he would mind coming to see me? I should
+be very glad to receive him."
+
+"I am sure he would be charmed. He likes so much to talk of Canada."
+
+"Will you say to him then, please, that I have lived there many years
+and should be very pleased to have a chat with him about it. I might be
+able to give him news."
+
+Madame Everaert was delighted. She went away quite satisfied to find
+Father Paul at the very earliest opportunity, and to deliver to him with
+_empressement_ Mrs. Costello's invitation.
+
+Lucia, meanwhile, took her usual walk. She went quickly along the stony
+streets and climbed up the grassy side of the rampart. It was all still
+and solitary, and she sat down where there lay before her a wide stretch
+of perfectly level country, only broken by the lines of the old
+fortifications, and bordered by the sea. In the clear morning sunshine,
+she could distinguish the white foam where the waves broke against the
+wooden pier, and out on the blue waters there were white shining specks
+of sails. Ships coming and going, and on the beach moving groups of
+people--everywhere something that had life and motion and looked on to a
+future, an object beyond this present moment--everywhere but here with
+her.
+
+"Oh," she said to herself, "how wearisome life is! What good to myself
+or to anybody else is this existence of mine? Am I never either to be
+good or happy again? Happy, I suppose that does not so much matter--but
+good? If people are wrong once, can they never get right again? I used
+to think I should like to be a Sister of Mercy--and now that is all that
+is left for me, I do not feel any inclination for it. I don't think I
+have a vocation even for that."
+
+And at this point she fell into a lower depth of melancholy--one of
+those sad moods which, at eighteen, have even a kind of charm in their
+exaggeration.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+A day or two later there came, forwarded from Paris, an English letter
+for Mrs. Costello. It arrived in the evening, at a time when they had no
+expectation of receiving anything, and Madame Everaert brought it up,
+and delivered it into Mrs. Costello's own hand, so that Lucia was not
+near enough to see from whom it came. The general appearance of the
+letter made her think it was English, and she knew that Mr. Wynter had
+their present address and would not write to Paris. So she felt a
+half-joyful, half-frightened suspicion that it must be from Maurice, and
+her idea was confirmed by her mother's proceedings. For Mrs. Costello
+having looked at the address, put the letter quietly in her pocket, and
+went on talking about Father Paul, from whom they were expecting a
+visit.
+
+Lucia could hardly restrain herself. It was clear that Mrs. Costello did
+not mean to open the letter before her, or to tell her whence it came;
+but her anxiety to know was only increased by this certainty. She had
+almost made up her mind to ask plainly whether it was from Maurice, when
+the door opened and the old priest came in.
+
+He was a fine-looking, white-haired man of more than seventy, to whom
+the long black robe seemed exactly the most suitable dress possible, and
+he had a good manner too, which was neither that of a mere priest, nor
+of a mere gentleman, but belonged to both. The first few minutes of talk
+made Mrs. Costello sure that she did not repent having invited his
+acquaintance; a fact which had been in some little doubt before.
+
+She had said to him, "Madame Everaert told me you knew Canada, and, as
+we are Canadians, I could not resist the wish to see one who might still
+feel an interest in our country," and this turned the conversation
+immediately to what she desired to hear.
+
+He answered her with a smile, "Probably my knowledge of Canada is very
+different from yours; mine is almost entirely confined to the wilder
+and less settled parts--to the Indian lands, in fact."
+
+"In Upper Canada?"
+
+"Yes. And then it is many years since I returned."
+
+"I have lived for twenty years in Upper Canada; and of some of the
+Indians, the Ojibways of Moose Island, I have heard a great deal;
+perhaps you know them?"
+
+The priest's eye brightened, but next moment he sighed.
+
+"The very place!" he said. "Unhappy people! But I am forgetting that
+you, madame, are not likely to share my feelings on the subject."
+
+"I do not know," Mrs. Costello answered, "that we should be wholly
+disagreed. I have heard, I may almost say I know myself, much of your
+mission there."
+
+"Is it possible? Can any good remain still?"
+
+"One of your old pupils died lately, and in his last hours he remembered
+nothing so well as your teaching."
+
+Her voice shook; this sudden mention of her husband, voluntary as it
+was, agitated her strongly. Father Paul saw it and wondered, but
+appeared to see nothing.
+
+"Poor boys! You console me, madame, for many sad thoughts. I was a young
+man then, and, as you see, I am now a very old one, but I have known few
+more sorrowful days than the one when I left Moose Island."
+
+"Yet it must have been a hard and wearisome life?"
+
+"Hard?--Yes--but not wearisome. We were ready to bear the hardness as
+long as we hoped to see the fruit of our labours. I thought there had
+been no fruit, or very little; but you prove to me that I was too
+faithless."
+
+Mrs. Costello remained a moment silent. She was much inclined to trust
+her guest with that part of her story which referred to Christian--no
+doubt he was in the habit of keeping stranger secrets than hers.
+
+While she hesitated he spoke again.
+
+"But the whole face of the country must have changed since I knew it.
+Did you live in that neighbourhood?"
+
+"For several years--all the first years of my married life, I lived on
+Moose Island itself, and my daughter--come to me a moment, Lucia,--was
+born there."
+
+She took Lucia's hand and drew her forward. The remaining daylight fell
+full upon her dark hair and showed the striking outlines of her face and
+graceful head.
+
+Father Paul looked in amazement--looked from the daughter to the mother,
+and the mother to the daughter, not knowing what to think or say.
+
+Mrs. Costello relieved his embarrassment.
+
+"My marriage was a strange one," she said. "The old pupil of whom I
+spoke to you just now, was my husband."
+
+"Your husband, madame? Do I understand you? Mademoiselle's father then
+was--"
+
+"An Indian."
+
+He remained dumb with astonishment, not willing to give vent to the
+exclamations of surprise and almost sorrow which he felt might be
+offensive to his hostess, while she told him in the fewest possible
+words of her marriage to Christian and separation from him.
+
+There was one thought in the old priest's mind, which had never, at
+anytime, occurred to Mrs. Costello--Christian had been destined for the
+Church. He had taken no vows, certainly; but for years he had been
+trained with that object, and at one time his vocation had seemed
+remarkably clear and strong--his marriage, at all, therefore, seemed to
+add enormity to his other guilt.
+
+And yet there was a sort of lurking tenderness for the boy who had been
+the favourite pupil of the mission--who had seemed to have such natural
+aptitude for good of all sorts, until suddenly the mask dropped off, and
+the good turned to evil. It might be that his misdoings were but the
+result of a temporary possession of the evil one himself, and that at
+last all might have been well.
+
+Mrs. Costello spoke more fully as she saw how deep was the listener's
+interest in her story; yet, when she came near the end, she almost
+shrank from the task. The sacred tenderness which belongs to the dead,
+had fallen like a veil over all her last memories of her husband; and
+now she wanted to share them with this good old man, whose teaching had
+made them what they were.
+
+More than once she had to stop, to wait till her voice was less
+unsteady, but she went on to the very end--even to that strange burial
+in the waters. When all was told, there was a silence in the room;
+Father Paul had wet eyes, unseen in the dusk, and he did not care to
+speak; Lucia, whose tears were very ready of late; was crying quietly,
+with her head lying against the end of the sofa, while Mrs. Costello,
+leaning back on her cushions, waited quietly till the painful throbbing
+of her heart should subside.
+
+At last Lucia rose and stole out of the room. She went to her own, and
+lay down on her bed still crying, though she could hardly tell why. Her
+trouble about the letter still haunted and worried her, and her spirit
+was so broken that she was like a sick child, neither able nor anxious
+to command herself.
+
+Meanwhile the lamp had been brought into the sitting-room, and the two
+elder people had recommenced their conversation. It was of a less
+agitating kind now, but the subject was not very different, and both
+were deeply interested, so that time passed on quickly, and the evening
+was gone before they were aware. When Father Paul rose to go, he said,
+"Madam, I thank you for all you have told me. Your secret is safe with
+me; but I beg your permission to share the rest of your intelligence
+with one of my brothers--the only survivor except myself of that
+mission. If you will permit me, I shall visit you again--I should like
+much to make friends with mademoiselle, your daughter. She recalls to
+me strongly the features of my once greatly loved pupil."
+
+With this little speech he departed, and left Mrs. Costello to wonder
+over this last page in her husband's history. Only a year ago how little
+would she have believed it possible that a man respectable, nay,
+venerable, as this old priest, would have thought kindly of Lucia for
+her father's sake!
+
+After a little while she got up and went to look for her daughter. She
+found her sitting at a window, looking forlornly out at the lights and
+movements in the place, and not very ready to meet the lamplight when
+she came back into the sitting-room. Still, however, she heard nothing
+of the letter, nor even when she bade her mother good night and lingered
+a little at the very last, hoping for one word, even though it might be
+a reproach, to tell her that it was from Maurice.
+
+She had to go to her room disconsolate. She heard Mrs. Costello go to
+hers, and close the door.
+
+'Now,' she thought, 'it will be opened. It cannot be from _him_, or
+mamma could not have waited so long. But I don't know; she has such
+self-command! I used to fancy I could be patient at great need--and I am
+not one bit.'
+
+However, as waiting and listening for every sound brought her no nearer
+to the obtaining of her wishes, she undressed and lay down, and began to
+try to imagine what the letter could be. Gradually, from thinking, she
+fell into dreaming, and dropped into a doze.
+
+But before she was sound asleep, the door opened, and Mrs. Costello
+shading her candle with her hand, came into the room. Lucia had been so
+excited that the smallest movement was sufficient to awake her. She
+started up and said, "What is it mamma?" in a frightened voice.
+
+"It is late," Mrs. Costello said. "Quite time you were asleep, but I am
+glad you are not. Lie down. I shall sit here for a few minutes and tell
+you what I want to say."
+
+Lucia obeyed. She saw that her mother had a paper in her hand--no doubt
+the letter. Now she should hear.
+
+"I had a letter to-night," her mother went on. "I dare say you wondered
+I did not open it at once. The truth was, I saw that it was in Mr.
+Leigh's writing, and I had reason to feel a little anxious as to what he
+might say."
+
+"Yes, mamma."
+
+Lucia could say no more; but she waited eagerly for the news that must
+be coming--news of Maurice.
+
+"I shall give you the letter to read. Bring it back to me in the
+morning; but before you do so, think well what you will do. I would
+never ask you to be untrue to yourself in such a matter; but I entreat
+you to see that you do know your own mind, and to use your power of
+saying yes or no, if you should ever have it, not like a foolish girl,
+but like a woman, who must abide all her life by the consequences of her
+decision."
+
+Mrs. Costello kissed her daughter's forehead, lighted the candle which
+stood on a small table, and leaving the letter beside it, went softly
+away.
+
+The moment the door closed, Lucia eagerly stretched out her arm and took
+the letter. Her hands trembled; the light seemed dim; and Mr. Leigh's
+cramped old-fashioned handwriting was more illegible than ever; but she
+read eagerly, devouring the words.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Costello,--You may think, perhaps, that I ought not to
+interfere in a matter in which I have not been consulted; but you know
+that to us, who have in all the world nothing to care for but one only
+child, that child's affairs are apt to be much the same as our own.
+
+"Maurice told me, just before we left Canada, what I might have been
+certain of long before if I had not been a stupid old man--that it was
+the hope of his life to marry your Lucia. He went to Paris, certainly,
+with the intention of asking her to marry him; and he came back quite
+unexpectedly, and looking ten years older--so changed, not only in
+looks, but in all his ways of speaking and acting, that it was clear to
+me some great misfortune had happened. Still he said very little to me,
+and it appears incredible that Lucia can have refused him. Perhaps that
+seems an arrogant speech for his father to make--but you will understand
+that I mean if she knew how constantly faithful he has been to her ever
+since they were both children;--and if she has done so in some momentary
+displeasure with him (for you know they used to have little quarrels
+sometimes), or if they have parted in anger, I beg of you, dear Mrs.
+Costello, for the sake of his mother, to try to put things right between
+them.
+
+"I must tell you plainly that I am writing without my son's knowledge. I
+would very much rather he should never know I have written; but I have
+been urged to do it by some things that have happened lately.
+
+"Some time ago Maurice, speaking to me of Mr. Beresford's will, told me
+that there had been a little difficulty in tracing one of the persons
+named as legatees. This was a cousin of Mr. Beresford's, with whom he
+seems to have had very little acquaintance, and no recent intercourse
+whatever; although, except Lady Dighton, she was the nearest relative he
+had. The lawyers discovered, while Maurice was in Canada, that this lady
+herself was dead. Her marriage had been unfortunate, and she had a
+spendthrift son, to whom, as his mother's heir, the money left by Mr.
+Beresford passed; but it appeared that she had also a daughter, who was
+in unhappy circumstances, being dependent on some relation of her
+father. Maurice, very naturally and properly, thought that, as head of
+the family, it was his duty to arrange something for this lady's
+comfort; and accordingly, being in London, where she lives, he called on
+her. She has since then been in this neighbourhood, and I have seen her
+several times. She is a young lady of agreeable appearance and manners,
+and seems qualified to become popular, if she were in a position to do
+so. I should not have thought of this, however, if it had not been for a
+few words Maurice said to me one day. I asked him some question about
+marrying, hoping to hear some allusion to Lucia, but he said very
+gravely that he should certainly marry some time; he had promised his
+grandfather to do so. Then he said suddenly, 'What would you think of
+Emma Landor for a daughter-in-law?' 'Emma Landor?' I answered; 'what has
+put her into your head?' 'Just this, sir,' he said; 'if I am to marry as
+a duty, I had better find somebody to whom I shall do some good, and not
+all evil, by marrying them. Emma would enjoy being mistress here; she
+would do it well, too; and having Hunsdon, she would not miss anything
+else that might be wanting.' With that he went out of the room; and
+after awhile I persuaded myself that he meant nothing serious by what he
+had said. However, Lady Dighton has spoken to me of the same thing
+since. Both she and I are convinced now that Maurice thinks--you may be,
+better then we are, able to understand why--that he has lost Lucia, and
+that, therefore, a marriage of convenience is all that he can hope for.
+Perhaps I am mistaken, or, at all events, too soon alarmed; but the
+mere idea of his proposing to this young lady throws me into a panic. If
+she should accept him (and Lady Dighton thinks she probably would), it
+would be a life-long misery. I am old-fashioned enough to think it would
+be a sin. He will not do it yet; perhaps he may see you again before he
+does. Do, I entreat of you, use the great influence you have always had
+with him to set things right. I have written a very long letter, because
+I could not ask your help without explaining; but I trust to your
+kindness to sympathize with my anxiety. Kindest regards to Lucia."
+
+Lucia put down the paper. The whole letter, slowly and painfully
+deciphered, seemed to make no impression on her brain. She lay still,
+with a sort of stunned feeling, till the sense of what she had read came
+to her fully.
+
+"Oh, Maurice!" she cried under her breath, "I want you! Come back to me!
+She shall never have you! You belong to me!" She covered her face with
+her hands, ashamed of even hearing her own words; then she got up and
+went across to her window, and looked out at the light burning on the
+tower--the light which shone far across the sea towards England. But
+presently she came back, and reached her little desk--Maurice's gift
+long ago--and knelt down on the floor, and wrote, kneeling,--
+
+
+
+    "Dear Maurice, you promised that if ever I wanted you, you would
+    come. I want you now more than ever I did in my life. Please, please
+    come.
+                                   "LUCIA."
+
+
+
+Then she leaned her head down till it almost touched the paper, and
+stayed so for a few minutes before she got up from her knees and
+extinguished her candle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+In the morning, when Lucia woke, her note to Maurice lay on the open
+desk, where she had left it, and was the first thing to remind her of
+what she had heard and done. She went and took it up to destroy it, but
+laid it down again irresolutely.
+
+"I do want him," she said to herself. "Without any nonsense, I ought to
+see him again before he does anything. I ought to tell him I am sorry
+for being so cross and ungrateful; and if he were married, or even
+engaged, I could not do it; it would be like confessing to a stranger."
+
+There was something very like a sob, making her throat swell as she
+considered. He would perhaps see them again, Mr. Leigh said. Ought she
+to trust to that chance? But then her courage might fail if he came
+over just like any ordinary visitor; and her young cousins from Chester
+were coming; and if they should be there, it would be another hindrance.
+"And, oh! I must see him again," she said, "and find out whether we are
+not to be brother and sister any more."
+
+She said "brother and sister" still, as she had done long ago; but she
+knew very well in her heart now, that _that_ had never been the
+relationship Maurice desired. And so she tore her note into little bits,
+and remained helpless, but rebelling against her helplessness. In this
+humour she went to her mother's room.
+
+Mrs. Costello was not yet up. Lucia knelt down by the bedside, and laid
+Mr. Leigh's letter beside her.
+
+"Mamma, I am very sorry," she said; "I think Mr. Leigh must have been
+very unhappy before he would write to you so."
+
+"I agree with you. He is not a man to take fright without cause,
+either."
+
+"Why do you say, 'to take fright?'"
+
+"Why do I say so? Are you such a child still, that you cannot understand
+a man like Maurice, always so tender towards women--Quixotically so,
+indeed--making himself believe that he is doing quite right in marrying
+a poor girl in Miss Landor's position, when, in fact, he is doing a
+great wrong? It is a double wrong to her and to himself; and one for
+which he would be certain to suffer, whether she did or not. And, Lucia
+I must say it, whatever evil may come of it, now or in the future, is
+our fault."
+
+"Oh, mamma! mamma, don't say 'our'--say 'your'--if it is mine--for
+certainly it is not yours."
+
+"I will say your fault, then; I believe you feel it so."
+
+"But, mamma, really and truly, is it anybody's fault? Don't people often
+love those who can't care for them in return?"
+
+"Really and truly, quite honestly and frankly, Lucia, was that the case
+with you?"
+
+Lucia's eyes fell. She could not say yes.
+
+"I will tell you," Mrs. Costello went on, "what I believe to be the
+truth, and you can set me right if I am wrong. You knew that Maurice had
+always been fond of you--devoted to you, in a way that had come by use
+to seem natural; and it had never entered your mind to think either how
+much of your regard he deserved, or how much he really had. I will not
+say anything about Percy; but I do believe," and she spoke very
+deliberately, laying her hand on Lucia's, "that since Maurice went away,
+you have been finding out that you had made a mistake, and that your
+heart had not been wrong nearly so much as your imagination."
+
+Lucia was still silent. If she had spoken at all, it must have been to
+confess that her mother was right, and that was not easy to do. Whatever
+suspicions she might have in her own heart, it was a mortifying thing to
+be told plainly that her love for Percy was a mistake--a mere
+counterfeit--instead of the enduring devotion which it ought to have
+been. But she was very much humbled now, and patiently waited for what
+her mother might say next.
+
+"Well!" Mrs. Costello began again, "it is no use now to go on talking of
+the past. The question is rather whether anything can be done for the
+future. What do you say?"
+
+"What can I say, mamma? What can I do?"
+
+"I don't know. Maurice used to tell me of his plans, but he is not
+likely to do that now. I would write and ask him to come over, but it is
+more than doubtful whether he would come."
+
+"He promised that if ever I wanted him he would come," Lucia said,
+hesitating.
+
+"If you were in need of him I am sure he would, but it would be a kind
+of impertinence to send for him on that plea when it was not really for
+that."
+
+"But it _is_. Mamma, don't be angry with me again! Don't be disgusted
+with me; but I want, so badly, to see him and tell him I behaved
+wrongly. I was so cross, so ungrateful, so _horrid_, mamma, that it was
+enough to make him think all girls bad. I should _like_ to tell him how
+sorry I am; I feel as if I should never be happy till I did."
+
+When, after this outbreak, Lucia's face went down upon her hands, Mrs.
+Costello could not resist a little self-gratulatory smile. 'All may come
+right yet,' she thought to herself, 'if that wilful boy will only come
+over.'
+
+"I think you are right," she said aloud. "Possibly he may come over, and
+then you will have an opportunity of speaking to him, perhaps."
+
+"Yes," Lucia said, very slowly, thinking of her note, and of the comfort
+it would have been if she _could_ but have sent it. "Oh, mamma, if we
+were but in England!"
+
+"Useless wishes, dear. Give me your advice about writing to Mr. Leigh."
+
+"You will write, will you not?"
+
+"I suppose I must. Yet it is a difficult letter for me to answer."
+
+"Could not you just say 'I will do what I can?'"
+
+"Which is absolutely nothing--unless Maurice should really pay us a
+visit here, a thing not likely at present."
+
+So the conversation ended without any satisfaction to Lucia. Nay, all
+her previous days had been happy compared to this one. She was devoured
+now, by a restless, jealous curiosity about that Miss Landor whom Mr.
+Leigh feared--she constantly found her thoughts reverting to this
+subject, however she might try to occupy them with others, and the
+tumult of her mind reacted upon her nerves. She could scarcely bear to
+sit still. It rained all afternoon and evening, and she could not go
+out, so that in the usual course of events she would have read aloud to
+her mother part of the time, and for the other part sat by the window
+with her crochet in her hand, but to-day she wandered about perpetually.
+She even opened the piano and began to sing her merriest old songs, but
+that soon ceased. She found the novel they were reading insufferably
+stupid, and took up a volume of Shakespeare for refreshment, but it
+opened naturally to the 'Merchant of Venice,' and, to the page where
+Portia says:--
+
+              "Though for myself alone,
+  I would not be ambitious in my wish,
+  To wish myself much better, yet for you
+  I would be trebled twenty times myself;
+  A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
+  That only to stand high on your account,
+  I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
+  Exceed account."
+
+She shut the book--yes, this was a true woman, who for true love thought
+herself and all she possessed too little to give in return; but for the
+little, foolish, blind souls that could not see till too late, what
+_was_ true love, she was no fit company.
+
+The evening passed on wearily, and Mrs. Costello, who had her own share
+of disquiet also, though it was mixed with a little amusement at the
+impetuosity of these young people, who were so dear to her and so
+troublesome, did very little in the way of consolation.
+
+Next day, the weather had cleared again, and was very lovely. In the
+afternoon, Lucia persuaded Mrs. Costello to go with her to the beach.
+There they got chairs, and sat for a long while enjoying the gay, and
+often comical, scene round them. Numbers of people were bathing, and
+beside the orthodox bathers, there was a party of little boys wading
+about with bare legs, and playing all sorts of pranks in the water.
+
+A little way to the left of where they sat, there was a curious kind of
+wooden pier, which ran far away out into the sea and terminated in a
+small square wooden building. The whole thing was raised on piles about
+five or six feet above the present level of the water which flowed
+underneath it. The pier itself, in fact, was only a narrow bridge or
+footpath railed partly on one side only, partly on both, and with an
+oddly unsafe and yet tempting look about it. Lucia had been attracted by
+it before, and she drew her mother's attention to it now--
+
+"Look, mamma," she said, "does not it seem as if one could almost cross
+the Channel on it, it goes so far out. See that woman, now--I have
+watched since she started from this end, and now you can scarcely
+distinguish her figure."
+
+"There is a priest coming along it--is it not Father Paul?"
+
+"I do believe it is. I wish he would come and talk to you for a little
+while, and then I would go."
+
+"You need not stay for that, dear. I shall sit here alone quite
+comfortably, if you wish to go out there."
+
+"I should like very much to go. I want to see what the sea looks like
+away from the beach. There is no harm, is there?"
+
+"None whatever. Go, and I will watch you."
+
+Lucia rose to go.
+
+"It _is_ Father Paul," she said, "and he is coming this way."
+
+She lingered a minute, and the priest, who had recognized them, came up.
+
+Mrs. Costello told him of Lucia's wish to go out on the pier, and he
+assured her she would enjoy it.
+
+"The air seems even fresher there than here," he said; and she went off,
+and left him and her mother together.
+
+For a few minutes they talked about the weather, the sea, and the people
+about them, as two slight acquaintances would naturally do; but then,
+when there had been a momentary pause, Father Paul startled Mrs.
+Costello, by saying,
+
+"Last night, madam, you told me of persons I had not heard of for
+years--this morning, strangely enough, I have met with a person of whom
+you probably know something--or knew something formerly."
+
+"I?" she answered. "Impossible! I know no one in France."
+
+"This is not a Frenchman. He is named Bailey, an American, I believe."
+
+"Bailey?" Mrs. Costello repeated, terrified. "Surely he is not here?"
+
+"There is a man of that name here--a miserable ruined gambler, who says
+that he knows Moose Island, and once travelled in Europe with a party of
+Indians."
+
+"And what is he doing now?"
+
+"Nothing. He is the most wretched, squalid object you can imagine. He
+came to me this morning to ask for the loan of a few francs. He had not
+even the honesty to beg without some pretence of an intention to pay."
+
+"Is he so low then as to need to beg?"
+
+"Madame, he is a gambler, I repeat it. If he had a hundred francs
+to-night, he would most likely be penniless to-morrow morning."
+
+"And he claimed charity from you because of your connection with
+Canada?"
+
+"Exactly. Having no other plea. I was right, madame: you know this man?"
+
+"He was my bitterest enemy!" she answered, half rising in her vehemence.
+"But for him I might have had a happy life."
+
+Father Paul looked shocked.
+
+"Forgive me," he said, in a troubled voice, "I am grieved to have spoken
+of him."
+
+"On the contrary, I am thankful you did so. If I had met him by chance
+in the street, I believe he could not change so much that I should not
+know him, and he--"
+
+She stopped, then asked abruptly,
+
+"You did not mention me?"
+
+"Most assuredly not."
+
+"Yet he might recognise me. What shall I do?"
+
+She was speaking to herself, and not to her companion now, and she
+looked impatiently towards the pier where Lucia was slowly coming back.
+
+Presently she recovered herself a little, and asked a few more
+questions about Bailey. She gathered from the answers that he had been
+some time at Bourg-Cailloux, getting gradually more poverty-stricken and
+utterly disreputable. That he was now wandering about without a home, or
+money even for gambling. She knew enough of the man to be certain that
+under such circumstances he would snatch at any means of obtaining
+money, and what means easier, if he only knew it, than to threaten and
+persecute her. And at any moment he might discover her--her very
+acquaintance with Father Paul might betray her to him. She cast a
+terrified look over all the groups of people on the beach, half
+expecting to see the well-remembered features of Bailey among them; but
+he was not there. Close by her, however, stood Lucia, and at a little
+distance the carriage, which had been ordered to fetch them, was just
+drawing up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Mrs. Costello said nothing to Lucia on their way home about Bailey. She
+sat in her corner of the carriage, leaning back and thinking
+despairingly what to do. Her spirits had so far given way with her
+failing health that she no longer felt the courage necessary to face
+annoyance. And it was plainly to be feared that in case this man
+discovered her, he would have no scruples, being so needy and degraded,
+about using every means in his power to extort money from her.
+Undoubtedly he had such means--he had but to tell her story, as he
+_could_ tell it, and not only her own life, but Lucia's, would be made
+wretched; the separation from Maurice, which she was beginning to hope
+might be only temporary, would become irrevocable--and, what seemed to
+her still more terrible, there would be perpetual demands from her
+enemy, and the misery of perpetual contact with him. To buy off such a
+man, at once and finally, was, she knew, utterly beyond her power--what
+then could she do?
+
+When they were at home, and the door of their sitting-room safely
+closed, she turned anxiously to Lucia,
+
+"Bailey is here," she said.
+
+"Bailey?" Lucia repeated--she had forgotten the name.
+
+"The man who was present at my marriage--the American."
+
+"Mamma! How do you know?"
+
+"Father Paul told me just now."
+
+"How did he know?"
+
+"The wretched man had gone to him begging, and he mentioned him to me by
+chance, thinking I might know something about him."
+
+"But surely he would not remember you?"
+
+"I think he would. If by any accident he met you and me together, I am
+certain he would."
+
+"Ah! I am so like my father."
+
+"Lucia, I _dare_ not meet him. I believe the very sight of him would
+kill me."
+
+"Let us go away, mamma. He knows nothing about us yet. We might start
+to-morrow."
+
+"Where should we go? Even at our own door we might meet him, at the
+railway station--anywhere. No, it is only inside these walls we are
+safe, and scarcely here."
+
+Mrs. Costello was literally trembling, the panic which had seized her
+was so great; Lucia, not fully understanding yet, could not help being
+infected by her terror.
+
+"But, mamma, we cannot shut ourselves up in these rooms. That, with the
+constant fear added to it, would soon make you ill again."
+
+"What can we do?" Mrs. Costello repeated helplessly. "If, indeed, we
+could start to-night, and go south, or go out of France altogether. But
+I have not even money in the house for our journey."
+
+"And if you had, you have not strength for it. Would not it be well to
+consult Mr. Wynter? If we had any friend here who would make the
+arrangement for us, I don't see why we should not be able to go away
+without any fear of meeting this man."
+
+"No; that would not do. To consult George would just be opening up again
+all that was most painful--it would be almost as bad as meeting Bailey
+himself."
+
+"And we could not be stopped even if we did meet Bailey. Let me go
+alone, mamma, and do what is to be done--it is not much. If I meet him I
+shall not know it, and seeing me alone, the likeness cannot be so strong
+as to make him recognize me all at once."
+
+"But he might see us together when we start from here; and he might
+trace us. He would know at once that he could get money from me, and for
+money he would do anything."
+
+She leaned back, and was silent a minute.
+
+"We must keep closely shut up for a little while, till I can decide what
+to do. I wish Maurice would come."
+
+Lucia looked up eagerly. It was her own thought, though she had not
+dared to say it. Maurice could always find the way out of a difficulty.
+
+"Mamma," she said anxiously, but with some hesitation, "I think this is
+need--the kind of need Maurice meant."
+
+"Need, truly. But I do not know--"
+
+"He would be glad to help you. And he knows all about us."
+
+"Yes, I should not have to make long explanations to him."
+
+Just then there was a knock at the door. Both started violently. Absurd
+as it was, they both expected to see Bailey himself enter. Instead, they
+saw Madame Everaert, her round face flushed with walking and her hands
+full of flowers.
+
+"For mademoiselle," she said, laying them down on the table, and nodding
+and smiling good humouredly. "I have been to Rosendahl to see my
+goddaughter there, and she has a magnificent garden, so I brought a few
+flowers for mademoiselle."
+
+Lucia thanked her, and admired the flowers, and she went away without
+suspecting the fright her visit had caused.
+
+"Get your desk, Lucia," Mrs. Costello said, gasping for breath, and
+almost exhausted by the terrible beating of her heart, "and write a note
+for me."
+
+The desk was brought and opened.
+
+"Is it to Maurice?" Lucia asked.
+
+"Yes. Say that we are in great need of a friend."
+
+Lucia began. She found it much more difficult than she had done the
+other night, when she wrote those few impetuous lines which had been
+afterwards torn up.
+
+
+
+    "Dear Maurice," she said, "mamma tells me to write to you, and say
+    that something has happened which has frightened her very much, and
+    that we are in great need of a friend. Will you keep your promise,
+    and come to us?"
+
+
+
+This was what she showed to her mother. When Mrs. Costello had approved
+of it, she wrote a few words more.
+
+
+
+    "I want to ask you to forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I am so
+    unhappy.
+
+                      "Yours affectionately,
+                                         "LUCIA."
+
+
+
+She hesitated a little how to sign herself, but finally wrote just what
+she had been accustomed to put to all her little notes written to
+Maurice during his absences from Cacouna in the old days.
+
+When the letter had been sealed and sent off by Madame Everaert's
+servant to the post-office, they began to feel that all they could do
+for the present was done. Mrs. Costello lay still on her sofa, without
+having strength or energy to talk, and Lucia took her never-finished
+crochet, and sat in her old place by the window.
+
+But very soon it grew too dark to work. The Place was lighted, and alive
+with people passing to and fro. The windows of the guard house opposite
+were brilliant, and from those of a cafe on the same side as Madame
+Everaert's there shone out, half across the square, a broad line of
+light. In this way, at two places, the figures of those who moved about
+the pavement on each side of the Place, were very plainly visible; even
+the faces of some could be distinguished. Lucia watched these people
+to-night with a new interest. Every time the strong glare fell upon a
+shabby slouching figure, or on a poorly dressed man who wanted the air
+of being a Frenchman, she thought, "Is that Bailey?" When the lamp came
+in, Mrs. Costello had fallen asleep, so Lucia turned it down low, and
+still sat at the window. The light on the tower shone out clear and
+bright--above it the stars looked pale, but the sky was perfectly
+serene. Maurice, if he came soon, had every prospect of a fair passage.
+"And he will come," she thought to herself, "even if he is really too
+much vexed with me to forgive me, he will come for mamma's sake."
+
+All next day they both kept indoors. Lucia tried to persuade her mother
+to drive out into the country, but even for this Mrs. Costello had not
+courage. At the same time she seemed to be losing all sense of security
+in the house. She fancied she had not sufficiently impressed on Father
+Paul the importance of not betraying her in any way to Bailey. She
+wished to write and remind him of this, but she dared not lest her note
+should fall into wrong hands. Then she thought of asking him to visit
+her, but hesitated also about that till it was too late. In short, was
+in a perfectly unreasonable and incapable condition--fear had taken such
+hold of her in her weak state of health that Lucia began to think it
+would end in nervous fever. With her the dread of Bailey began to be
+quite lost in apprehension for her mother, and her own affairs had to
+be put altogether on one side to make room for these new anxieties.
+
+In the afternoon of that day Mrs. Costello suddenly roused herself from
+a fit of thought.
+
+"We must go somewhere," she said. "That is certain, whatever else is. As
+soon as Maurice comes we ought to be prepared to start. Do go, Lucia,
+and see if there is any packing you can do--without attracting
+attention, you know."
+
+"But, mamma," Lucia objected, "Maurice cannot be here to-day, nor even,
+I believe, to-morrow, at the very soonest, and I will soon do what there
+is to do."
+
+"There is a great deal. And I can't help you, my poor child. And there
+ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay."
+
+Lucia had to yield. She began to pack as if all their arrangements were
+made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their
+wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about
+them of their intended departure.
+
+Another restless night passed, and another day began. There was the
+faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as
+soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night.
+
+It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at
+some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter
+might not reach him till this very morning. Yet, since he _might_ come,
+they must do all they could to be ready. The day was very hot. All the
+windows were open, and the shutters closed; a drowsy heat and stillness
+filled the rooms. Mrs. Costello walked about perpetually. She had tried
+to help Lucia, but had been obliged to leave off and content herself
+with gathering up, here and there, the things that were in daily use,
+and bringing them to Lucia to put away. They said very little to each
+other. Mrs. Costello could think of nothing but Bailey, and she did not
+dare to talk about him from some fanciful fear of being overheard. Lucia
+thought of her mother's health and of Maurice, and Mrs. Costello had no
+attention to spare for either.
+
+Suddenly, sounding very loud in the stillness, there came the roll of a
+carriage over the rough stones of the Place. It stopped; there was a
+moment's pause, and then a hasty ring at the door-bell. Both mother and
+daughter paused and listened. There was a quick movement downstairs--a
+foot which was swifter and lighter than Madame Everaert's on the
+staircase--and Maurice at the sitting-room door.
+
+Mrs. Costello went forward from the doorway where she had been arrested
+by the sound of his coming; Lucia, kneeling before a trunk in the
+adjoining room, saw him standing there, and sprang to her feet; he came
+in glad, eager, impatient to know what they wanted of him; and before
+any of them had time to think about it, this meeting, so much desired
+and dreaded, was over.
+
+"But how could you come so soon?" Mrs. Costello asked. "We did not
+expect you till to-morrow."
+
+"By the greatest chance. I had been in town for two days. Our station
+and post-office are at the same place. When they met me at the station,
+they brought me letters which had just arrived, and yours was among
+them. So I was able to catch the next train back to London, instead of
+going home."
+
+"And which way did you come? The boat is not in yet?"
+
+"By Calais. It was quicker. Now tell me what has happened."
+
+Mrs. Costello looked carefully to see that the door was shut. Then she
+told Maurice who and what she feared, and how she could not even leave
+Bourg-Cailloux without help.
+
+"Yet, I think I ought to leave," she said.
+
+"Of course you ought," Maurice answered. "You must go to England."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+"You must go to England," Maurice said decidedly. "It is an easy
+journey, and you would be quite safe there."
+
+"But I ought not to go to England," Mrs. Costello answered rather
+uncertainly. "And Bailey might follow us there."
+
+"I doubt that. By what you say, too, if he were in England, we might
+perhaps set the police to watch him, which would prevent his annoying
+you. However, the thing to do is to carry you off before he has any idea
+you are in Europe at all."
+
+Lucia stayed long enough to see that the mere presence of Maurice
+inspired her mother with fresh courage; then she went back to her
+packing, leaving the door ajar that she might hear their voices. She
+went on with her work in a strange tumult and confusion. Not a word
+beyond the first greetings had passed between Maurice and herself, but
+she could not help feeling as if their positions were somehow
+changed--and not for the worse.
+
+There had been no words; but just for one second Maurice had held her
+hand and looked at her very earnestly; whereupon she had felt her cheeks
+grow very hot, and her eyes go down to the ground as if she were making
+some confession.
+
+After that he released her, and she went about her occupations. She
+began to wonder now whether she would have to tell him how sorry she
+was, or whether enough had been said; and to incline to the last
+opinion.
+
+Meanwhile she went on busily. In about half an hour she heard Maurice go
+out, and then Mrs. Costello came to her.
+
+"He is gone to make inquiries," she said; "you know there is a boat
+to-night, but then we may not be able to get berths."
+
+"To-night, mamma, for England?"
+
+Mrs. Costello looked a little displeased at Lucia's surprise, "To be
+sure," she said; "why, my dear child, you yourself thought England
+would be the best place."
+
+"I did _think_ so certainly, but I did not know I had said it."
+
+"Well, can we be ready?"
+
+"I can finish packing in an hour, but there is Madame Everaert to
+arrange with."
+
+"We must wait till Maurice comes back before doing that."
+
+"I suppose we must; mamma, will you please go and lie down? Otherwise
+you will not be able to go."
+
+Mrs. Costello smiled. She felt able for any exertion to escape from her
+enemy under Maurice's guidance. However, she did as her daughter wished,
+and lay quietly waiting for his coming back.
+
+Lucia heard his steps first, notwithstanding. She had her last trunk
+just ready for locking, and went into the sitting-room to hear the
+decision, with her hair a little disordered and a bright flush of
+excitement and fatigue on her cheeks.
+
+"Are we to go?" she said quickly.
+
+"I think you should if you can," he answered her. "But can you be
+ready?"
+
+"By what time?"
+
+"Nine o'clock."
+
+"Everything is packed. Half an hour is all we really need now."
+
+"Three hours to spare then. Everything is in our favour. It is not a bad
+boat, and there is room for us on board."
+
+"Have you taken berths then?" Mrs. Costello asked.
+
+"Yes. And I will tell you why I did so without waiting to consult you. I
+made some inquiries about this fellow Bailey, and found out that it
+would most likely not suit him to go to England for some time to come."
+
+"You inquired about him? Good heavens, what a risk!"
+
+"You forget, dear Mrs. Costello, that I was meant for a lawyer. Don't be
+afraid. He has no more thought of you than of the Khan of Tartary."
+
+"If you only knew the comfort it is having you, Maurice; I was quite
+helpless, quite upset by this last terror."
+
+"But you had been ill, mamma," Lucia interposed. "It was no wonder you
+were upset."
+
+"That is not kind, Lucia," Maurice said, turning to her with a half
+smile. "Mrs. Costello wishes to make me believe she depends on me, and
+you try to take away the flattering impression."
+
+"Oh! no; I did not mean that. Mamma knows--" but there she got into
+confusion and stopped.
+
+"Well," Mrs. Costello said, "we had better send for Madame Everaert, and
+tell her we are going."
+
+Madame came. She was desolated, but had nothing to say against the
+departure of her lodgers, and, as Lucia had told Maurice, half an hour
+was enough for the settling of their last affairs at Bourg-Cailloux.
+
+Mrs. Costello did not wish to go on board the boat till near the hour
+named for sailing; it was well, too, that she should have as much rest
+as possible before her journey. She kept on her sofa, therefore, where
+so large a portion of her time lately had been spent; and Lucia, from
+habit, took her seat by the window.
+
+Then in the quiet twilight arose the question, "Where are we to go when
+we reach England?"
+
+"Where?" Maurice said, "why, to Hunsdon, of course. My father will be so
+pleased--and Louisa will come rushing over in ecstasies the moment she
+hears."
+
+"That might be all very well," Mrs. Costello said, "if we were only
+coming to England as visitors, but since we are not, I shall wish to
+find a place were we can settle as quickly as possible. I should
+certainly like it to be within reach of Hunsdon, if we can manage it."
+
+"Come to Hunsdon first, at any rate, and look out."
+
+"I think not, Maurice. We might stay in London for a week or two."
+
+"Well, if you _prefer_ it. But, at all events, I know perfectly well
+that one week of London will be as much as either of you can bear. When
+you have had that, I shall try again to persuade you."
+
+While they talked, Lucia sat looking out. For the last time she saw the
+Place grow dusky, and then flame out with gas--for the last time she
+watched the lighting of the beacon, and wondered how far on their way
+they would be able to see it still.
+
+Eight o'clock struck; then a quarter past, and it was time to go.
+
+The boat lay in the dock. On board, a faint light gleamed out from the
+cabin-door, but everything on shore was dark. Passengers were arriving
+each moment, and their luggage stood piled up ready to be embarked.
+Sailors were talking or shouting to each other in English and French;
+the cargo of fruit and vegetables was still being stowed away, and
+people were running against other people in the darkness, and trying
+vainly to discover their own trunks on the deck, or their own berths in
+the cabin. Into the midst of all this confusion Maurice brought his
+charges; but as he had been on board in the afternoon, he knew where to
+take them, and they found their own quarters without difficulty. While
+he saw to their packages, they made their arrangements for the night.
+
+"I shall lie down at once," Mrs. Costello said. "It is not uncomfortable
+here, and I think it is always best."
+
+"But it is so early, and on deck the air is so pleasant. Should you mind
+my leaving you for a little while?"
+
+"Not at all. There is no reason why you should stay down here if you
+dislike it. Maurice will take care of you."
+
+But Lucia had no intention of waiting for Maurice. She saw her mother
+comfortably settled, and then stole up alone to the deck. The boat had
+not yet started; it seemed to lie in the very shadow of the quaint old
+town, and Lucia could trace the outline of the buildings against the
+starry sky.
+
+She felt a little soft sensation of regret at saying good-bye to this
+last corner of France. 'And yet,' she thought, 'I have been very unhappy
+here. I wonder if England will be happier?'
+
+She stood leaning against the bulwarks, looking now at the town, now at
+the dark glimmer of the water below, and, to tell the truth, beginning
+to wonder where Maurice was. While she wondered, he came up to her and
+spoke.
+
+"Lucia, it _is_ you then? I thought you would not be able to stay
+below."
+
+"No. It is so hot. Here the night is lovely."
+
+"The deck is tolerably clear now. Come and walk up and down a
+little--unless you are tired?"
+
+"I am tired, but to walk will rest me."
+
+As she turned he took her hand and put it through his arm. For a minute
+they were silent.
+
+"Two days ago, Lucia," Maurice said "I thought this was an
+impossibility."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Our being together--as we are now."
+
+"Did you? But you had promised to come if ever we were in trouble."
+
+"Yes. And I meant to keep my word. But I fancied you would never send
+for me."
+
+"You see," Lucia said, trying to speak lightly, "that we had no other
+friend to send for."
+
+"Is that so? Was that the only reason?"
+
+"Maurice!"
+
+"Tell me something, Lucia. Did you mean the last sentence of your note?"
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"You said you were unhappy."
+
+"Oh! yes, I was. _So_ unhappy--I was thinking of it just now."
+
+"And at present? Are you unhappy still?"
+
+"You know I am not."
+
+"I have been miserable, too, lately. Horribly miserable. I was ready to
+do I can't tell you what absurdities. Until your note came."
+
+He stopped a moment, but she had nothing to say.
+
+"It is a great comfort to have got so far," he went on, "but I suppose
+one is never satisfied. Now that I am not quite miserable, I should like
+to be quite happy."
+
+Lucia could not help laughing, though she did so a little nervously.
+
+"Don't be unreasonable," she said.
+
+"But I am. I must needs put it to the touch again. Lucia, you know what
+I want to say; can't you forget the past, and come home to Hunsdon and
+be my wife?"
+
+They stood still side by side, in the starry darkness and neither of
+them knew very well for a few minutes what they said. Only Maurice
+understood that the object of his life was gained; and Lucia felt that
+from henceforth, for ever, she would never be perverse, or passionate,
+or wilful again, for Maurice had forgiven her, and loved her still.
+
+They never noticed that the boat was delayed beyond its time, and that
+other passengers chafed at the delay. They stayed on deck in the
+starlight, and said little to each other, but they both felt that a new
+life had begun--a life which seemed to be grafted on the old one before
+their troubles, and to have nothing to do with this last year. When
+Maurice was about to say good-night at the cabin door, he made the first
+allusion to what had brought them together.
+
+"I shall pension Bailey," he said. "His last good deed blots out all his
+misdoings."
+
+"What good deed?"
+
+"Frightening you."
+
+"He did not frighten me."
+
+"Frightening Mrs. Costello then. It comes to the same thing in the end.
+But why did not you send for your cousin, Mr. Wynter?"
+
+"Ask mamma."
+
+"I have something more interesting to ask her."
+
+Mrs. Costello knew tolerably well, when Lucia kissed her that night,
+what had happened. She said nothing audibly, but in her heart there was
+a _Nunc Dimittis_ sung thankfully; and in spite of the sea, she fell
+asleep over it. The night was as calm as it could be, and Maurice, who
+had no inclination for sleep or for the presence of the crowd below,
+spent most of it on deck. Towards morning he went down; but at seven
+o'clock, when Lucia peeped out, he was up again and waiting for her. She
+only gave him a little nod and smile, however, and then retreated, but
+presently came back with her mother.
+
+They got chairs and sat watching the coast, which was quickly coming
+nearer, and the vessels which they passed lying out in the still
+waters.
+
+"We shall be in in two hours," Maurice said, "though we were late
+starting. The captain says he has not had such a good run this year."
+
+"For which I am very thankful," Mrs. Costello answered.
+
+"What a mercy it is to have got away so easily; it was well we sent to
+you, Maurice."
+
+"Very well; the best thing that ever was done. Lucia and I agreed as to
+that last night."
+
+Lucia pouted the very least in the world, and her mother smiled.
+
+"It seems to me you took a long while to settle the question. I thought
+she was never coming."
+
+"Why, mamma? I came as soon as the boat started."
+
+"We have settled our differences," Maurice said, leaning down to speak
+quietly to Mrs. Costello. "Do you give us leave to make our own
+arrangements for the future?"
+
+"I think you are pretty sure of my leave."
+
+"Then we all go straight on to Hunsdon together?"
+
+"Are those your arrangements?"
+
+"Not mine, certainly," Lucia interposed. "I thought we were to stay in
+London."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Don't you see," Mrs. Costello asked, "that any little compact you two
+children may have made has nothing to do with the necessity of my
+finding a house for myself and my daughter--as long as she is only my
+daughter."
+
+Maurice had to give way a second time.
+
+"Very well then," he said. "At all events you can't forbid me to stay in
+London, too."
+
+"But I certainly shall. You may stay and see us settled, but after that
+you are to go home and attend to your own affairs."
+
+They reached London by noon, and before night they found, and took
+possession of, a lodging which Mrs. Costello said to herself would suit
+them very well until Lucia should be married; after which, of course,
+she would want to settle near Hunsdon. Maurice spent the evening with
+them, but was only allowed to do so on condition of leaving London for
+home next morning.
+
+As soon as they were at all settled, Mrs. Costello wrote to her cousin.
+She told him that she had had urgent reason for quitting France
+suddenly; that other causes had weighed with her in deciding to return
+to England, and that she was anxious to see and consult with him. She
+begged him, therefore, to come up to town and to bring one at least of
+his daughters with him on a visit to Lucia.
+
+When the letter had been sent off, she said to her daughter, "Suppose
+that we are penniless in consequence of our flight? What is to done
+then?"
+
+"Surely that cannot be?"
+
+"I do not know until I see my cousin. I think it must depend legally on
+the terms of your grandfather's will; but, in fact, I suppose George had
+the decision in his hands."
+
+After this they both looked anxiously for Mr. Wynter's answer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+But before Mr. Wynter had time to reply.--indeed, by the very first
+possible post--came a letter to Lucia, the sight of which made her very
+rosy. She had had plenty of letters from Maurice long ago, and never
+blushed over them as she did over this; but then this was so different.
+She did not even like to read it in her mother's presence. She just
+glanced at it there, and carried it off to devour in comfort alone. It
+was quite short, after all, for he had scarcely had ten minutes before
+the post hour; but it said--beside several things which were of no
+interest except to the reader--that he had found Lady Dighton at Hunsdon
+on his arrival, and had told her and his father together of his
+engagement; that his cousin was going to write and invite Mrs. Costello
+to Dighton; and that Mr. Leigh said, if they did not come down
+immediately, he should be obliged to start for London himself to tell
+them how pleased he was.
+
+"At any rate," Maurice concluded, "I shall be in town again on Saturday.
+I find I have business to see my lawyer about."
+
+All this--as well as the rest of the note--was very agreeable. Lucia
+went and sat down on a footstool at her mother's feet to tell her the
+news. Mrs. Costello laid her hand on her child's head and sighed softly.
+
+"You will have to give up this fashion of yours, darling," she said,
+"you must learn to be a woman now."
+
+Lucia laughed.
+
+"I don't believe I ever shall," she answered. "At least, not with you or
+with Maurice."
+
+"Would you like to go to Dighton?"
+
+She considered for a minute.
+
+"Yes, mamma, I think I should. You know how things are in those great
+houses; but I have never seen anything but Canada, and even there, just
+the country. I should not like, by-and-by, for people to laugh at
+Maurice, because I was only an ignorant country girl."
+
+She spoke very slowly and timidly; but Mrs. Costello began to think she
+was right. It would be as well that the future mistress of Hunsdon
+should have some little introduction to her new world, to prepare her
+for "by-and-by."
+
+Next day came two letters for Mrs. Costello, as well as one for Lucia.
+The first was from Lady Dighton full of congratulation, and pressing her
+invitation; the other, from Mr. Wynter, announced that he, his wife, and
+daughter, would be in London next evening. Next evening was Saturday,
+and Maurice also would be there, and would, of course spend Sunday with
+them; so that they had a prospect of plenty of guests.
+
+Maurice, however, arrived early in the day. He had established himself
+at a neighbouring hotel, and came in quite with the old air of being at
+home. He made a little grimace when he heard of the others who were
+expected, but contented himself by making the most of the hours before
+their train was due. He found an opportunity also of conveying to Mrs.
+Costello his conviction that Hunsdon was very much in want of a lady to
+make it comfortable, and that Lucia would be much better there than
+shut up in London. The fact that London was in its glory at that moment
+made no impression on him.
+
+"That is just it," he said, when this was suggested to him. "I want to
+get it settled and bring her back to enjoy herself here a little before
+the season is over."
+
+It seemed, indeed, pretty evident that the present state of things could
+not last long; there was no reason why it should, and nothing but the
+bride's preparations to delay the long-desired wedding.
+
+The Wynters came about nine o'clock. Mrs. Wynter instantly recognized
+Maurice. Her daughters had speculated enough about her mysterious
+visitor that winter night, to have prevented her forgetting him, if she
+would otherwise have done so, and the state of affairs at present was
+very soon evident as an explanation of the mystery. When the party
+separated for the night, Mrs. Costello and Mr. Wynter remained in the
+drawing-room for that consultation for which he had come, while his wife
+and daughter stayed together upstairs to talk over their new relations
+before going to bed.
+
+Mrs. Costello, as briefly as possible, made her cousin comprehend that
+she had been compelled to leave France, and had fled to England because
+it was the most accessible refuge.
+
+"I never meant to have come back," she said. "I have never allowed
+myself to think of it, because I could not disobey my father again."
+
+"I am glad you have come, to tell you the truth;" he answered. "I do not
+at all imagine that, in your present circumstances, my uncle would have
+wished to keep you away."
+
+Mrs. Costello looked relieved.
+
+"I am almost inclined to go further," he continued, "and to say that he
+must have anticipated your return."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because in his will he gives you your income unconditionally, and only
+expresses a wish that you should not come back."
+
+"Is it so really?"
+
+"Certainly. But you have a copy of the will."
+
+"It has not been unpacked since we came from Canada. I had made it so
+much my duty to obey the request that I had forgotten it had no
+condition attached to it."
+
+"It has none."
+
+"I am very glad; and you think he would have changed his mind now?"
+
+"I think so. Especially as it seems to me Lucia is likely to settle in
+England."
+
+"Yes, indeed. That was the second thing I wanted to speak to you about."
+
+"They are engaged, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; it has been the wish of my heart for years. Maurice is like a son
+to me."
+
+They discussed the matter in its more commonplace aspect. The wealth and
+position of the bridegroom elect were points as to which Mr. Wynter felt
+it his business to inquire, and when he found these so satisfactory, he
+congratulated his cousin with great cordiality, and plainly expressed
+his opinion that delays in such a case were useless and objectionable.
+He liked Lucia, and admired her, and thought, too, that there would be
+no better way of blotting out the remembrance of the mother's
+unfortunate marriage than by a prosperous one on the part of the
+daughter.
+
+Meantime Mrs. Wynter sat in an easy-chair by her dressing-table, and her
+daughter was curled up on the floor near her.
+
+"Well, mamma," Miss Wynter said, "you see I was right. I knew perfectly
+well that there must be some romance at the bottom of it all."
+
+"You were very wise, my dear."
+
+"And, mamma, if I had seen Lucia, I should have been still more sure.
+Why, she is perfectly lovely! I hope she will let me be her bridesmaid."
+
+"Tiny, you know I don't approve of your talking in that way."
+
+"What way, mamma? Of course, they are going to be married. Anybody can
+see that."
+
+"If they are, no doubt we shall hear in good time."
+
+"And I am sure, if either of us were to marry half as well, the whole
+house would be in a flutter. I mean to be very good friends with Lucia,
+and then, perhaps, she will invite me to go and see her. And I _must_ be
+her bridesmaid, because I am her nearest relation; and she can't have
+any friends in England, and I shall make her let me have a white dress
+with blue ribbons."
+
+Mrs. Wynter still reproved, but she smiled, too; and Tiny being a
+spoiled child, needed no greater encouragement. She stopped in her
+mother's room until she heard Mr. Wynter coming, when she fled,
+dishevelled, to her own, and dropped asleep, to dream of following Lucia
+up the aisle of an impossible church, dressed in white with ribbons of
+_bleu de ciel_.
+
+Lucia perhaps had said to herself also that she meant to be good friends
+with Tiny. At all events, the two girls did get on excellently together;
+before the week which the Wynters spent in London was at an end, they
+had discussed as much of Lucia's love story as she was disposed to tell,
+and arranged that Tiny and her sister should really officiate on that
+occasion to which everybody's thoughts were now beginning to be
+directed.
+
+Another week found the Costellos at Dighton. They meant to stay a
+fortnight or three weeks, and then to return to town until the marriage;
+but of this no one of their Norfolk friends would hear a word. Lady
+Dighton, Maurice, and Mr. Leigh had made up their minds that Lucia
+should not leave the county until she did so a bride; and they carried
+their point. The wedding-day was fixed; and Lucia found herself left, at
+last, almost without a voice in the decision of her own destiny.
+
+And yet, these last weeks of her girlhood were almost too happy. She
+went over several times with her mother and Lady Dighton to Hunsdon,
+and grew familiar with her future home; she saw the charming rooms that
+were being prepared for herself, and could sit down in the midst of all
+this new wealth and luxury, and talk with Maurice about the old times
+when they had no splendour, but little less happiness than now; and she
+had delicious hours of castle-building, sometimes alone, sometimes with
+her betrothed, which were pleasanter than any actual realization of
+their dreams could be.
+
+Of course, they had endless talks, in which they said the same things
+over and over again, or said nothing at all; but they knew each other so
+thoroughly now, and each was so completely acquainted with all the
+other's past that there was truly nothing for them to tell or to hear,
+except the one old story which is always new.
+
+One day, however, Maurice came over to Dighton in a great hurry, with a
+letter for Lucia to read. He took her out into the garden, and when they
+were quite alone he took it out and showed it to her.
+
+"What is it?" she said. "It looks like a French letter."
+
+"It is French. Do you remember your friend, Father Paul?"
+
+"Of course. Oh, Maurice! it cannot be about Bailey?"
+
+"Indeed, it is. But don't look frightened. I wrote to Father Paul, and
+this is his answer."
+
+"What made you write?"
+
+"Did not I say I would pension Bailey? _I_ don't forget my promises if
+other people do."
+
+"Surely, you were only joking?"
+
+"Very far from it, I assure you. Your good friend undertook to manage
+it, and he writes to me that my letter only arrived in time; that Bailey
+was ill, and quite dependent on charity, and that he is willing to
+administer the money I send in small doses suitable to the patient's
+condition."
+
+"But, Maurice, it is perfect nonsense. Why should you give money to that
+wretched man? _We_ might, indeed, do something for him."
+
+"Who are 'we?' You had better be careful at present how you use your
+personal pronouns."
+
+"I meant mamma and I might, of course."
+
+"I do not see the 'of course' at all. Mamma has nothing whatever to do
+with it--nor even you. This is simply a mark of gratitude to Mr. Bailey
+for a service he did me lately."
+
+Lucia let her hand rest a little less lightly on Maurice's arm.
+
+"And me too," she said softly.
+
+"Use your 'we' in its right sense, then, and _we_ will reward him. But
+not unless you are sure that you do not repent having been frightened."
+
+"Ah! you don't know how glad I was when mamma made me write that note.
+It did better than the one I tore up."
+
+"What was that? Did you tear one up?"
+
+"Yes. After all, I don't believe you were as miserable as I was; for I
+wrote once; I did actually write and ask you to come--only I tore up the
+note--and you were consoling yourself with Miss Landor."
+
+"Miss Landor! By the way, has she been asked to come over, for the
+tenth?"
+
+"I don't know. You ought to ask her yourself. Why did not you propose to
+her, Maurice? Or perhaps you did?"
+
+"If I did not, you may thank Bailey. Yes, indeed, Lucia, you contrived
+so well to persuade me you never would care for me that I began to
+imagine it was best I should marry her; that is, supposing she would
+have me."
+
+"And all the while I was doing nothing but think of you, and of how
+wicked and ungrateful and all sorts of bad things I had been in Paris."
+
+"And I--" etc. etc.
+
+The rest of their conversation that morning was much like it was on
+other days, and certainly not worth repeating. Lucia, however, took the
+first opportunity of speaking to Lady Dighton about Miss Landor, and
+seeing that her invitation for the wedding was not neglected.
+
+The tenth of July, Lucia's birthday and her marriage-day, came quickly
+to end these pleasant weeks of courtship. It was glorious weather--never
+bride in our English climate had more sunshine on her--and the whole
+county rung with the report of her wonderful beauty, and of the romantic
+story of these two young people, who had suddenly appeared from the
+unknown regions of Canada, and taken such a prominent and brilliant
+place in the neighbourhood.
+
+But they troubled themselves little just then, either with their own
+marvellous fortunes or with the gossip of their neighbours. Out of the
+quaint old church where generations of Dightons had been married and
+buried, they came together, man and wife; and went away into "that new
+world which is the old," to fulfil, as they best might, the dream to
+which one of them had been so faithful. They went away in a great
+clamour of bells and voices, and left Mrs. Costello alone, to comfort
+herself with the thought that the changes and troubles of the past had
+but served to redeem its errors, and to bring her, at last, the fuller
+and more perfect realization of her heart's desire.
+
+
+  THE END.
+
+  PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND CO.,
+  LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Canadian Heroine, by Mrs. Harry Coghill
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